PAGE 2 — THE COUGAR CRY, OCTOBER 30, 1978
Reddies River
Project
RambUn’ With Richard
There is, for a little while,
left in this county a place 1
have learned to love. I say “a
little while” because it is doom
ed to go the way most wild and
untouched areas are going.
They are falling to the bulldoz
er of progress. Tiie ever-
stretching fingers of man in his
quest to destroy the last foot
hold of nature. I am saddened
at the thought because this
beautiful wild river where
iTOUt still survive in its native
state will soon be blocked by
one of man’s most ingenious
devices: an earthen dam.
I have heard it said if left
alone the U. S. Army Corps of
Engineers will soon have every
branch, creek, and river
dammed by the year 2000. This
I do not dispute, for already
they in the name of flood con
trol and progress have in the
last 3 years been by themselves
the foremost destructive force
gathered in history to combat
nature.
The Reddies River project is
probably one of the most ab
surd yet. The river itself is
little more than 15 miles long,
and the coimtry it runs thru
is mostly wild, unused except
in the upper stretches where
fertile bottoms exist.
The river starts on the south
side of the Parkway off old 16
highway and in its headwaters
some of the most beautiful
falls in the county exist. They
harbor a few wild native trout
and stocked trout.
The river at its widest is no
more than 60 feet, and it ends
its journey at the Wilkesboro-
North Wilkeaboro bridge. It
already has « dam across it
about a mile before its junction
with the Yadkin. This dam is
the water reservoir for the city
of North Wilkesboro.
The most harmful of the ef
fects of this proposed dam is
obvious:
1. The increase in water leve>l
will raise the water tempera
ture; therefore, the ability of
the trout population to survive
is decreased.
2. The oxygen content of the
water will also be decreased.
3. Some of the most beauti
ful part of the county will be
flooded.
4. It will be just another pool
of water that will in enough
tiirte become another stinking
silt pond.
The dam across the Yadkin
above Wilkesboro already has
started to decay and smell like
a cesspooL
I hope the people of this
county can see the conse
quences of this action and reg
ister their feelings of opposi
tion. I do not like to think
that this will go unnoticed. This
is.one thing I sincerely believe
is a worthwhile project. There
fore, I ask all those who are
interested just to drive up old
Highway 16 some evening and
see for themselves this beauti
ful area and let your feelings
be known to the proper author
ities.
—'Richard Harrold
Wilkes County Folklore
Bj Cbarlefl OrtMrae
THE HAUNTED CHIMNEY
One jof my favorite pastimes
as a child was sitting around
on a dark night listening to my
grandmother recount legends of
her younger days. When bed^
time came, 1 would tiptoe into
my bedroom, jump into bed^
pull the covers over my head
and spend a night wrapp^ in a
world of ghosts, witches, and
broken-iiearted lovers. In this
story, and in the series which
will follow, I would like to
share with you some of the
more colorful legends of the
land of Wilkes told to me as a
child.
In a lonely hollow, near the
Smithy’s Creek area of W. Kerr
Scott reservoir, stand the ruins
of an old stone chimney, the
last remnants of an almost for
gotten homestead. No one re
members the names of the
couple who lived there, but
most of the older people in that
area recall their tragic end.
One night the couple had a
terrible argument. The hus
band, in a violent rage, began
to beat his wife. The next
morning, neighbors found her
broken, lifeless body lying on
the floor at the foot of the bed.
The husband disappeared and
was never brought to trial to
pay for his brutal crime.
The house fell into disrepair
and after several years totally
collapsed, leaving only the
crumbling chinmey as a bleak
reminder of the sad couple who
had lived there.
It was not long until strange
occurrences were reported near
the chimney. Local residents
passing by the chimney at night
suddenly found themselves sur
rounded by a litteral rain of
rocks.
In an eyewitness account, a
local lady tells about passing
the chimney one night with her
elder son and daughter. Know
ing full well what would occur
as soon as they approached the
chimney, the lady picked up
her daughter, and with the son
leading made a dash for safety.
Suddenly rocks began to fall all
around them. Then, as sudden
ly as it har started, the barrage
of rocks stopped. This happen
ed so often that folks were no
longer startled by the extraor
dinary rain of rocks.
As new roads were built, the
old logging road by the chim
ney fell into disuse and was
covered by creeping under
brush. Today, no footsteps dis
turb the chimney’s domain, nor
has anyone ever discovered its
secret.
The Chicken Trade or How To
Trade a Bike For a Crow
By Bidiard Hairold
Blany years ago a trade tool:
place that shall go down in his
tory as the Great Chicken
Trade, Crow optional. It all
started when my Uncle Bank
gave my cousin Billy a new 2G-
inch, balloon-tired Schwinn
bike with battery > operated
luxm. This see ms like any or
dinary occurrence except for
one minor detail: Bill did not
want it But, as you can guess,
I did. Here is where the trade
started.
In those days a bike was the
status symbol for any 6-year
old, and a dtiicken was a real
honest-to-goodness chicken, not
one of your modem white Leg
horns, but a genuine Blxode
Island Bed.
When it became apparent
that Billy did not want the bike,
I began my systematic cam
paign to wheedle my dad into
trying to trade for the bike. It
was no easy matter. First of
all, Dad is not easy to con.
Secondly, he couldn’t feature a
€-year old riding a 26-inch bdke.
My first tactic was to be real
smart, do all my chores, mind
and behave. It should have
worked, but it didn’t. Next,
the old hold-your-breath trick
in a rage till you turn blue.
Right? Wrong, he always threw
water on me.
Then the last alternative —>
mama, right? Right. Now if
anyone could do it mama
could. Her approach was di
rect. She would walk up to
Pap and say, “Get that scream
ing kid that bike, or I’m going
to kill him.” It worked!
The dickering started some
thing like this. “How much are
you wanting for that old bike,
Bank,” Pap asked.
“Old nothing. I just bought
it last week,” Bank replied.
“Well, whatever. I’ll give you
$50 for it, seeing as how BiUy
there don’t want it, and Richard
is driving us craiy wanting
one.”
‘'Lord no, 1 couldn’t possibly
take that Tell you whait 1 will
do though. Gimmie $50 ' and
that old 12-gauge shotgun coid
we can deal,” Bank replied.'
“No, reckon I can’t do that,”
responded Dad. WeU people,
right then my old tidcer almost
did a Fred Sanford. You know
“the big one” was taking place.
Then, of aU things in the
world to bring my world back
into focus appeared. Ah, chick
en! Remember? A chicken.
Bank took one look at that
old Rhode Island Red, closed
one eye, looked up at Pap and
said “How many them thar
chidkens you got, Lonnie?”
“Oh! I don’t know, ’bout 73
I guess,” he eased out ’
“Well, now tell you what I’ll
do. I’ll take them chickens for
that bicycle.”
“I don’t know ’bout that I’ll
have to ask Dessie ’bout it,”
Dad quipped.
“She’ll do it! She’U do it!”
I screamed.
“Blap!” a heavy hand answer
ed my screams.
Just about that time my
savior arrived. I ran to her
skirt, cried a lot begged a lot,
and her nerves completely col
lapsed.
Needless to say, that night
after dark, 73 real honest-to-
goodness Rhode Island Red
chickens and one 26-inch bal
loon-tired Schwinn bike with
battery operated horn had new
owners.
Now I suppose you want to
know how the bike-crow trade
came about Well, you are go
ing to have to wait till the next
issue for that goody.
I
Mrs. Katherine Case surveys her handiwork created in Carpentry
Class.
Y. B.s Done It Again
By Judy Hollers
Y. B. is one man any lady
would love to have aroxmd the
house! He knows how to build
anything and everything. Some
women aren’t as fortunate as
Mrs, Y. B. Johnson, so they are
coming to Y. B.’s Tuesday-
Thursday night carpentry class
to become their own “handy-
women.”
There are 4 ladies and 10
men in the carpentry class. All
they have to do is furnish their
materials, and they can make
whatever they wish. Our own
Mr. and Mrs. Jim Payne are
one of the couples in the class.
Y. B. reports that Mr. Payne is
doing a fine job helping Mrs.
Payne construct 5 miniature
dry sinks. The other couple is
Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Brinegar.
Mrs, Brinegar has built a bath
room cabinet and a sewing cen
ter, Another member of the
class is Mrs, Katherine Case
who is building a paint, storage,
and work center in the form
of shelves and a workbench.
She has also put formica on a
cabinet top. Mrs, Moxley is do^
ing some remodeling in one of
her homes. She has brought
material and dressed it, cased
some doors and windows, and
built a section of base and wall
cabinets in a kitchen. The men
are building cabinets, what
nots, birdhouses, portable dog
houses (wonder why?), storage
pelves, and dressing mantles
and chestnut lumber. Y. B.
Where Its
At Dept.
The Daytime Place to Be
Hey gang! Word’s out
Need a place you can escape
to the books for a bit? Just
head on up the red carpeted
stairway in the Commons, into
the library.
Twenty-five thousand vol
umes composed by men and
women who have spent life
times searching, researching
your own interest area from as
local as the Yadkin River to the
Parthenon or Rome’s Coliseum,
Oriental. Yep — check the
card catalog of Asian studies.
Hot Rod buff, you say? Check
tlhe 621’s. We’ve got everything
from engine-swaps to saving
yourself a bundle on repairing
that balky automatic transmis
sion, We could rattle on for a
few dozen more pages about
the library’s holdings, but suf
fice it to say that even in the
PERIODICAiLS (mags to you)
we’ve got areas from new inter
est developments in electronics
to nudism. (Ask at the main
desk for this month’s issue of
PLAYBOY).
(Hey, for you folk with fam
ilies, we have a children’s book
section too!)
So, maybe you like paper
backs. Fine. We have a paper
back exchange rack in the IM.
(That’s below the library direct
ly across the entrance from the
teaching auditorium.)
Cinema nut? In addition to
a 50 plus title college-owned
collection, we have at least 3
or more special interest flicks
per week that instructors have
ordered for classes. If you
missed it in class, see it in the
IM. Just ask the prof.
Want to learn a foreign lan
guage? Spare time, catch-as-
catch-can? Come on down. We
have tapes, Language Master
cards, programmed texts to
help you learn French, Span
ish, Danish, or even English as
a second language.
Brush up on high-school
work is easy with the Cowles
books, programmed texts, math
tapes, chemistry and biology
kits, even slide rules. Ask Bar
bara Stone about the Video
Tape Series “Your Future Is
Now” in reading improvement
skills.
Music while you study? We
have general interest discs from
Haydn to hard rock. And all
equipment you need is provided
in convenient study booths so
no one gets in your way.
Unsure what you need or
can’t find it? We have literally
the swingingest staff in the col
lege to give you a hand when
you need it. No “old biddies”
either!
Our director, technicians, and
secretaries and librarians are
young, with-it, people who ful
ly un-erstand the plight of the
student, and have an earnest
desire to help. By the way,
three of our people, Audrey,
Bonnie, and Peggy, are new
this year, added to our task
force to be sure you get the
help you need when you need
it. By the way, two of our task
force are recording artists,
Janet and Kay. Ask them
about their latest release.
So, whether it’s a clean, well-
lighted study area, or just a
place to relax and thrash out
a crossword puzzle, Learning
Resources has it. It’s the day
time place to be.
—Gary McNeil
says they’re all running him
ragged clamoring for his atten
tion for their individual proj
ects.
Wow! If Y. B. can motivate
carpentry creativepess in wom
en as well as men, he must
have magic up his sleeve.
What’s next, Y. B.?