Interview No. 1(Doug McCutcheon) My first interview for the foundation’s Compendium of Appalachian Traditions and Folk Tales was on the outskirts of a small town (the name of which I agreed not to mention at the request of the inhabitants) with a long time resident that the townspeople referred to as the Old Woman, in an area they referred to as “Over Yonder”. According to the locals the Old Woman had quite a reputation as a storyteller. With trepidation, I carefully navigated my six-year-old Ford pickup down an ancient dirt road apparently intended for horse traffic rather than automobiles. I arrived at her place in the evening. Once beautiful, now wrinkled and withered, she greeted me in a friendly manner from her rocking chair on the porch of the ramshackle cabin and invited me up to “sit a spell an’ have a sip if ya got a mind to,” holding up a jar of a liquid which I immediately (and correctly)assumed was homemade liquor.

The twilight cast a uniquely somber glow across the landscape, as it can only in the Alleghenies in the summer. She offered me the jar, which I politely declined. As I explained to her that I was collecting folk tales and legends, she took a sip of moonshine and furrowed her brow in thought for a few moments. Between puffs of her corncob pipe, the Old Woman (that was what the locals called her; nobody remembered her real name anymore) began her story. "Tired of tellin’ them old folk tales; lemme tell you ‘bout Delbert Sanders. Lived ‘round here bout fifty years ago or so until he an’ his family moved to Charleston. He came from good, upright, God-fearin’ Christian folk that’d been livin' round these parts for a cuppla hunnert years, give or take."

She rocked back and forth as we sat on the rickety porch. After another few puffs on her pipe she continued. "Delbert started out as a fine upstandin’ example of a man, always gwine to church on Sunday ‘n’ singin' in the choir an’ such, tithin’ an’prayin’ to the Lord. He was all but engaged to Belinda Lou Cummins, a right proper young thing that worked at the liberry in town an’ taught Sunday school.That is, until DeeDee Jones blew back into town from some big city up north,puttin’ on them citified airs an’ wiggling that hot little behind o’ hers in ol’ Delbert’s face. One sniff'a that musky sweat an’ he was off to the races like a dog slobberin’ after them raw beefsteaks down at Big Luke’s butcher shop in town. Married her straightaway he did, an’ she popped out a cuppla cubs right quick, one after another, all the time spendin’ Delbert’s hard-earned money on whatever she had a hankerin’ for, an’ makin’ him like it. Tell you what, Jezebel herself coulda learned a thing or two from that one."

Another puff on the ancient pipe, another sip of moonshine. "Three more kids, then all of a sudden Delbert was out of a job when the fertilizer plant he worked at burned down. He took up drinkin' an’ honky-tonkin', sometimes stayin’ away for two, three days at a time. Him an’ DeeDee would have a knockdown drag-out fight when he finally got home, an’ I think there was a little more’n harsh words now an’ then, especially when Deedee showed up in town wearin’ sunglasses on dark ‘n’ cloudy days. Sunglasses couldn’t hide them bruises, though; not entirely.DeeDee used to say that she walked into a door or fell partway down the stairs, but nobody believed her.”

“All that churchgoin’ an’ Bible-thumpin’ didn't help Delbert a whole lot to see the error of his ways until the elders of the church laid hands on him an’ delivered him from the demons that plagued him. Leastwise, that's what they say happened. I reckon he just got plain skeered from seein' them snakes an’ other vile critters when he drank. Besides, DeeDee's brother held a gun to his head an’ tole him that if she ever had so much as a little itty-bitty bruise again, ol’ Delbert would finally get to meet the late great Hank Williams in person instead o’ just listenin' to his records like he was always doin’. I think that mighta helped him to come to Jesus once more; he swore off the liquor that day, an’ I don’t think he ever touched it again, leastwise not while him an’ DeeDee was still 'round here. Wasn’t long before him an’ DeeDee packed up their spawn an’ all they owned, which wasn’t much by now, in their ol’ station wagon an’ left town; they said they was goin’ to Charleston ‘cuz Delbert was gonna try to find hisself some work there. Nobody missed him an’ DeeDee, that’s for sure. Truth is, everybody was glad they was finally gone”.

“Delbert found hisself a pretty good job in the steel mill in Charleston, but that didn’t last long. One day he got careless an’ got his own li’l taste o’ hellfire when he fell thirty feet down from one o’ them catwalks into a vat o’ molten steel. They said you could hear him screamin’ a block away, but he wasn’t screamin’ for long. Not much o’ him left for buryin’; all they pulled out was bones. Closed casket, it was.”

“DeeDee carried on the best she could, tryin’ to take care o’ the kids an’ all, workin’ doubles at the paper mill. She started feelin’ poorly ‘round summer o’ that year, an’ when she finally went to the doctor an’ they checked her out, they found the cancer spread all the way through; nothin’ they could do but give her somethin’ for the pain. It ate up her insides an’ then some; wasted her away to almost nothin’. She hung on ‘til winter, an’ finally gave it up on Christmas Day.Wasn’t but 50 pounds when she died; so pitiful-lookin’ that the family decided against a showin’ an’ had her cremated. They scattered her ashes on Mill Creek Pond where she used to play when she was a little girl; never did get around to havin’ a memorial service for the poor thing. Dunno what happened to the kids; foster homes, mebbe. Word was that nobody in the family wanted ‘em.”

"Belinda Lou? Died of a broken heart, they say. Of course, ain't no broken heart gonna put a hole that size in yer head, but it might give ya the gumption to put the barrel of a pistol in yer mouth ‘n’ do the job yerself. An’ a fine job of it she did; took ‘em over a week to clean up, her blood an’ brains an’ all bein’ splattered all over the new flowered wallpaper the landlord had just put up a few days earlier. Sure ruined them pretty white teeth she was so proud of, an’ I won’t even mention how she messed the bed, or the smell o’ death in that li’l ol’ room that made young Deputy Albright lose his breakfast right there on that nice hardwood floor. Yessiree Bob, quite a job to clean that one up. Took ‘em a while to find a body wantin’ to rent that room, it did. Finally rented it to an ol’ guy just retired from the railroad who either didn’t know or didn’t care ‘bout the history of the room, so long as the rent was cheap.”

“But anyways, Belinda Lou, she didn’t have no family to speak of, seein’ as her daddy had died years before an’ her momma got sent off to the booby hatch a short time after, so I kinda gave myself the job o’ keepin’ her grave tidy. Started doin’ it ‘cause she seemed so lonely up on that ol’ hill with nobody comin’ to visit her, but these days it gives me sump’n to do, a reason to keep puttin’ one foot in front o’the other. Havin’ a purpose in life keeps me from layin’ these ol’ bones down an’ askin’ the good Lord to take me on home. I’m plannin’ on headin’ out to the ol’ buryin’ ground tomorra mornin’ after prayer service; would ya wanna come along an’ give an ol’ lady a helpin’ hand? The arthritey in these ol’ claws makes it right hard to pull them stubborn ol’ weeds from around the headstone, an’ Belinda Lou’s always tellin’ me that it’d be nice to meet some new folks now an’ then.”

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