All Things Considered ran another story yesterday afternoon on Mountaintop Removal Mining and the administration's recent moves against it, including this bit: "There is no practice in this country as environmentally destructive as large-scale surface mining."
Read and listen here. Kudos to NPR for its long-time attention to this issue.
A few helpful links:
Wikipedia
ilovemountains.org
Mountain Justice
Appalachian Voices
stopmountaintopremoval.org
Some great (horrific) photos
In news that is sure to be met with glee for most readers of this blog, the Environmental Protection Agency yesterday announced it was reviewing the permit process for Mountaintop Removal Mining Projects in the Appalachian Region.
Citing its authority under the Clean Water Act, The EPA sent two letters to the Army Corp of Engineers expressing water quality concerns specifically regarding two MTM projects, one in Kentucky, and one in West Virginia.
In short, it's going to get a whole lot harder to start up a new Mountaintop Removal Mining Operation under this administration.
Read more here and here, and the EPA's official release here. Local angle here.
Now & Then winter issue celebrates ‘Fabric of Appalachia’ |
| Tuesday, February 03, 2009 |
JOHNSON CITY – The fall/winter issue of Now & Then: The Appalachian Magazine, themed “Fabric of Appalachia,” looks at fabric in both literal and metaphorical contexts. Published by the Center for Appalachian Studies and Services at East Tennessee State University, the magazine celebrates its 25th anniversary this year. The publication regularly brings together some of the best contemporary Appalachian writers and poets, and the now-available “Fabric” issue is no exception. In a literal sense, fabric is explored from a variety of viewpoints. Famed North Carolina quilter, author and businesswoman Georgia Bonesteel contributes an article entitled “Appalachian Quilting.” She is best known for her nationally broadcast PBS series “Lap Quilting with Georgia Bonesteel.” Nancy Jane Earnest gives an account of the L.C. King Manufacturing Co. of Bristol in “Still Sewing the Fabric of Appalachia,” and author Michael Joslin goes to the source in “A New Face in the Fields: Alpacas in Appalachia,” visiting Apple Hill Farm in Watauga County, N.C. In “From Quilts to Chenille Bedspreads to Carpets,” Lydia Knight explores the rise of the fabric industry in Dalton, Ga. Now & Then Editor Fred Sauceman tells of the Southern Garment Corp. in Greeneville during and after World War II, then adds a recipe for spaghetti sauce with meat to the mix. Other contributors approach fabric metaphorically. Elizabeth Hunter, a freelance writer living in the Bandana Community in Mitchell County, N.C., contributes a community-building piece entitled “The Great Bandana Porch Sit.” And Matthew Schacht focuses on non-profits that work with prisoners and their families in “Freeing Families: Non-Profits in Northeast Tennessee Help Families Fight Cycle of Recidivism.” Marat Moore introduces readers to “Chest-messaging in the Coalfields: A Look Back at the T-Shirts of the Pittston Strike,” author and poet Jeff Mann contributes “Here and Queer,” while Grace Marshall writes about Wise County, Va., native – and cousin to George C. Scott – Gary Slemp in “Appalachia’s Renaissance Man,” and M. Thomas Inge describes a detective’s journey in “Searching for Sut: Solving the Mystery of George Washington Harris’s Gravesite.” The “Fabric of Appalachia” issue is interwoven with short stories by Rosanne Griffeth, Jeff Kerr and Randy Sanders; first-person narratives from Judy Lee Green and Dan Jones; book and music reviews; and poems from five regional poets. The magazine is available in Johnson City at Barnes & Noble Booksellers, The Shamrock on W. Walnut Street, and ETSU’s University Bookstore and Reece Museum. It is also sold at the Historic Jonesborough Visitors Center; the ETSU and General Shale Brick Natural History Museum and Visitor Center at the Gray Fossil Site; Wallace News and Bays Mountain Park, Kingsport; Jacklyn’s Hallmark, Elizabethton; William King Regional Arts Center and Zazzy’s, Abingdon, Va.; and Downtown Books and News, Asheville, N.C. To subscribe online, visit www.etsustore.com, or order by phone by calling (423) 439-7994. For more information, call 439-7865. |
If you're in the Huntsville, AL area you'll want to get yourself on over to Burritt on the Mountain this weekend. A brand new play titled "Appalachian Witches," by Christine Burke Ashwell wraps up its premiere run this weekend. It's the story of three women bound to the Appalachian Mountains, its traditions and music, superstitions and ghosts, history and faith. One family's bloodline speaks in the joyful voices of the mountains with a capella songs, stories and legends presented in a light-hearted storyteller style.
Tanja Miller, left, and Criss Ashwell appear behind Karen Lynn in "Appalachian Witches."
Ms. Ashwell has served as Alabama's state chairperson for community theatre under the Alabama Conference of Theatre, and as Alabama State Representative to the American Association of Community Theatre from 2001-2007.
Dave Tabler caught up with her this week to get a peek at what's in store for audiences:
DAVE TABLER: Why did you write this play?
CHRISTINE BURKE ASHWELL: I suppose I see a lot of culture getting lost in development throughout the Appalachians, or just the progression of time. I certainly think that we have lost a lot of connection with the land, natural remedies and healing arts. I think the stories told throughout the mountains are allegorical as well as historical and funny and sad and so very valuable to the history of a resilient and vastly diverse population who resided in the hills of Appalachia.
So I'm creating a few more stories, reminiscent of theirs and incorporating history and culture to appeal to a modern audience. Moreover, I think my grandfather said it best, "Being poor does not mean living poorly." In fact, as hard as some families had it, there was often more riches to be found in the people themselves than money could ever buy.
DT: What was one of your biggest challenges in pulling this play together?
CBA: The one thing that I hesitated with is the dialect. Even being from the area I have a difficulty understanding some folks in the mountains. We have strived for the voices to be the natural sounds of the mountains in a dialect and accent that are not stereotypical or affected, but can be generally understood by most theatre audiences.
DT: What are some of the influences you drew on for this piece?
CBA: Hmm, a lot of absorption of reading everything from the backs of herbal tea boxes to Lee Smith's books to Pilgrim at Tinker Creek to –my favorite--the Foxfire books. Or listening to the tour guides recite their scripts--yes, there are those of us who listen! In addition, I LOVE picking up those little self published booklets that you'll find in the gift shops of MANY places around the hills or rest stops.
Many times, I don't buy them, I just browse them right there in the store. Somehow, something sticks in the back of my brain until I start on something, talking about history or superstitions. I don't have a photographic memory or anything as grand as that, but those little books have proven quite entertaining, and rather informative of how life was for that family in that community.
One place that I will credit, too is the Hillbilly Savants blog. They had a great article on an earthquake and I did incorporate that into the show with a story of a meeting with the devil and some old demon exorcism goodies from the Bible.
I am ambiguous about time in the play: there are still quakes and such these days (one last year right here in Alabama) on the fault line that made these mountains.
DT: Where in Appalachia is the play set?
CBA: I wrote the play to be ambiguous in the locale. The mountains are so wide and diverse, one hill to the next is different, much less Georgia mountains to Tennessee to Virginia to Pennsylvania. I took a little from each place and created a few of my own "legends". The show is presented in a storyteller style so it's pretty audience friendly with very simple staging and production. I was also a little ambiguous on the language. At times, I cannot understand a word from the folks in the hills--whether from Virginia or Georgia.... Or my own family! But we've tried to remain true to mountain sounds, still remaining understandable by general audiences without being caricatures or stereotypes.
DT: Does the play take a religious moral stance?
CBA: You can't tell the stories of the mountains without including a big dose of God and His affect on the lives of the people of the mountains. Many healers quoted the Bible for their powers to stop blood or draw out fire. Faith and church was a source of comfort, support and hope in difficult times and a joyous gathering place when times were good. Going to meeting was source of news and certainly gave the spread-out lonesome hills a sense of community. I never wrote the show intending to have such a strong dose of religion or any sort of message or morality play. God is simply an everyday presence, and religion a way of life, for these characters. These are joyful souls.
DT: The show's music is entirely a cappella. Why that choice?
CBA: Singing the songs a capella lend the production towards what I consider an honest and true voice that should be uncaring of whether there is perfect pitch or not. The voices are REAL voices that sing hymns next to you in church or sing when working around the house. The religious songs are reminiscent of songs you've heard in church.
Camp meetings were a constant gathering place in the hills and songs traveled as much as the preachers. The first song is a mountain story song, passing the news of a local event. The next is a lullaby, sung to comfort a boy and pray for healing. The song that ends the first act is a toe-tapping hymn to encourage faith and hope.
The second act contains another spiritual calling sinners to God before it's too late. Then there's a mountain story-song of Ma Mary and the tragedy that befell her and her children. The play ends with the chorus of a traditional hymn that reminds Kate of her grandmother.
"Appalachian Witches" runs January 30 and 31 at 7:30 p.m. Admission is $15 per person and groups of 12 and more are $12 each. Tickets are available at 536-2882 or www.burrittonthemountain.com. At the Old Country Church at Burritt.
Appy Love might become a source of ideas to get you out of your house and into Appalachia. I'd like to spend some time visiting, researching, and writing about the hills, hollers and holes-in-the-wall that have been surrounding me all this time, but that I've occasionally eschewed in favor of big cities (Atlanta and London) or big box retailers (Target and Old Navy). As they say, with age comes wisdom. Or at least the determination not to be a complete jackass. Since I live in Johnson City, posts will start here and radiate as far outward as gas prices will allow. Here goes nothing.Keep reading.
Clay Owen
The 75th anniversary of the opening of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is soon approaching. The most-visited park in the entire National Park system, the GSMNP is celebrating in the coming year with a series of events featuring Dolly Parton as the park's official Ambassador.
Scott Barker has an excellent piece in today's Knoxville News Sentinel surveying many aspects of the Park.
The Museum of Appalachia's Tennessee Fall Homecoming is one of the finest and most-important events each year in all of Appalachia. We spent a couple of days at the museum in Clinton, TN this weekend.
David Baker of Sevierville, TN mans his family's apple press and sells mountain taffy.
Okra dries in the October sun.
Ronda Vincent and the Rage entertains thousands at the Museum's main stage. This year's homecoming featured five stages of continuously-running music.
Above are two pieces featured in the museum's massive Display Barn. The museum's collection is absolutely huge, as well as incredibly varied. Items range from the former property of some of the most prominent figures in Appalachia's history, to simple items upon which the people of the region relied on that were crucial to their survival.
The WDVX camper, the station's original studio.
Museum founder John Rice Irwin chats with old-time fiddler Charlie Acuff (cousin to the late Roy Acuff, King of Country music).
Many of the museum's most-impressive items are on display in the Appalachian Hall of Fame. John Rice Irwin's personal touch is evident throughout the grounds of the museum, but especially in this building. Most of the placards are personally inscribed by Mr. Irwin, and his first-person accounting of the acquisition of many of the items are as rich as the artifacts themselves.So the western part of middle Tennessee would be considered only barely on the fringes of Appalachia by any definition, however I thought I'd share these photos of home that I took last time I made it down. Anyway, isn't Appalachia more a state of mind than an actual geographic boundary? Okay, maybe it is an actual geographic boundary, but that's beside the point.
The rest of my photographs can be found on my PicasaWeb site.
While driving to church yesterday morning, I spotted my first sign that fall was here. Lying in the middle of the road was an old familiar sight. Dozens of little orange berries, some smashed, some round and waiting to be run over. When I was a kid growing up here in East, TN, persimmons brought both pleasure and aggravation to my life.
According to Wikipedia, the American Persimmon tree grows mainly in the Southeastern United States. Its ranges from New England to Florida, and west to Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas. The tree grows wild but has been cultivated for its fruit and wood since prehistoric times by Native Americans.
I know that persimmon trees can be found in 
nearly every yard here in Knox County. In my own yard, I have only male persimmon trees, which do not bear any fruit. My parents, however, have female persimmon trees in their yard. My, the memories those things hold for me. From my earliest recollections, folks have been tricking younger kids into sampling green persimmons. I can remember my cousin Danny saying; “Oh, Tug, these persimmons are delicious, you’ve got to try one!” Then he held one up to his mouth and pretended to take a bite and acted like it was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. Of course I, not wanting to look stupid in front of my hero cousin, took a big bite. If you have never bitten into a green persimmon before, you don’t know what you are missing. Or rather I should say you don’t want to know what you are missing! It takes no more than one bite into one to turn your mouth completely inside out. It has the similar 
effect of biting into a lemon, only worse! The first thing you want to do after trying one is to stick your tongue out and start slapping it. That is hard to do because your lips are now drawn into a frozen pucker, making this nearly impossible.
I can’t even tell you the number of folks that I played the above trick on. I know I did it to my younger sister, brother, and cousin Brad. Of course I also tricked my younger brother into sampling worms (which I wrote about in THIS post), bugs, and dandelions, but I’ll save those stories for another day. Ah the pleasures of being an older brother…
Persimmons brought a mixture of joy and misery into my life. Once the fruit gets ripe; it falls off of 
the tree. Naturally, this leads to the ground below being covered with plump, juicy, and sticky orange balls. I don’t know if you have ever slipped down into a slimy pile of persimmons, but let me tell you that is one nasty mess! Also much like “manure wars” we had persimmon wars. The green ones hurt, but the ripe orange ones would explode on your body and make a gross mess on your clothes, or in the worst case…your hair. I can still see my sisters and me running barefooted through the yard, slipping in persimmons, slinging them at each other, falling down and getting leaves and dirt matted into our clothes. My granny Spencer also had numerous persimmon trees in her yard and every time we went to her house we would get into them. Usually we would have a war with Becky, Paula, and Jeff Lawson, all whom lived next door to granny. The only thing separating us was a white wooden fence and a driveway. We would sling those persimmons with all of our might at each other, like it was a life or death situation. Oh what fun!
Some people eat persimmons and make things like pies and pudding out of them. I’ve eaten a few ripe ones and they are pretty good but the consistency of the fruit kind of turns me off. They are mushy and slimy, two textures that really don’t agree with my palate.
Some religious signs from a recent highly bumpercropulous swing through southeastern West Virginia.
There was a great, raucous Holiness service going on in this church, and the doors were open, so I parked and listened. Some folks came out of the church and invited in. I wish I could have joined them, but I had a dog in the car with me and couldn't leave him.
On the same church:
Near that church:
Also in McDowell County:
Close-ups of the Jesus windows. The Roman soldier drawing blows me away--what a peculiar choice.
Fayette County:
Close-up:
In Kincaid, a combination post office-praise center.
Hard to read, but the little blue sign says "Christians helping others."
Hico:
From the Field Guide to What's Good.
Exactly what part of "Country Music Television" did you not understand?
Everyone here in Cocke County, TN has their knickers in a twist about Outsiders Inn, CMT's new reality(which they define loosely as staged and scripted scenes with ad libs and non-actors) spin-off of Gone Country. There has been outrage over how the series portrayed our local people, or rather how it didn't. All of the locals appearing in the series were actors drawn from the pool of talent that populates Pigeon Forge's stage shows--Central Casting for Southern-Stereotypes-R-Us. Which is fine for Pigeon Forge and Dollywood, but misleading when presenting the program as a "reality" show. It's not. It's just bad, bad retroscripting. The trick with retroscripting is that you actually need actors--good ones--to pull it off. Outsider's Inn is sadly lacking in that department and many others.
Everyone in town was excited this June while it was in principal photography out at Christopher Place. But if you've watched the programming on CMT, it shouldn't have been a surprise that the channel that brings us My Big Redneck Wedding, makes its bread and butter from exploiting Southern stereotypes and mocking its fan base should do anything different with Cocke County.
My sister tells this story about how embarrassed she would be when her dates came to pick her up at our grandparent's house. Mutt and Papa loved Hee-Haw. They were also quite deaf so they kept the volume turned up on the TV really loud. Outsiders Inn is going for that Hee Haw vibe. The problem is that it doesn't have the astounding brilliance of the Grand Ole Opry talent behind it. There really isn't any talent to speak of. Hemorrhoids just aren't that funny--particularly on Carnie Wilson.
In short, the show is insulting not just to Cocke Countians, but to Appalachian people, Tennesseans and to Southerners in general. It's also insulting because of the amateurish production values. It's the sort of show that is useless for anyone's resume--the sort of show you grab the money then deny like hell you worked on it. It's a truckstop prostitute of a TV program and no one is going to want to admit they had anything to do with it. But if you insist on viewing the Credit Roll of Shame--it can be found on IMDb.
To make matters worse, Cocke County Mayor, Iliff McMahan Jr., willingly cast in the role of hick mayor, was reported by the National Enquirer to have brought quarts of moonshine as gifts to the cast members. I would have to consume way too much untaxed liquor to blab to the Enquirer. No one, thus far, has admitted to being the Enquirer's source.
Cocke County needs to dust themselves off from this bad experience. It's okay to be outraged but realize the insult was far broader than just Cocke County. CMT needs to stick with the music--or at least revamp its sixty years out-of-date image of what country music entertainment and its fans look like. Last I checked, overalls and checked shirts were not involved.
Back when I was working in the film industry, we had this thing we'd say when a set-up was going overlong or we were losing light.
Let's shoot this puppy before it turns into a dog.
Outsiders Inn was barking in pre-production--why didn't anyone hear it?
More Reviews and Articles:
KnoxNews Review
Johnson: 'Outsiders Inn' out of bounds in Appalachia
Enquirer's mayor and moonshine article attracts attention
From The Smokey Mountain Breakdown
Swimming under the Cascades of Giles County, Virginia provides instant relief from the two mile hike in the summer heat.
Photo by Hazel Crabtree, Saltville, VA 1928
Photo by Hazel Crabtree, 1929"From some long-forgotten source, I heard that June beetles made a sweet sound while flying around. I loved music, and the method to acquire this living music box was to fasten a long thread to one of the bug's hind legs.
"Now, June beetles are about half an inch across and three quarters of an inch long. The ones in the South are dark green on the back side and have an armor-like covering over their undersides. They feed on fennel and are harmless.
"One day, I chased down a June beetle and brought it in. It was hard to hold. That bug clawed me with its sharp toes and rooted with its sharp nose. But I held on for dear life and persuaded Mother to tie a thread on its hind leg. She wasn't too anxious to oblige me, but finally the job was accomplished and I took my musical bug outside to test it out.
"The ground around the house was level, so I chose a spot where I could turn my bug loose. It gladly took off, and I ran after it, holding on tight to the thread. The bug made a pleasing sound that was music to my ears. The sound that June beetle made—along with the Jew's harp and harmonica—was the one source of music my young ears had ever heard.
"Soon the bug grew tired and sat down. I realized the thread might hamper its movements, so I waited while it rested. Still anxious to hear more music, I urged it to fly. As quick as lightening, the bug took off with me pounding along behind it. I was thoroughly enjoying the performance until the thread slipped off. With mixed emotions, I watched my music box disappear in the distance.
"I felt bad over my loss and set about repairing it. I found another June beetle, but somehow I didn't like this one quite as well as the first one. Just the same, I hurried into the house to have Mother tie a thread on its leg. This time Mother openly expressed her dislike for such activities. Nevertheless, with strong urging on my part, she tied the thread once again. I took the new June beetle outside and let it fly as I had the old one, but the knot in the thread was too loose and slipped off. This bug also flew away, heading due north. It didn’t slacken its speed for even a moment."
From a Parks family history compiled by Lillian "Lilly Ann" Parks Adams (1880-?), at Capitola, CA, 1949-50, when she was 70 years old. She was born in Wayne County, WV, which borders Kentucky and Ohio. The story is to the best of her knowledge as a four-year-old child, and from family retellings.
source: http://ftp.wi.net/~census/lesson43.html
Original blogged at Appalachian History
I first heard Railroad Earth a few years back, soon after the release of the band’s quasi-demo, The Black Bear Sessions. Having no clue what to expect, I popped the disc in my car’s CD player. It scarcely left that spot for an entire summer.
When the Earl Brothers released their first album in 2004, the superbly-titled Whiskey, Women and Death, it was a shot of antique-sounding bluegrass in decidedly dark tones, as the recording’s name might suggest. Included on that debut disc were perhaps two of the finest original drinking songs ever recorded in the genre (“Been Sittin’ Here Drinkin” and “Bender”), as well as one of the finest and freshest takes on “Cluck Ol Hen” you’re likely to find anywhere.
Then in 2006 the band’s follow-up, Troubles To Blame, landed to a flurry of critical acclaim. The Earl Brothers had arrived and they played uncompromisingly traditional mountain music with attention-grabbing gothic undertones.
After just two offerings, a new disc from the Earl Brothers amounts to an event for a heap of bluegrass fans all over the country. In 2008, the band kept to its schedule of releasing a disc every two years with Moonshine. In it the
At first listen, The Earl Brothers are easy to place. It’s gritty, gloomy, hillbilly music. This is a refreshingly simple bluegrass band that comes at the listener with no pretensions, just an honest take on life played with honest-to-God mountain music. In keeping with that theme, chief songwriter Robert Earl Davis seems uninterested in complex symbolism and extended metaphor. His formula is a simple one: See a thing, sing the thing, the thing’s the song. Consider these lines from Moonshine’s ninth track, “By the Side of the Road,” taken from the liner notes.
Billy was found by the side of the road
He wasn’t looking to good
Legs all bent from a bad accident
No one to call him there own
All of which amounts to pretty standard fare for an Earl Brothers album. Of course, standard fare from the Earl Brothers being as good as it is, this disc is a keeper for anyone that likes their bluegrass straight-up, with a twist of the wicked.
The latest episode of Podcast Appalachia is now available! It's a little known fact that Appalachians, both in the North and the South, played a major role in the early movement to abolish slavery. In this episode I look at this history and examine the role Appalachians played in expanding human liberty. You can listen here or view a transcript here.
A few pictures from a Memorial Day trek into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
The rest of the set will be up at the Our Appalachia photo group at Flickr.
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Robin M. Absher, Raven VirginiaOn May 18, 2008 the University of Appalachia College of Pharmacy awarded its first degree to Robin M. Absher of Raven, Virginia. Ms. Absher received her doctorate of pharmacy degree from Frank M. Kilgore, Chairman of the University's Board of Trustees, and Dr. Eleanor Sue Cantrell, President of the University and Dean of the College of Pharmacy. Ms. Absher joined 66 of her classmates who were also awarded degrees during the momentous ceremony. Every member of the inaugural class had received at least one offer of employment at the time of graduation, and Mr. Kilgore estimates that over 80% of the graduating class will accept positions working in medically underserved communuties in Central Appalachia. Most graduating class members have already accepted employment offers, or will further their training in residency programs.
According to Mr. Kilgore, who was instrumental in the founding of the University of Appalachia, the graduation ceremony was the fulfillment of a dream and was a "watershed event that will be of be of huge importance to generations to come as the history of our school is written". Mr. Kilgore also expressed thanks to others who had worked toward the dream's fulfillment: associate deans Dr. Susan Mayhew, Dr. Chuck Bresse, and Whitney Caudill; and Dean of Institutional Development Terry Kilgore. These individuals deserved special thanks, according to Chaiman (Frank) Kilgore, due to their "sustained and skillful efforts toward program development, accreditation, recruitment, teaching, event organizing and fundraising" for the new school.
The University of Appalachia School of Pharmacy is located in Oakwood, Virginia. If you would like to learn more, visit the School's website here.
Photo by Eric McCarty, courtesy of the University of Appalachia
From 1951 to 1965 Dr. Thomas Jugarthy Hicks began to quietly offer babies for adoption from his Hicks Community Clinic in McCaysville, GA. Quietly, because the clinic he’d been running since the mid-1940s was not a licensed adoption agency. Hicks cared for the mundane health issues of local farmers and townspeople in the front of the clinic, while performing abortions, which were illegal during that period, in the back rooms.
Law or no law, he advertised his abortion services on phone booths, bus stations and bridges. Women came by bus, car and train to pay $100 to "fix their problem." A small airstrip was built in nearby Ducktown so the prominent could fly their daughters in from Atlanta and Chattanooga for an abortion.
His black market baby-selling ring, which may have ‘moved’ as many as 200 babies with no questions asked, relied on young, poor women from North Georgia and Eastern Tennessee. They’d come to him for an abortion, and he persuaded some to carry the babies to full term. The women would reside in the clinic for a few months, or the good doctor would provide a room for them at his farm, or in the New York Hotel in adjoing Copperhill, TN, or in his apartments in the telephone company building.
Hicks knew he could count on word of mouth to bring in the baby buyers. The Fannin County Courthouse records list 49 babies, for example, who went to Summit County in Ohio. All the fathers who bought them worked in the Akron tire companies, except for a Cuyahoga Falls doctor who bought two babies. All the sales were arranged by a West Akron Goodrich employee who bought four babies for herself. All of them paid up to $1,000 for a baby no one could trace back to its mother.
Hicks made sure the birth certificates listed the people adopting as birth parents. The doctor kept no known records of the birth mothers, who discreetly vanished.
Thomas Hicks was no stranger to shady dealings. After getting his medical degree from Emory University in Atlanta in 1917, he moved to Copperhill, TN, but lost his medical license and served time in federal prison for selling narcotic pain killers to a veteran working undercover for the FBI.
While incarcerated, he studied a lung disease that kept copper miners from living past the age of 40.
Once out, he was hired by the Tennessee Copper Co. to treat miners. The only problem was, he filed more claims than there were miners with the disease.
After he was fired from that job, he opened up the Hicks Community Clinic in McCaysville.
Once a baby was available, Hicks wasted neither time nor words with his prospective buyers. "You have 24 hours to come or I call the next person on the list," he's reported to have said to more than one client.
Hicks warned his baby buyers not to be picky. If you told Hicks you only wanted a boy or you wanted a girl, you could forget about getting a baby.
It may never be known how many illegal adoptions were conducted by Dr. Hicks, who was stripped of his medical license in 1964, but never jailed. He was, after all, a member of the Copperhill Kiwanis and the Adams Bible Class of the First Baptist Church (to which he donated a Wurlitzer organ). He was known to give free medicine to the very poorest in town. He made house calls to those who couldn't otherwise get to his clinic.
Dr. Thomas Hicks' abortion clinic was an open secret tolerated by a town that appreciated the bulk of his medical contributions. "He didn't perform any services that anyone didn't request,'' noted local resident Marlene Matham Hardiman, who once rented an apartment from Hicks.
The court papers disbarring him made no mention of the black-market babies. The abortion charges against him were dropped, and he continued practicing for a time thereafter.
Thomas Hicks died of leukemia in 1972 at age 83. His lawyer, nurses, wife and son are dead. His only living relative, a daughter, lives in seclusion in North Carolina.
sources:www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20124848,00.html
freepages.misc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~msroots/BMA/HICKS4.htm
query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=950CE1DE103EF930A1575BC0A961958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=1
immigrantships.net/adoption/hicksbabies.html
chronicle.augusta.com/stories/012098/met_LG0411-9.001.shtml
Originally blogged at Appalachian History
