page two
PIEDMONITOR
January/February, 1975
Editorial
The Other Side of the Coin
You generally hear inflation discussed in
terms of prices, as if sellers were getting rich
and buyers having a tough time.
Generally, the reference is to the govern
ment’s cost of living index, which measures
consumer prices. That has indeed gone up, by
120 per cent since 1947.
But that’s only one side of the coin. Take
a look at another government figure—the
average American paycheck. Since 1947, it has
gone up 238 per cent—twice as much as the
price index.
Can you really blame inflation on pricing?
"c 1974, Nation's Business—the Chamber of Commerce
of the United States. Reprinted from October issue."
Piedmont's entrants in the annual FAA Safety Awards program included, from left, James Hurt, Leonard Bean,
Dallas Brown, K. D. Oakley and F. L. Sfreddo. R. G. Boggs, W. C. Powles, Jim Borden, W. W. WIshon and P. G.
Peacock also submitted suggestions but were unavailable af picture taking time.
— new secretory of tronsportotion
Industry notes
William T. Coleman has been confirmed as
secretary of transportation. A Philadelphia
attorney, Coleman succeeds Claude S. Brinegar
who resigned. Coleman, 53, is a former presi
dent of the NAACP Legal Defense and Educa
tion Fund and has served as a part-time
official or consultant in four administrations
prior to Ford’s.
Author Robert Serling has been commission
ed to write a history of Western Airlines to
commemorate that company’s 50th anniversary.
Western is the oldest airline in the U. S. Ser-
ling’s last book was Maverick, the story of
Robert F. Six of Continental.
The Civil Aeronautics Board approved the
TWA/Pan Am route exchange. The agreement
was approved for two years or until 90 days fol
lowing final Board action on the Transatlantic
Route Case. Pan Am will drop service to Paris,
Lisbon, Madrid ?nd the Azores and on routes
linking London with Los Angeles, Philadelphia
and Chicago. TWA’s service to Frankfort,
Guam, Hong Kong, Bangkok and Honolulu will
be suspended. Pan Am gained new authority
to service Taipei, Bombay and Okinawa, replac
ing TWA. TWA got new authority for Barce
lona, Nice, Casablanca and Vienna in place of
Pan Am.
REA Express, Inc., a major private surface
and air delivery service, has filed a petition for
reorganization under federal bankruptcy laws.
The company said it would continue normal
operations while working out a plan to pay
debts and reorganize.
Coon huntin': a novice's interpretation
Coon huntin’.
Mostly I’d just heard about it, from friends
who’ve done it for years and from a record by
some man from Mississippi. I understand it
is a somewhat universal sort of activity.
I knew you went at night and you took dogs.
I’d heard a lot about how fine and very fine
the dogs are that you take with you.
Well, I’ve always loved dogs and sometimes,
usually in weak moments, I like to try doing
did'erent things.
Recently, some very patient Piedmont coon
hunters let me go with them.
It was one of the most different things I’ve
ever done.
Fo)‘ those of you who know even less about
coon huntin’ than I did, a coon is really a rac
coon. Webster defines them as “small flesh
eating mammals — chiefly gray, with bushy
ringed tails, living largely in trees and active,
especially at night.”
The only thing I would add to that would be
vei-y, very active.
They, the coons and the hunters, cover a
lot of territory. It doesn’t take the coons and
the dogs as long as it does the hunters to cover
what I thought was pretty rough ground.
But back to the beginning. When the hunt
ers have chosen the general area where they’ll
hunt, they hook up the dogs’ trailers — yes,
the dogs have their own travelling kennels —
to whatever vehicle they’re using. Station wa
gon, truck or jeep — the type doesn’t seem to
be too important. (At this point I didn’t know
what was and what wasn’t important and I
was trying to remember everything.) After
a few stops along the way, one for a supply of
liquid refreshments — that was important —
and one to pick up more hunters and more
dogs, also vital, we arrived at a welcoming fire
in an open field somewhere in Stokes County.
Following some preliminary conversation a-
round the fire and final warming of feet it was
time to let the dogs out of their trailers. Like
the hunters, the dogs knew each other well and
were anxious to get on with the coon huntin’.
Now, if I understand how all this is supposed
to be, the dogs find the tracks or traces or
something of the coons and off" they go. The
dogs are supposed to chase the coon up a tree.
That’s called treeing. Then the hunters, who
are supposed to be not too far behind the dogs,
gather round the tree with the coon in it. Dur
ing all this there is a lot of barking. Then some
how the hunters get the coon down from the
tree. There seem to be a number of possible
ways to do this. But I only heard about the
alternatives. Our coon hunt never got to that
stage.
Meanwhile back to the field. The just freed
dogs romped around the hunters for a few
minutes and then the hunters started following
the dogs across the field, over and under several
fences and into a cow pasture.
On through the cow pasture, recently used •—
I was warned to watch where I stepped — the
dogs headed for what the hunters called a
creek.
The coons, the hunters said, often travel
along the creek banks. A creek, again according
to W’ebster, is a stream of water smaller than
a river but larger than a brook.
The Stokes County creeks that I saw were
lots larger and not much smaller.
Crossing and re-crossing and crossing these
creeks again was the hardest part of coon
huntin’ for me.
The hunters barely slowed their pace at the
creek crossings. That is, the first ones to cross.
It took those who were behind me a little long
er, just to get to the tree.
Trees, besides being a place for the coon to
go, were also the way you crossed creeks. Trees
that had conveniently fallen sometimes all the
way and sometimes just part of the way across
the creeks were the hunters’ bridges. They
were almost my undoing.
It seems the Stokes County creeks have
steep banks. In other words, the water is a
long way down. For someone, like me, who gets
too dizzy on the second step of a three-step
step-ladder to get to the top, the creek probably
looked further down than it really was.
The hunters just walked across the tree
bridges. I crawled and clawed and clutched
vines and hoped that the dogs and the coons
would run away from the creek. A long way
away.
All the time we were trying to catch up
with the dogs we had to stop and listen to hear
where they w'ere.
We listened a lot. There was some conversa
tion about which dog was where. Was it Rock
and Brummey who had treed ? Or was it Drum
and Ugly? The hunters could tell from the
barks, where the dogs were and what kind of
barking they were doing. There are many
kinds of barks, running barks, treeing barks,
water barks.
It occurred to me that these special, fine dogs
are very talented. My dogs just bark at stran
gers or when they’re hungry or when they
want attention. But they never tell me where
they are or what they’re doing. Maybe because
I don’t have a Blue Tick or a Red Tick or a
Plott or a Walker. These are the kinds of coon
dogs I met on the hunt.
Occasionally while listening for the dogs
there would be interference. Once it was a
car. Another time some house dogs joined the
chorus. The hunters had special comments for
those unwanted sounds. Their remarks wouldn’t
make very wholesome reading.
The dogs didn’t take too long treeing the
coon. It was us trying to get to the tree that
took a while.
We never did. Get to the tree with the
coon and the dogs, that is.
But far from all that creek crossing having
been to no avail the outing wasn’t over. We
returned to the fire and the host hunter had
delicious steaks cooking over the glowing coals.
As the hunters sat by the fire tales of other
hunts went w'ell with the midnight meal. There
was the time the Piedmont crowd from Wil
mington came up to hunt in this neck of the
woods . . . and the story of the Japanese YS-11
folks who showed up to go coon huntin’ in
coats and ties. They had to learn to chew'
tobacco before they ever got started with the
huntin’.
To Lloyd and 0. V. and Rope and Larry, I
loved it! Creeks and all. And unlike the poet
and the purple cow, I still hope to see a coon.
—Betsy Allen