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Volume IV January, 1929 Just Change or Progress?-Eleanor Copenhaver 1 Mountaineers in Mill Villages-Lois MacDonald . . . .. . . . . .. .. .. .. . 3 The Plight of the Small Farmer-Thomas Nixon Carver. . . Progressive Peasantry-Jakob Lange .......... The Shepherd of Red Bird-Flo)ence Elton Sinrier Coal Camps and CharacterE. V. Tadloclc . .. .. Number IV Industrial Development in the Southern Mountains--T. Ross Hill . . . . 25 Up Cyarr-May E. Smith ... "William Hall," a BalladGlades V. Jameson Published at Berea College, Berea, Ky., in the interest of fellowship and mutual understanding between the Appalachian Mountains and the rest of the nation January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 1 Mountain 1,ife N 1) Volume IV Mountain Life and Work Helen H. Dbagman . .............. Editor Dr. Yl% nz. James Hzitelzins . . . . . . . . Counsellor Orrin L. Keener . . . .... ... Associate Editor Luther M. AYnl)rose . . . . . . Business Manager CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Dr. Warren H. Wilson . . . . . . New York City Mrs. John C, Campbell . . . . Brasstown, N. C. Mr. Marshall E. Vaughn . . . . . . . Atlanta, Ga. Hon. W. 0. Saunders . . . . Elizabeth City, N. G. Dr. John P. McConnell . . . . East Radford, Va. Dr. Arthur T. McCormack . . . . Louisville, Ky. Dr. E, C, Branson . . . . . . . . Chapel Hill, N. C. Dr. John J. Tigert . . . . . . . . . . Gainesville, Fla. Issued quarterly-January, April, July, October Subscription Price $1.00 per year. Single Copy 330e Entered at the Post Office at Berea, Ky., as secondclass mail matter Address all communications to MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Berea, Kentucky JUST CHANGE OR PROGRESS? The classic story of the New England farmers who were forced by the ruggedness of the country to build their barns on the hillsides seems to have a perennial element in it. When these same farmers migrated to the midland plains having no hills to surmount they still built their barns very high up and arranged steep wooden approaches up which the horses had to struggle. Many of us in the Southern Highlands are in that same state of mind. We live in a myth ,January, 1929 Work Number IV of bygone days. We have thought that the population of our mountains was made up of independent, self-sustaining f a r m e r s who were wresting a living from a not always fruitful earth. We have boasted of the virtues of this sturdy Anglo-Saxon stock. We have let our schools, churches, and whatever social institutions there were develop on the assumption that we were an isolated rural people. Now almost over night, or certainly before we knew it, there has come a quiet revolution. Technicians call it the decentralization of industry. Ever since pioneer days the Southern Appalachians have been known to be rich in power. Now engineers tell that it is one of the great hydro-electric sections of the world. Experts disagree on the extent to which decentralization will take place. Some go so far as to say that in the future cities will only be used as marketing and distributing centers with most manufacture or making of goods taking place in the hinterland. Others say that as soon as the cheap labor supply runs low factory owners will find that electricity can just as well be taken to cities and that the advantages of being near the market offsets other obvious ones of lower production costs and being near raw products. It is not necessary to debate whether industry is a good or bad thing for the mountain region. I know groups of industrial girls who spent two years of studying and arguing on whether married women should work. Finally they decided that married women were working in great numbers whether they should or not and that it would be better for them to find out how they could conserve some of the values of home life, protect the single women, etc., than to try to stem the tide of married women pouring into industry. Interesting as it is to find why industry is penetrating the mountains, it is far more important for Page 2 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 us to realize that it is coming in and to know what our institutions can do to make ready for it. I know a fine lumberman with great holdings who gave thought to the families caught in the mountain hollows when the lumber ran out. He did not wish to move the mill away until he had found other things for them to do to make a living. He tried bee culture, cheese making, sheep raising, weaving, and chair making. None of these proved profitable. He next sponsored a mountain school tinder one of the churches. Then the question came, as it is coming and should come to many of the mountain schools, as to whether they should direct all their efforts toward fitting the students for mountain homes or whether they should admit from the beginning that these mountains could not offer a livelihood to many of the young people, and should try to find possible professions outside of the mountains and prepare their students for them. Mountain arts and crafts and farming cannot absorb the man power and woman power, so that for many moonshining has become the only paying industry. As in early pioneer days, life fell hardest on the woman, so in these new industrial frontiers the burden of adjustment rests most heavily on her. It profits Lis little to compare the lot of the mill worker with that of the mountain drudge in the home. The old war song "How are you going to keep him down on the farm after he has seen Paree?" has no more truth than "How are you going to keep her up in the hills after she has tried the mills?" The one great fact is that as long as these women have ready money they will not go back to mountain life without it. In some of the new communities electricity has come to the rescue of the housekeeper. In others there are no modern conveniences. Sometimes this is the fault of the women who are so saturated in the philosophy that a "man works from sun to sun but a woman's work is never done," that they seem to regard it as unwomanly for a ma~Ã‚Â°ried woman to have any leisure time. The grooves of their being are so used to ,perpetual work that they are unable to relax when leisure comes. Recently at a railroad junction leading into a mining camp section a young mother came to me with questions. She had all her possessions in a market basket. She was going to meet her husband and live in a mining town. The first year they were married he had gone to the mines in winter when there was nothing to do on the farm. The next year he had stayed longer and then he had decided that there was no use struggling with the farm any more. Her questions showed that she was overcome with the thought of leaving her home. Adjustment to life in the wilds of Africa would hardly have been more difficult for her than that of living out of tin cans in a mining camp. An examination of the thousands of individuals who have been transplanted from farm to industrial life and of the hundreds of communities which have undergone a similiar change would show that the trend toward decentralization of industry may be a blessing or a curse to both individuals and communities caught up in it. Mr. Henry Ford and others have believed that decentralization heralded a new day in industry. In one of his model communities and elsewhere, he hoped, getting back to nature or getting away from complex city life would counteract the wear and tear on body, mind and spirit, of over-mechanized jobs; at least in a man's leisure time he could escape from the machine. This has not been true of the rural industry communities that I have observed. In mining towns and mill villages the recreation is often commercialized to the limit and it has most of the vices and few of the virtues of city recreations. Delightful slants on these tendencies are to be found in the following excerpts from an article by Eleanor Risley on "Mountaineers and Mill Folks" in the Atlantic for November 1928. "They even don't bake they own bread. Jist runs out and buys a loaf, they's a big store they calls a commissary,-and eats and lights out for thim pictures movies. Hit seems ter make 'em go hawg-wild ter get the mill. They fergits Gawddlemighty en-tire!" (Contin.ited on Page 29) January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 3 MOUNTAINEERS IN MILL VILLAGES Bpi Lois MACDONALD, Author Instructor in Ecovo))aics, The story of the coming of the people from the Southern Mountains to work in the cotton mills of the Piedmont section is one of dramatic as well as social interest. It is the story of the re-emergence of a population which had been hidden in the mountain coves for several generations and had been trying to wrest a living from the rocky soil of the hillsides. The true significance of the coming of the agricultural mountaineer to the industrial villages is seen when one realizes who these mountain people are and how they happened to be in these mountain regions. Their history goes back to the period when "Cotton was King" in the South. At that tine the Southern states were putting every ounce of economic strength and vigor into the cultivation of cotton, which was done in most instances with slave labor. After the Industrial Revolution in England the demand for raw cotton from this country was much greater, and the invention of the cotton gin about the same time made it easier and more profitable to prepare cotton for the market. Large planters bought up much of the land, and cotton cultivation on an extensive scale was the rule of the day. By degrees the large planters displaced the small farmers who owned few slaves, if any at all, and whose work could not compete with that done by slaves on the large plantations. Some of the small farmers took up the poorer lands in the low country; still others of them were pushed back into the hills. Thus a group of people who might have been employed in some profitable mechanical pursuit (if there had been capital whose owners were disposed to invest in anything but cotton culture) and who might have contributed greatly to the balanced economic life for the South before the Civil War was forced to eke out a living by growing corn, tobacco, and po of "Southern Mill Hills", Nezv York University tatoes on land which was almost barren. The descendants of these people later came out of the hills and became an important part of the labor supply during the expansion period of the cotton industry in the 80's and 90's. During this expansion the nucleus of the labor supply came from two sources. At first the neighboring farmers were drawn in and tenant farmers moved into the mill villages with their whole families. As the mills grew and prospered the demand for labor became greater, so the circle from which labor was drawn grew wider and wider until finally it included the mountain people. Agents were sent by many mills into the remote districts, sometimes to put up posters and signs telling of the golden opportunities to be had at the mill for the asking, sometimes with instructions to engage laborers and furnish tickets for transportation, money for extra clothing, or any other necessities for the move from mountain to village. Frequently such a family would later return to visit in the mountain neighborhood, and the envy which their new clothes and their stories of money to be earned at the mills aroused among their old friends often proved to be as successful as a recruiting agency, as the effort of regularly employed agents. Dubose Heyward, in "Angel", gives a picture of such a mountain family and the comments which their evident prosperity provoked. This method of recruiting exerted considerable influence at all times, but probably more in recent years when transportation and communication between the mountain districts and the villages has become a more simple matter. Although in some respects the movement today is less of a mass movement than at earlier times, the mountain people are continuing to seek employment at the cotton mills, Page 4 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 and the employers in the cotton industry in the South continue to hope for a plentiful supply of labor from that source. With other types of industry springing up over the section it is likely that the mountain people will enter industries of other kinds, although the cotton mills may continue to attract them in more numbers since the mill village with a house al Ten Months from the Mountains ready provided makes moving from mountain to mill a task to be undertaken with greater ease than that of seeking a house and job at the same time. Naturally then, if one goes into the mill villages of the Piedmont one finds a great number of operatives who were born in the mountain regions, especially those of North Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee; also, there are more who report birth in the mountains among the operatives of the mills which are relatively close to the mountain sections. Most of them have left their homes in the hills and have ,journeyed to the villages with something of the same hope and spirit which pr~)mpts a workman from an European country to seek his fortune in America. What do these people find when they arrive at the mill village, what of their work, and of the communities in which they live? Having heard glowing stories, from their friends for the most part, of how one can fare well at the mill, they pick up their possessions and journey down the valleys, stopping usually at the first village: do they find their golden opportunities there? These are some of the questions which must be considered with regard to the desirability or undesirability of this fact of residence and of occupation. The first and most obvious fact to anyone familiar with the Southern cotton industry is that these workers live in peculiar, segregated communities, the mill villages mentioned above. These are typical company towns. They are unincorporated, being placed usually just outside the limits of a larger town or city. The mill company owns all of the land and most of the houses in the community-the dwelling houses, community centers, churches, and often the schools and stores. All of the activities of the village community are dependent on the pleasure of the mill management. Some of the villages are drab, colorless communities, but others have been built recently or have been repaired from time to time until they surpass in comfort and attractiveness many independent towns. The mountain worker finds himself living within a few yards of his neighbor, as the houses are usually placed close together. He finds a certain outlet in social life with his fellow workers, but perhaps the greatest change he finds is that of the condition of his work. Back in the hills the mountain farmer could work more or less at his own will. He was free-if only free to starve, as some per January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 5 sons have said of his life before coming to the mill. The implements which he used were of a relatively crude sort, and his life was in the open air. At the mill he goes to work when the whistle blows, and unless he takes a day off or the mill closes down, he works with regularity day in and day out. An examination shows a very high rate of labor turnover in the Southe} n mills; and a reason advanced for it is the difficulty which an agricultural worker finds in adjusting to a regular schedule; hence the great number of "days off." The open-air mountain worker, accustomed to the simple hoe and plow, or a gun for hunting, has become a tender of intricate machinery in a close, hot factory. His hours of work, his speed at work, and his task at work are set for him. He works a long day, nine hours at best, twelve hours at worst, and in addition he may work overtime or be employed on a night shift. When one meets these mountain people in heir villages, there are many stories to be heard of the hardships of life in spite of certain compensation. Probably the greatest compensation is the cash wage, even though this wage is one of the lowest paid in any major industry in the United States, and all or most of the members of the family frequently have to work so that a family can secure a living. But as neither the mountain nor lowland farmer has handled actual cash to very great extent before coming to the mills, there is some magic in the fact that a regular amount of money passes through his hands each week. With this wage, spent usually at the company store, can be had food of a different kind from the diet in the mountains. Most cotton mill workers use much canned goods and other prepared foods. There may be movies close at hand and there is a chance for more clothing and furnishings. The fact that most of the houses are meagerly furnished bespeak the fact that the small wage does not stretch as far as furnishings. On the whole there is no question but that 'he mountain worker has bettered his econom condition by moving to the mill, for he has the advantage of his small fairly regular wage. But whatever may be the economic advantage of his move there are other elements in the picture. While he has for himself and his children enlarged social contacts, these are contacts of a decidedly narrow sort: he lives in a segregated district. He has accessible schools for his children, often very good schools, but as often not. He lives in a community in which he does not perform the ordinary functions of citizenship, where the management of the mill owns the house in which he lives, where he lacks ordinary business and social relations with the world outside the village. In short his destiny and that of his children are woven by the mill. This condition serves often to emphasize the fact that the worker from the remote dis A Fairly Typical Southern Cotton Mill Village tricts has not had an opportunity to make outside contacts and to absorb knowledge of the world at large. It makes it less possible that he can shift to another occupation or that his children can do anything but follow him into the mill to work. This "paternalism" may in the long run be the cause of sapping the initiative of a group of people who are renowned for independence and self-reliance. Such statements as this are frequent. "The standard qualifications of the Southern textile operative, the pure-blooded Americanism which has made him the stanchest of citizens, the most reliable of workers, the most skilled of artisans, the most co-operative of agencies, the most loyal in mutual interests, the most intelligent of employees, is the force behind the Page 6 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 development of the textile industry in the South." Yet there is the paternalistic attitude going along with the eulogy, "But they (the operatives) are children and we (the managers) have to take care of them." There is little chance for the mill worker to own his own house, even though he had money, since as a rule it is the policy of the companies to own the houses and to employ those who live in them. The lack of home ownership and the ease with which a family can move from one place to another probably account for the fact that there are streams of workers going from village to village. This readiness to move is probably a symptom of unrest which has its origin in the lack of adjustment to environment. The family which come to the mill misses some of the advantages of the old way of life and expresses this feeling by moving to another village. It is their hope that more satisfactory surroundings will be found. Failing in this they attribute the fault to the particular village and other moves are made until the roving spirit becomes a chronic habit. Here again is a reason for high turnover. Certainly the mill and its village offer to a poor mountain or tenant farmer a way out of an economic difficulty. Here is an occupation which can be entered with little or no training. But this has its unfortunate aspects as well. Since most of the processes require little skill, it is easy for children to enter the mills as early as the legal requirement permits. Indeed, the past record of the extent to which small children have been used in the mills is one to which few Southerners will "point with pride." The child labor laws in the various states have made a decided improvement in this direction, but there remains a serious difficulty confronting the children of cotton mill workers. It is hard for them to escape going to work in the mills. The low wages paid to the adult workers frequently makes some employment for the children necessary as soon as the law permits. It is very often true that all those who live in a house belonging to the mill must work in the mill if they work at all. The work in the mill re quires little training, the mill is conveniently located, perhaps the householder cannot send the children in his family away to work without losing his job, the family needs money-all these factors unite to send the children of most mill workers into the mill to form the next generation of operatives. There are a few exceptions to this, but the fact that a mill child who has achieved success in some other occupation is pointed out as a special person is itself a testimony to the fact that the feat is exceptional. This situation would seem likely to lead to the development of a kind of industrial caste system in this country-a condition of semiservitude in which the freedom-loving mountaineer will be caught. There is a current expression "once a mill hand, always a mill hand" which attests to the permanence of the relationship. Many mountain workers have stated that they wished to use the mill as a stepping stone, but say, "When once you get set on a mill hill, there's no getting away from it. You can move to another one but you won't better yourself." If in the future the mountaineer operative, as well as all operatives, is able to use the mill as a means to an end-the end of getting established at a job and then attaining, through either the job in the mill or another, a rising standard of living-his future will be as assured as that of any wage earner under the present system. There are few indications of this on the surface at the present time, yet there are certain economic influences at work which will eventually put the operative in a stronger position. The cotton industry of the South is becoming a national one. It cannot hold on much longer to the advantage gained because of certain natural advantages of the past. Even so, however, the questions brought up by the semi-dependence of the mill village with its restrictions on personal and occupational freedom, are such as cannot afford to await the long-run tendencies of the "economics of the situation," but they need the careful attention of thoughtful people who are interested in either the mill operatives or the larger communities of which they are parts. January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 7 SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY ON THE MILL VILLAGE Blanchard, Paul, Labor iii Sonthern Cotton Mills, The Neiv Republic, Inc., New York. 1927. A popular but accurate treatment of conditions of labor in the villages. Cook, J. H., A Studq of the Mills Schools in North Carolina, Teachers College, Columbia, University, New York, 1925. A doctoral dissertation on school conditions in North Carolina villages, accounts of tests, given mill children, with sufficient interpretation of conditions to give graphic picture. MacDonald, Lois, Southern Mill Hills. The Hillman-Bird Company, New York, 1928. Case studies of three Carolina villages to discern the process of individual adjustment to mill village conditions. Mitchell, Broadus, The Rise of the Cotton Mills in the South, The Johns Hopkins Press, T3altimore, 1921. A scholarly treatment of the history of the mills in the South, by a man who knows his subject. One chapter devoted to the role of labor and another to the role of capital. Potwin, Marjorie, The Cotton Mill People of the Piedmont. Columbia University Press, New York, 1927. A case study of a South Carolina village. Although a doctoral dissertation, it has been severely criticized as being biased and Ltnscientific. Tannenbaum, Frank, Dancer Phases of the Sonth. G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York, 1924. One chapter is a journalistic treatment of the mill villages. This has been criticized also, but is more analytic than the above. Thompson, Hollard, Front Cotton Field to Cotton Mill. The MacMillan Company, New York, 1906. A readable account of the industrial transition in North Carolina. It is old, and therefore does not deal with present conditions, but is an excellent treatment of the earlier years. AÃ‚Â»zerican Labor Legislation Review, Vol. XVIII, No. 1, March, 1928. Contains the papers read at the 1927 meeting of the American Association of Labor Legislation. The breneral subject of the meeting Nvas "The South and Industry." Johnson, Gerald W., "The Monster Behind the 1\Iask," Surrey Graphic, Vol. 50, No. 8, April 1, 1923. A critical attempt to understand the employee's point of view. Journal of Social Forces, Vol. II, No. 3, March, 1924. Contains two articles on the mill village, one presenting a defense, the other a criticism. Mitchell, Broadus, "Fleshpots in the South," Virginia Quaz,terly Rei,iew, Vol. III, No. 2, April, 1927. A scathing indictment of the present attitude in the South towards the mill problem, looking to the past and not to the future. Mitchell, Broadus, "Southern Spindles," Yale Revieic, Vol. 14, No. 5, May, 1926. A discussion of present conditions and trends, touching the mill village only incidentally. "THE HANDICRAFTER" Those who are interested in weaving and other colonial arts will enjoy a new bi-monthly magazine, "The Handicrafter," which is published at Jamaica Plains, Mass. It is an exponent of art in the American handcrafts and should be a great aid to those working in that field. Especially interesting and valuable are these articles on weaving Fireside Industries of Berea College, by Anna Ernberg. Patriot Weave, by Myra L. Davis. Much information necessary to handicrafters, much that is of interest to the general reader, is found within the pages of this magazine. We welcome it into the service of those who create with their hands. To know and to have lost the power of learning, to be educated and to be unable still to improve one's education, is to bring one's life to a standstill, and the right name for that is not life but death.-Benedetto Croce. Page 8 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 THE PLIGHT OF THE SMALL FARMER By THOMAS NIXON CARVER, Professor of An address given at Berea College, October 18, 1928, at the dedication of a building devoted to the Agricultural Sciences* It is well known that we in the United States, who were once a nation of farmers, are rapidly becoming a nation of city dwellers. Every ten years, the census enumerators find a larger and larger proportion of our people living in cities and a smaller and smaller proportion of our people living on farms. Unless someone can show a convincing reason to the contrary, we must assume that this tendency will continue, and that future censuses will show a still greater growth of cities and a still greater shrinkage of our rural population. When we look for some reasons for a change of tendency, we are not likely to find them. We find, on the other hand, rather convincing reasons to expect that the cityward tendency will continue and even accelerate. There are three outstanding facts which, taken together, indicate that farmers will form a smaller and smaller proportion of our total population; first, the demand for agricultural products increases very slowly; second, the efficiency of agriculture, as evidenced by the increasing product per farm worker, is increasing at a rapid rate; and third, we, a mechanically-gifted people, are likely to find in, creasing profit in buying the products of outdoor industry from other countries, working these products over in our indoor industries, and selling them back at advanced prices. The American demand for the great staple food products, such as wheat, corn, beef, and pork, does not expand rapidly, for the excellent reason that the capacity of the American stomach is limited. As incomes increase, the surplus is spent for other things than increased quantities of food. For some of these *Part of the material in this address appeared in an article in World's Work for September, 1928-"The Vanishing Farmer." Political Econof)2y, Harvard Uniz'ersit-y. other things-especially for sources of amusement-the demand seems practically unlimited, and surplus spending money is spent on these things rather than on the necessaries. Very little more food, measured in physical terms, is bought by the rich than by the poor, by workers who receive high than by workers who receive low wages. A little more may be spent for quality and flavor, even though no more is spent for bulk and nourishment. This provides a slightly expanding market for the finer fruits and vegetables, but not for the great staple crops. It does not furnish much relief for our farmers for two reasons. First, our people are less inclined to seek the pleasures of the palate than the joys of action. Consequently they are more likely to spend their surplus for automobiles, sports, or active amusements than for gastronomic delicacies. Second, such demand as there is for gastronomic delicacies tends to be supplied from tropical and semi-tropical regions. The per capita consumption of wheat flour seems to be decreasing rather than increasing, in spite of the low price of wheat. This seems to be balanced by an increasing per capita consumption of sugar. Our people seem to be acting on the French queen's suggestion to eat cake instead of bread. The per capita consumption of beef seems also to be decreasing, though this might be explained by the high retail prices. At any rate, it looks as though the per capita demand for the great staple food products has about reached its limit, and that our farmers must therefore wait for the slow increase of the number of consumers or else find new populations somewhere in the world that will buy their products. The demand for many other things, such as automobiles, radio sets, electric household devices, etc., increases so much faster than population as to absorb our surplus spending money and furnish an January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 9 outlet for our increasing productive power. As with food, so with cotton. There does not seem to be any immediate prospect of an increase in the per capita demand for that staple. It does not take any more cotton to produce fine, than it does to produce coarse fabrics. As prosperity increases, more money will doubtless be spent for quality and style in textiles, but not much more for quantity. In fact, if present fashions continue, the per capita quantity of cotton worn may diminish. In a less fortunate age, when the masses were poorly fed and clothed, a little increase in their prosperity meant increased purchasing of the basic necessaries of life. In the age that is just arriving in this country, when the masses are well fed and clothed, an increase in popular prosperity does not noticeably expand the market for these basic necessaries. Of course there are, in other parts of the world, vast populations that are still poorly fed and clothed. If some way can be found to increase their purchasing power they may buy more of our food and cotton. Here is where a wise international policy may profoundly affect our agricultural prosperity. If the only factor in the problem were the fact that the per capita consumption of the leading agricultural products does not increase, that would furnish no sufficient reason why the ratio of farm workers to the total population might not be maintained. But when we add to this fact that each farm worker is producing more and more, we find a convincing reason for anticipating a positive decline in the proportion of farm workers to the total population. It is apparent, therefore, that if these two tendencies continue-that is, if the per capita demand for agricultural products should remain stationary while the product per farm worker should continue to increase, a smaller and smaller proportion of our workers can, by working on our farms, supply farm products for the whole population, even if we should always remain agriculturally self-supporting. The tendency of our farm population to dwindle will become still stronger if we should cease to be an agriculturally self-supporting nation. This means an increasing tendency-the ultimate results of which can scarcely be foreseen -for the whole country to become urbanized and to live on the profits of indoor industries, following the example of New England, England, and Belgium. When this tendency is complete, we shall as a nation be living very largely-as certain small urbanized sections are already living-by bringing in the products of outdoor industries, transforming them into manufactured products, and selling them at advanced prices. The conclusion that our farm population will continue to decrease relatively is based in part upon another assumption. That assumption is that farming shall continue to be regarded as an industry rather than a means of subsistence. If it continues to be regarded as an industry, farmers will continue to equip themselves with larger and more efficient implements and machines in order to increase the product per man more and more. This will mean, as stated above, that fewer and fewer men will be needed on the farms to provide food and clothing materials. If farming ceases to be an industry and becomes a means of subsistence, as it is in certain old and overcrowded countries, every farm will be regarded primarily as a means of subsistence for a farm family, the acreage per family may then be indefinitely reduced, and the whole system of farming changed. Instead of tractors, smaller power units will be used on these farms. As the farms are reduced in size, these power units are correspondingly reduced, from four-horse to two-horse teams, from horse to ox teams, from ox teams to teams of cows, and finally to handwork without auxiliary labor. The primary purpose of each farm will be to grow food and clothing material for the family. The equipment and the methods of cultivation will all be determined by that purpose. In short, our agriculture will more and more resemble that of the small peasant farmer of Europe, or even that of the overcrowded Oriental countries. Obviously, this way of farming is an inefficient use of man power. The product per unit of labor is small. It would be a misfor Page 10 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 tune to adopt it in this country, and it will not be adopted unless our farm people undergo a complete mental revolution. They are likely to plan their farming operations more and more with a view to saving labor or to increasing the product per man. To peasantize the small farmer, and force him to farm for mere subsistence would be his damnation and not his salvation. When I speak of the small farmer, therefore, I do not mElan the very small farmer who farms for mere subsistence on a small plot, using only his own muscles as a source of power. I mean rather the farmer who works on his land with his own hands, but equips himself with an abundance of auxiliary power and powerdriven machinery, having land enough to make that machinery economical. It must be remembered that the typical American farmer is the farmer who works his own farm either as an owner or as a renter. He is not a mere owner of farm land who hires his work done. When we are casting about for something to do for the farmer we must have the working farmer in mind and not the nonworking owner of farm land, who is not, properly speaking, a farmer at all. One thing that distinctly menaces the working farmer is the wholesale importation of cheap labor. At the present time this means cheap Mexican labor. The sooner we can extend the immigration law so as to put the American continent on the quota basis, the better it will be for the American farmer. Besides its effect on the working farmer, the wholesale immigration of Mexican peons has already created another race problem in the United States. If it continues long enough it will make the conditions of rural life so bad that no white family will care to live in the country at all where they have to compete with peon labor. Besides, it will not relieve the pressure created by the fact that there are too many farmers. It will increase the pressure by substituting cheap peon labor in large quantities for smaller quantities of high priced American labor. It is sometimes mistakenly suggested that, by furnishing the farmer with a supply of cheap labor we can reduce his cost of production and thus enable him to farm at a profit. But cheap labor does not reduce the cost of production to the farmer `vho does not hire any labor but does his own work. A general supply of cheap labor available for big farmers would tend to lower the price of farm products by expanding production. This would force even the small farmer who did his own work to sell his products at a lower price, which lower price, as stated above, would not be compensated by the lower cost of production. In short, it would impoverish him. A fairly large farmer who hired a good deal of extra help but did some of his own work would, along with the others, have to sell his products at lower prices. But he would be compensated, perhaps more than compensated, for the lower prices by the lower wages with which he could hire his labor. The very large farmer who hired all his labor and devoted his time to management, would likewise have to sell at a lower price, but this lower price would be more than compensated by the lower wages with which he could hire his labor. The general result would be that the smaller farmers would be impoverished more or less and the larger farmers enriched more or less according to the percentage of the labor which they hired. In short, the presence of cheap labor invariably impoverishes those who have to compete with it, and enriches those who are in a position to take advantage of it. In other words, it tends to produce a class of poor farmers on the one hand and of rich farmers on the other. I know of no exception to this rule either in theory or history. The case is quite parallel to the introduction of slave labor in the South at an early day. This was cheap labor. Because it was cheap labor-not because it was black, not because it was slave, but because it was cheap--it enriched the few large farmers who could take advantage of it, but it impoverished the small farmers who had to compete with it. It is interesting to note that in the efforts of past years to restrict immigration, the country has tended to divide on that question on the basis January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 11 of urban and rural interests. The great cities in which vast numbers of foreign-born have already congregated have uniformly opposed any restriction of immigration. The rest of the country has been almost unanimous for restriction. In a recent article by Mark Sullivan he analyzes the votes in Congress on various restriction measures. He finds that most of the opposition to restriction is centered in New York City. If we eliminate the votes of Congressmen from the city of New York, who are almost unanimously opposed to restriction the opposition to restriction is negligible. If we eliminate not only New York City but the Congressmen from four or five large cities the opposition is practically nonexistent. I do not hesitate to say that the restriction of immigration is the most important single piece of legislation of the last generation in the interest of the working farmer and of the city wage-worker. The most important piece of legislation that is likely to come up during the next few years is a bill for extending the present immigration law to Mexico and the rest of the American Continent, and there is not the slightest doubt that when this bill comes up the same alignment will show itself. The Congressmen from a few of the larger cities will oppose the bill, the Congressmen from the rest of the country will favor it. The greatest thing, however, that can be done for the farmer lies outside the field of farming altogether. It is concerned with general living conditions in the country. It is commonly assumed that the fact that a smaller and smaller proportion of our people will be needed to work our farms carries with it the conclusion that a smaller and smaller proportion of our people will live in the country. This, however, is based on the assumption that no one will live in the country unless he is a farm worker, or that the country is so much less desirable than the city as a place in which to live that no one will live in the country unless his work requires it. If there is something inherent in the nature of the country life that makes it inferior to city life, instead of trying to stem the tide of migration from the country to the city, we should try, rather, to help it along. We should be compelled to regard the rural community as a kind of penal colony from which the natives would escape as soon as they could find a way of making a living in town, and to which townsmen would turn only as a last resort, when they could not make a living anywhere else. How startling it would seem if some one were to suggest that no one would live in a city whose work did not require him to. Yet we calmly assume that only those will continue to live in the country whose work requires it. Needless to say, most of those measures for specific farm relief are like other measures for specific relief, namely, useless or harmful. Some physical maladies must be outgrown, or measures must be taken which will build up the system and enable it to conquer the malady. In such cases the man who offers a specific cure is a plain quack. This holds true also of many economic maladies. One sample of a specific cure for the farmers' ills is that of organized dumping of our surplus on foreign markets. The principle of such a bill is the purchase, by a board financed by the government, of enough of a major crop, at some price agreed upon, to establish that at the American price for that crop. That is simply a question of enough money to buy enough of the crop. The next question is, what to do with the amount purchased. This is to be sold on the markets of the outside world for the best price which can be had, presumably at a loss. This loss is then to be assessed back on those producers who were benefited by the high domestic price. The mechanics of this operation is what some people are afraid of. That, however, is the least of the difficulties. The real difficulty will arise from the principle and not from the mechanics of the thing. Suppose, for example, that the bill should apply to such a major crop as cotton. In that case, the Board would be selling to the European cotton manufacturer at a lower price than the American cotton manufacturer would have to pay. How long would the American cotton manufacturers and the workers in the cotton Page 12 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 mills stand that? If the bill does not apply to the cotton crops, our Board will be selling them to European consumers at lower prices than American consumers have to pay. How will consumers like that, and, what is more to the point, how long will consumers, who can always outvote the producers, permit it to go on? If, instead of artificially dumping the surplus on foreign markets, thereby selling to foreigners cheaper than to our own people, we can pursue a wise international policy which will increase the foreign demand for our products, we can get all the benefits without the evil effects of the dumping policy. That is one reason why every farmer ought to be vitally interested in our foreign commercial relations during the next few years. The largest single factor in American life, either urban or rural, is the school. The greatest single advantage of life in the city over life in the country is the superiority of the city schools over those of the country. The greatest single thing that could be done toward making country life as attractive as city life would be to place within reach of every country child as good a school as is provided for the city child. A beginning-but only a beginning-has been made in this direction in the movement for consolidated schools in the country. One serious handicap to this movement is the lack of funds for the financial support of these consolidated schools, or, if they are adequately supported, the severe tax burdens that they impose upon farmers. The nation at large has an interest in these country schools almost as vital as the rural communities themselves. This interest is found in the fact that a large proportion of those who are trained in any country school will inevitably find their way to the cities. They will use for the building up of cities the education that they received in country schools, and for which country people had to pay. Thus the cities are directly grafting upon the county taxpayers. If the rural school is not improved-that is, if certain rural districts refuse to tax themselves for the purpose of educating the future city workers-the cities will suffer quite as much as the country. The lack of education will not prevent the reduction in the number of farm workers, nor retard their movement to the city. The difference will be that the cities will receive from the country uneducated and therefore less valuable workers than they would receive if country people would pay the cost of educating these future city workers. It is, in short, much to the advantage of the cities that country people should tax themselves to the bone in order to train workers for the cities. Possibly the cities may be brought to feel a sense of shame on account of this situation, and therefore be willing to pay out considerable money in the form of taxes in order to win back their self respect. No single city can do much in this direction. It is a situation that calls for both state and federal action. This can be made perfectly clear as soon as we clarify our ideas as to the general purpose of education. So long as we hold to the mistaken notion that education is a kind of consumer's satisfaction, or that schools exist for the same purpose as moving picture theatres, victrolas, and radio sets, there would seem to be no good reason why one person or one community should be taxed to provide entertainment or amusement for another. When we arrive at the true conception of a school as a means of training future workers, it will be easy to see why the communities that are to receive the benefit of that training should help to pay for it. Since it is rather obvious that cities are to receive a large part of the benefit of the training that is furnished by the country schools, or that cities are to share the penalty if country schools are ineffective, it should be equally obvious that cities should help pay for the support of country schools. Of course, no one can tell in advance ,just which cities are to receive the benefit of the training that is being furnished by any given country school. We do know, however, that all cities of the country are going to receive a large part of the benefit of all the good country schools, and a large part of the evil of all the bad country schools. That being the case, x,11 cities should be called upon to pay a part January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 13 of the cost of all country schools. This could easily be achieved by liberal federal support. A comprehensive and nation-wide program cf school building, and support, standardized, administered, and partially supported from Washington, would not only be the greatest thing that could be done for the farmers; it would also be the greatest thing that could be done for the general advancement of the nation as a whole. The amazing prosperity of this country at the present time and the wide diffusion of that prosperity are owing, more than to any other single factor, to our great system of popular education. If we expect to maintain our leadership in this respect we must not rest on past achievements but must proceed to the building of a greater and greater school system. The best possible way to insure the development of the physical resources of a continent is to turn a trained population loose upon them. That is the way this country has developed thus far, and it is the way the countries to the south of us will be developed, if they ever are developed. Next to our system of popular education, the public health movement is the most constructive and beneficent of all the social movements now going on in this country. This movement has scarcely begun to affect the rural districts, and yet there is greater need for it in the country than in the city. It is commonly recognized that the farm woman is more likely to be discontented with farm life than is the farmer himself. The reasons are not far to seek. She is probably a little more interested than he is in the education of her children; but a more acute reason is in the general lack of rural sanitation and medical help. It is becoming increasingly difficult to induce thoroughly trained medical men to go into country practice. This tends more and more to leave country people at the mercy of halftrained, sometimes positively ignorant, country doctors who are a menace rather than a safeguard to the health of the communities in which they practice. The single and rather frequent incident of childbirth in a country home may serve to emphasize the importance of the point I am now making. A woman who has to face that ordeal in a country home without sanitary appliances, with no skilled nursing, dependent wholly upon the kindly ministrations of neighbor women who rally to her support, and with no medical attendance except that of an untrained country doctor, cannot be blamed for being dissatisfied with country life. When she once finds out the advantages of lying-in hospitals with trained nurses and skillful obstetricians, she can hardly be blamed if she finally persuades her husband to give up farming-which does not pay anyway-and move to town, where even the poor have better schools, Letter hospitals, and better general medical help than even the well-todo farmers. It has been demonstrated time and again that a small cottage hospital is feasible and economical. A general public health campaign that could put a clinic and small hospital within easy driving distance of every farm would help to equalize the desirability of country and city life. With such hospitals at frequent intervals throughout the country, practice would begin to appeal once more to the graduates of our best medical colleges. Schools, hospitals, and roads, thereforeand still better schools, hospitals and roadsare, I do not hesitate to say, the greatest needs of country life; and if anything constructive and of lasting importance can be done for the farmer it will be in this direction. I have traveled in every state in the Union, formerly on horseback and on a bicycle, lately by automobile and train. Wherever I have gone I have looked for rural communities in which one would as willingly live, year in and year out, as in a city. There are a few such communities. The best of them have, without exception, a combination of fine schools, surfaced roads, and hospitals with trained nurses and skilled medical help. Of these three factors the school is the most important. I have not found a single case of even a tolerably good rural community that did not have as its nucleus a fine school. I have bicycled somewhat extensively through the rural districts of Europe. There the village church is the (Contilzrted my Pagc 2If) Page 14 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 PROGRESSIVE PEASANTRY By JACOB E. LANCE, Warden of SinaLLholcle7.s' School, Denmark. (Ed. Note: Those concerned about "the plight of the small farmer" in the United States may be interested in how Denmark solved her problem. This is an address delivered at the Williamstown Institute of Politics, Aug. 1928. ) "In Denmark the Peasantry is not the fourth estate but the first". In times like ours, times of war and afterwar when every day is an eventful one and new history is broadcast every evening to a dazzled public, when kingdoms are made and unmade and social experiments on a gigantic scale are carried on under our eyes, a social-economic conference has little to attract the sensation hunter. And even to ourselves it may seem rather insignificant, not likely to retard or accelerate the revolution of the globe. Yet it is not only the tempest that tells but the quiet calm. And we know that the destructive forces which are let loose in political and economic warfare and which are responsible for that disintegration of universal co-operation which is the root cause of economic crises, unemployment, and social devastation-we know that these cannot be fettered by mere force. If we can promote and strengthen national and international co-operation, the foundation of which is truth and justice, we shall not have been here in vain. And by giving you an idea of what little progress it has been our good fortune to make in Denmark, I hope to add my mite to the forces that make for true advance. But is there really anything to tell you from Denmark to strengthen your convictions or give you new hope? Have we anything to show you, any results worth recording? Is Denmark in any way a country where can be seen a people striding towards that economic emancipation for which it is our longing to pave the way? Certainly there is nothing for us to brag of. The economic emancipation of our people so far has been an evolution, rather slow and never revolutionary, but rarely brought to a complete stand-still or becoming retrograde. In a peculiar way it has been the good fate of Denmark for the last 150 years to be a place where even ill winds have blown some good and where the currents of liberty which reached our shores always engendered new and fresh lifelike the "Gulf-stream" to the North European coastlands. Even absolute 7n,onarchy-which in Denmark lasted till 1849-was beneficial insofar as it stood as a bar against that economic enslavement which in many countries was the sinister result of nobility-rule during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The absolute king never allowed the land to be taken from the peasant-population. Even if the peasant, in the "dark ages" which culminated about 1770, were tied to the parish of his birth, even if he had to take his land from the hand of the lord of the manor instead of being, as of old, himself a proprietor, the lord, on the other hand, could not take the land from him, could not eat up whole villages or add acre to acre that he might "dwell alone in the midst of the land." The land was always to be held in tenure for life, at a customary rent. By fair means or foulmostly foul-the nobility in some cases succeeded in circumventing these regulations, but the exceptions only proved the rule. And when the days of tilling in common were over and the fields of every village were divided into independent farms, no aristocratic parliament existed to enact enclosure laws "to steal the common from the goose" to deprive the people of the commons, but all such lands were divided for the benefit of the population. When in the latter part of the eighteenth January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 11; century the ideas of the Physiocrats from France permeated all the continental countries, Denmark was, I believe, the only place where these ideas were, to a certain extent, acted upon. All the peasant-liberation enactments of the 1780'x-which may truly be called the foundation of modern Denmark-grew from this seed, and fortunately they were not, as in other countries, ploughed under almost before the seed had begun to germinate. Thus enjoying a certain freedom of trade and benefiting from an effective, although oldfashioned, land-values taxation (i. e. on agricultural value,) the Danish peasant comparatively quickly bought out the landlord's interest in his land and became a proprietor. And feeling the yoke fall from his shoulders, he slowly roused himself to take the first strides in his uphill course. Later, when the great struggle for Free Trade in England ended by the total repeal of the corn laws, thus opening up to us the market of the world, the position of the peagiant-proprietor `vas further improved and his activities stimulated. Shortly after, about 1849, political emancipation. with equal suffrage was attained by peaceful means-while in Germany the revolutionary efforts in the same direction were frustrated by reactionary powers. And though a similar reactionary movement soon set in and, due to the general enervation brought about by the crushing blow of the war with Germany (1864) which almost bled the people to death, succeeded in abrogating political freedom by transforming the Upper House into a stronghold for the upper classes, more especially the big landed interests- even this was not without beneficial effect on our whole public life. Nay, what was planned as a bar against the onward march of the people became a lever for its true emancipation, for the ccntinuous struggle of the succeeding fifty years, to regain what had been lost, in a most beneficial way united town and country in a common cause. The landowning peasantry, who made up the great bulk of the country population, re.'used to be used as a heavyweight force by the aristocracy against the classes below, the industrial workers, who were about that time organizing under socialistic banners. On the contrary, the peasant, naturally wary of progress and inclined to a somewhat conservative narrowmindedness, became the central body of the liberal host. This political position, or rather this tendency towards progress political, also influenced his mind towards progress economic. Unable in his political strife with the aristocratic landowner-party to get the upper hand by main force, he took up the battle in his own way, namely, by outdoing the big landowner in the field, in the cow-stall, and in the dairy. This was the mental and political background for that extensive and widely ramified co-operation which was to become, to the generation following, such a strong power for overcoming the difficulties of the times. And this was the secret of its success. Created by the country-population itself, in times of need, these co-operative undertakings have been improved and extended by the constant attention of the people. As the co-operatives were felt to be a most important means not only of economic betterment but of emancipation, their owners, the peasant-proprietors, although generally slow-going and pretty close managers who weigh the shilling in their hand before spending it, or rather turn it twice and then put it back again, would spare nothing which could further their economic success. And, engaged in a dire struggle against political privilege, even the well-to-do big peasant-proprietor could not think of reserving for himself any privileged place in their management. Consequently almost all these undertakings were built upon a foundation of absolute democracy, i. e., one man, one vote, so that a poor fellow with only one cow had as much to say as a big boss with a hundred. Thus was secured that unity which is at the root of our agricultural progress-as of all true democracy. It would carry me too far if I were to dwell upon all the various movements of the time, spiritual and other, which, running parallel or in opposite direction, furthered or stimulated this emancipation movement. I shall Page 16 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 only say a few words about the best known of these, the folk school movement. As Carlyle says about the clay on the potter's wheel, that it cannot be formed without being set in motion, so education cannot tie forced on a stagnant mind. But to a peasantry just starting on an uphill course to work out its own salvation, the high school idea, originating in the mind of truly great educators who clearly perceived not only that "we must educate our rulers," but that the field of Denmark had become too small to allow any part of it to lie fallow, came as a godsend. Young men and women, chiefly small farmers' sons and daughters, flocking together at these schools, there found not only an emporium from which to augment their scanty stock of book-learning, but a source of true education, an opportunity for broadening their minds and getting in touch with that progressive spirit which had begun to permeate the work of the people in the home-field, in their co-operative undertakings, and on the political battlefield. And the more these people's high schools were looked down upon by conservative or reactionary university circles, the more truly they were felt to be the people's own creation, thus becoming to the small man's son in a democratic age what Oxford and Cambridge have been to the gentry of England in an age of aristocratic rule. But on the fundamental economic problems more especially the land-question and its evolution in Denmark, I must dwell a little more at length. To the peasant of the 70's and 80's, especially the larger peasant-proprietor, the land question was, so to speak, non-existent. The land was his already. The only thing lacking was to alter what still existed of life-tenancy into pea*int-proprietorship, and perhaps to win back for the peasantry part of those wide manorial fields which the aristocracy by foul or fair means had succeeded in carving for themselves out of the villagefields and commons. He was not even alive to the great and dangerous fact that a landless class was constantly growing about him. Perhaps his thoughts might have been voiced thus: "Why, if only they were diligent and clever enough, could they not buy land and become peasantproprietors themselves? And if that did not suffice, there was America with plenty of room." And the landless man himself dumbly acquiesced. If ever his thoughts went beyond his daily round of work and his long walk to and from, morning and night, he thought of America or the town. Very few before the end of the 80's perceived how fatal was the rapid growth of a landless or quasi-landless class, already in the middle of the last century more numerous than the farmer-peasant. The "Husmand" [Houseman, a man who either has no land attached to his house or only some few (1-16) acres] was losing out. And while the peasantproprietor made steady progress in the 60's and 70's, the Husmand, on the other hand, deprived of outlook, initiative and hope, was on the way to become proleterianized like his fellows in other countries. This retrograde movement was barred by two important facts. First, equal suffrage had been given already in 1849, even to the landless worker. In the standing political strife between the liberal peasant-proprietor and the reactionary large landowner, the vote of the Husmand might turn the scale either way. He decided for the former, leaving the wagon of the boss, which formerly took him to the polling-place, for the cart of his neighbor, the peasant-proprietor. Second, the economic evolution in agriculture taking place at the same period greatly enhanced the possibilities of the Husmand as a farmer, and co-operation on a strictly democratic basis was an outstretched hand to help him on. This forward movement was greatly facilitated by the whole structure of the Husmand class. It was not merely a big crowd of landless farm-labourers, but included also the cottage-owners and small farmers of all descriptions, from the landless up to the peasant-proprietor. And such an unbroken chain may serve as a natural conductor for social and mental currents from top to bottom, and may transmit any "motion" even to the very lowest. Thus instead of making organized strife (Continued on Page N'3) January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 17 THE SHEPHERD OF RED BIRD By FLORENCE Seven years ago a jolt wagon, drawn by two mules and driven by a mountaineer, came slowly up the Red Bird Creek. There was no road, only a trail which led deeper and deeper into the hills. Most of the way the wagon jolted along the creek, having to cross and recross it one hundred and thirty-one times in twelve miles. At last a triangular little valley was reached, and there the weary mules and no less weary passengers stopped. The travelers were at their destination at last. It was the scattered village of Beverly, Kentucky, in the wildest part of the Cumberlands. Years before, a boy on an Iowa farm had been thrilled with the, spirit of Daniel Boone and other brave pioneers who had blazed trails in far-away places, and had determined to be a pioneer himself some day. The stories of such lives were eagerly read and cherished, and the desire grew with the years. Later when the call came from God through his own church, the Reverend J. J. DeWall left a comfortable and delightful pastorate at LeMars, Iowa, and with Mrs. DeWall and two lovely little children, came to Kentucky. With a vision of the great possibilities, and with a heart moved by the awful need, he followed the gleam, and it led him to this neglected place where lawlessness and ignorance reigned. One mountain mother, whose children are now being educated, tells how night after night her pillow was wet with tears as she prayed, "Oh God, send some one here to save the children of these hills, my own and all those who will go to destruction if help and education are not theirs." The DeWall family was warmly welcomed by Mr. Millard Knuckles and his wife. Their cabin was small, but with the true hospitality for which the mountaineer is noted the extra beds were "laid on the floor" and the walls of the little mountain home sheltered them all. ELTON SINGER The friendship and loving co-operation then begun have never failed, but have grown beautifully through the years. The land given by the Knuckles family was the beginning of a Compound whereon are now a number of buildings: dormitories for girls and boys; three, comfortable houses for workers; a beautiful chapel of native wood, its interior panels polished and fine grained, and its hardwood floors equal in beauty to any in the land; the school building, its spacious auditorium hung with the banners of students' oratorical and athletic victories; a power house and electric light system, which away in the depths and darkness of the mountains is symbolical of the "Light of the World" that shines in many lives and is leading the students to a greater realization of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, the source of all real wisdom. There is also a modern stable where the faithful animals that are the only means of communication with the outside world are housed and fed. What stories of heroism could be told by "Bill," Mr. DeWall's faithful horse, of the missions on which he had carried his master, the Shepherd of Red Bird; or by "Adam" the faithful mule, who has carried our doctor over three thousand miles this year on his errands to the sick and suffering; or by "Major," the pet of the workers, upon whom the nurses depend at night for his sure-foote.dness and clear sight to carry them in the darkness over the trails to the bedside of some suffering one. They, too, have their important but lowly part in this great work. Recently these faithful animals followed the "jolt-wagon" in the sad-hearted little cortege which bore back to his beloved Red Bird all that was mortal of the Red Bird Shepherd. Still in the prime of life-only forty-two-this wonderful spirit-filled man from Iowa made the supreme sacrifice for the work and people Page 1$ MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 of Southeastern Kentucky. His death was a great shock. Of large physique, indomitable will and great executive ability, he lived to the limit, and as some of us know, often beyond his physical strength. A great leader, he was loved and is revered by his coterie of consecrated co-workers, and by the mountain people whose love and confidence he had so securely and completely won-people who are now as sheep without a shepherd except as they come into the blessed realization that "The Lord is their Shepherd" and will never fail them. The story of the splendid work done, its wide scope, and the victories and miracles in the lives of people of this region, need a volume to record and an inspired pen to write. The Reverend DeWall was an expansionist Christian workers of the highest ideals. They cherish the memory of the familiar and beloved figure of the Red Bird Shepherd as he sat in their midst on Sunday evenings, always at the close of the meeting giving helpful and loving aid and sending them out thrilled with his oldnew message-thrilled, but always in the humble spirit of devotion and service which characterized all his own actions. Those hours are precious now, and those never forgotten words linger in euLch young heart, for the soul of John Johnson DeWall, the beloved Red Bird Shepherd, is marching on. One of the great events of this past year was the dedication of the new hospital and the inauguration, under Dr. Harlem Heim, of a wide-spread medical work in a territory coverir_g miles and miles where a doctor had never The, Shepherd of Red Bird for Christ's Kingdom. Beverly, two and a half miles from the border line of five counties, was a strategic center for his great work. Schools and church houses have been built at outlying points-Beech Fork, Jack's Creek, and recently at Will Creek. At these places there are devoted workers who will now sadly miss the visits and co-operation of their leader. Hundreds and hundreds of young people have been reached. They are gathered into the splendid organization of Christian Endeavor with all its departments, and under the wise and efficient leadership of their teachers and other workers are developing into leaders and Red Bird Settlement School been. On a piece of land given by Mr. Dill Ashen situated in a beautiful, quiet, restful spot at the junction of two streams, a splendid hospital building was erected. In a recent letter to the writer of this article Mr. DeWall expressed his great joy, closing with these words: "I wish you might have seen the beautiful hospital today as it was dedicated to the Lord and his suffering ones, and heard the wonderful speeches and warm congratulations from our friends who made the difficult trip in order to be with us on this happy occasion. It has been to me the crowning joy of my life and service in this community." How thank January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 19 ful we are that he had this great joy. In the early morning of October 24th, as the day -,vas breaking over the hills, his body was brought to Pineville for the memorial services, held in the Christian Church. The Masonic fraternity and the Kiwanis friends met the little train which brought it the last eight miles of the way from the mining camp nearest Red Bird. Reverently and sadly -the service was held and many were the sincere and heart-felt tributes paid to this beloved leader. It was the intention of Mrs. DeWall and Mr. William DeWall, a brother, to take the The Hospital at Red Bird j)recious body back to Iowa to the aged mother, but so great was the, desire of his mountain friends to carry it back to Red Bird and lay that which had been the abiding place of his great soul among his own dearly loved hills, that once more the break of day saw the return of the little procession, and loving hands gratefully and gladly carried their "Shepherd of Red Bird" back to Beverly. We will share with you the closing scene. A burial spot had been chosen just above the shining waters of Red Bird Creek. Although very desirable, it seemed almost inaccessible, as there was no path by which the funeral procession could pass. All night long willing hands prepared the grave, hewn out of solid rock. By daylight that labor of love was completed, and gathered on the front porch of the little bungalow was a large number of newly arrived friends who had come to help make a road to the grave. This necessitated the removal of huge boulders, the cutting of the underbrush, and the making of a wall so that there would be no danger of a landslide. Under the efficient leadership of Mr. William DeWall, and with the willing hands of these mountain men all this was accomplished in a few hours. When one realizes that there are no telephones, no ways of communication in this section except by mule team, lonely horsemen, or by walking and fording streams, it seems almost miraculous that in so short a time these folks had come from away back in the hills, traveling all through the darkness of the night, carrying the tin lantern to show them the way. Their great love made them do it. It was all they had to offer and really the greatest gift of all. The beautiful service was held there, and the body of the Shepherd of Red Bird was committed to its last resting place. The grave en the hillside will have its silent influence. As we saw the procession of fine looking students, pausing before the bier of their great friend and teacher, and recalled to memory the exceptional character of the manly-looking, clear-eyed young men from Red Bird School, we thanked God that the banner upheld so courageously and unfalteringly by their leader would yet be carried to ultimate and triumphant victory by these young "soldiers of the cross." The memory of this great Christian leader, with his marvelous faith, wonderful personality and loving heart, interested in even the least and most helpless lambs of this fold, will never grow dim, but its luster grow brighter in the coming years. The aim of all intellectual training for the mass of people Is to cultivate common sense and to qualify them for forming a sound, practical judgment of circumstances by which they're surrounded. Whatever in the intellectual department can be superadded to this is simply ornamental. -John Stuart Mill. Page 20 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 COAL CAMPS AND CHARACTER By E. V. TADLOCK SacperinteTtdent of Mom(tain Work, Presbyterian Church, U. S. Due to the industrial developments in the past two decades a human phenomenon of vast proportions and consequences has been in process throughout large mountain areas. The character of these developments vary with the location, topography, and natural resources of the sections. They range from small coal mines of precarious existence to the giant operations of Harlan and Letcher counties in Kentucky and the allied by-product industries of the Solvay process and steel mills such as those at Ashland and Birmingham. They include widespread timber developments, great tanneries in West Virginia and North Carolina, pulp and paper mills in Virginia, furniture factories and textile mills of North Carolina, rayon industries in Tennessee, great centers of diversified industries such as Kingsport, and almost everywhere increasingly that greatest of all, the tourist industry. I am asked to write of the effects of these developments upon the mountains from the sociological angle. This would include a characterization of conditions in the family, social, educational and religious life of the people, before and after, and the casting of a balance that would determine the profits and the losses incurred. Obviously the wide range in variety and distribution of these industries makes this an undertaking the adequate carrying out of which would require the seasoned observations of numerous experts and volumes to contain them. No blanket portrayal can cover so many cases. In the first place these industries come into communities of almost every degree of development. In the second, resulting evolution is affected by the topography of the section. The home, school, social, and religious life in a narrow mountain ravine cannot be other than meager compared with that of a broad valley or plateau section where roads can be built and access had to modern advantages. In the third place, the character of the industry itself will largely determine the social and cultural conditions it creates. In the fourth, the attitude of the employer toward the employe is a potential determinant ranging from the embattled enmity of some of the West Virginia coal fields to those fortunate communities where the happiness of the employee is considered a concomitant of quantity production. A fifth factor is the consistent prosperity and permanence of the industry. For instance, the demoralized state of the coal industry over a period of years profoundly affects the life of the people engaged in it; while lumber industries, dependent upon timber supply, are temporary in duration as in influence. The most then that can be accomplished in an article of this character is to indicate some of the results that will be found to a greater or less degree in every industrialized mountain community. The writer's portrayal will of necessity have the slant of those sections with which he is most familiar-the coal fields of Kentucky and West Virginia. One must know the community as it was. There was uniform but usually self-respecting poverty; no social caste, no roads, poor schools, precarious livelihood, business upon a barter basis, abounding leisure, sincere hospitality, intense individualism, contentment with things as they were. Advance agents slipped in and surreptitiously secured mineral rights, building rights and factory sites. Building operations began, creating demand for labor, teams, produce, etc. Wages of common labor quadrupled, team hire advanced from four to eight and ten dollars a day. The stripling from "back of beyond" went home at the end of the month with more cash than his father had ever seen in the January, 1929 MOUNTAIN Lire AND WORE Page 21 course of a year. The leaven of change was at work. The voice of the phonograph was heard in the land. Stores that carried only the bare necessities imported "store clothes", manufactured furniture, canned goods, notions, etc. "Things are sure changing", said the merchant. His eye followed a young couple driving away in a wagon. "I ,just sold them that furniture-a hundred dollars worth of it. They are going to housekeeping. When I went to ' housekeeping the neighbors came and helped me to build a one-room log house. For a bed we bored holes in the wall, drove sharpened poles into the holes and supported the ends on forked sticks. The women helped my wife make a shuck tick." The immediate results of this new-found prosperity reach out in many and unsuspected directions. It is literally true that many of the people have more money than they know what to do with. Instead of applying it to im prove permanently their condition, many ,quander it upon things that are superficial and unprofitable, high priced things to eat, gaudy things to wear, picture shows, punch boards, etc. It is no uncommon sight to see a miner's automobile, bigger almost than the house he lives in, rusting out with no garage to shelter it. The new scale of living con sumes their wages as fast as they earn them. The introduction of the script system in many industries induces hand-to-mouth living that finds people without cash or savings when pay day rolls around. The appeal of this new prosperity is wide spread. The rural families from far and near move from their farms into camps and towns. This is a radical change and produces radical character effects. Upon the farm they were upon their own resources, compelled to use in telligence in planning days and months ahead. 46 They were resourceful in the utilization of what they had, and were of necessity more or less provident. Above all, they were inde pendent, and the social e-iuals cf all the people with whom they came in Ã‚Â°ontaet. When they -hove into the mining town their activitiies ,,re restricted in range, oftentimes to a simple operation that is easily mastered and teat makes little or no call upon intellect and ingenuity. They rise and work to a factory whistle. They have absolutely no responsibility, no property interest, no sense of belonging, little to evoke a community spirit of pride and co-operation. They are prone to live out of tin cans and upon an expensive and not very well balanced ration. They find themselves projected into a social caste system, with themselves far down in the scale. Too often there is lack of sympathy, or even hostility, toward the executive and clerical staff, who live in what is sometimes known as "the lot." In some industries, notably the mining, they easily become drifters. Without local ties or interests, they move with impunity, following the lure of more favorable remuneration, of better living and working conditions, until moving becomes a habit. "Rolling stones gather no moss." The influx of people into the industrial centers has its reflex influence upon the communities from which they come. In many rural communities the population is thus greatly depleted. The people who move out are apt to be among the best, correspondingly increasing the influence of the less worthwhile and less law abiding citizens, to the detriment of church, school and community life. Oftentimes the men and older boys of the community go to the industrial centers to work, leaving the women and children at home, returning to assist in making the crops, but spending the remainder of the year in industrial work. This means broken family relationships and is in every way far from ideal. The writer is acquainted with communities that have been depleted of their ambitious young people. The older people remain at home to struggle on under conditions of increasing difficulty and with less efficient agricultural and community activities. The removal of the rural people to industrial centers has its effect upon religious and social life. In the home community there were the characteristic social contacts-neighborhood and family gatherings of different kinds. There was also the church. Probably few were members, but they attended the monthly Page 22 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 services and owned allegiance to the denomination. They expected some time to ally themselves with the church, in the Lord's own time. Though they may not have belonged to the church, the church belonged to them, and it had a place and influence in their lives. In the industrial center they find that the church is allied in some way with the industrial institution. The pastor is not of their choosing or way of doing. The presence of the better dressed officials and their families make them not at home and may evoke a spirit of real hostility toward the church as an institution. Too often parents do not attend and do not encourage the children to do so, with the result that they may belong to the unchurched masses. In many instances, however, there are distinctive advantages accruing to the industrial worker, if he avails himself of them. Many of the employers are sincerely interested in the welfare and happiness of their employes, and employ experts in education, religion, recreation, and health to enlist the interest of the employes in well wrought out programs in those several fields. In such instances the opportunities for self-improvement are there for those who wish to avail themselves of them. In the matter of schools especially is the improvement marked. Many industries erect splendid school buildings, and in co-operation with public school authorities, maintain excellent grade and high schools. Also the increase of wealth has made possible longer school terms, and better equipped and salaried teachers for outlying rural sections. The increased demand for high school education is surprising. One Kentucky county that had no high school sixteen years ago now has not less than five hundred students enrolled. This county sends scores of boys and girls out to normal schools and colleges. The religious situation is also improving. The native church was non-progressive, without activities other than the monthly preaching service. Its preachers were usually uneducated. Their preaching neglected ethics for the emphasis of doctrine, which they failed to relate to life. There were no programs for i eaching and training the youths. Admission to the church was by experience, rather than by voluntary acceptance of Christ and the responsibilities of discipleship. Consequently the ratio of membership to population was surprisingly small. Few people entered the church under middle age. But every new industry has brought in its nucleus of Christian people. The various church boards have sent in pastors and evangelists. Many church and independent schools already in the sections, and others more recently established, have thrived wonderfully, and most of them are centers of religious progress. Almost everywhere the church activities are being stressed -not always wisely, but stressed. In the larger centers splendidly equipped buildings have been erected, and modern church programs are being carried on under efficient pastoral leadership. Almost every camp has church or churches, with Sunday schools and young people's societies accessible. From one church in a mining section five Sunday school are carried on, and the pastor speaks in chapel exercises of four schools weekly. One denomination holds an annual young peoples' conference for training in leadership. This is attended by upward of one hundred young people from five or six counties. The faculty is composed of experts in their respective lines. Some of the companies co-operate with employes in maintaining community churches, to the exclusion of denominational intrusion. These experiments are most interesting and seem to be the only practical way of uniting the religious resources of such communities. The writer would not create the impression that the millennium has come to the industrialized mountains. Far from it. But the problems are being attacked and progress is being made. The vast majority of the people remain to be brought under the influence of the gospel, and into participation in the program of the church. It is a pity that so frequently denominational activities are marred by unseemly rivalries and duplication. As the mountains everywhere are sur rounded and separated from the lowlands h, regions of foot hills, whose population belongs January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 23 to and possesses the virtues of neither section, so every industrial community is fringed about by a no-man's-land. In this border region lives a shiftless, nondescript class, in conditions of abject squalor. Subsisting upon vice, and excluded by police authorities from other than devious contact with the community, these unfortunate people constitute a distinct problem. Nowhere do greater political abuses occur than in some of the industrialized sections. Without required registration of voters, with tremendous floating populations, with predatory politicians preying upon corporate interests and those interests "fighting the devil with fire," election scandals of the first magnitude not infrequently occur. With the tremendous multiplication of inustries, some of them upon gigantic scale, and from alien sections and nations, it becomes the urgent duty of the several states to provide every possible safeguard against the exploitation of their populations, especially of the children. Only as church and state move hand in hand will industrialization become an unqualified blessing. PROGRESSIVE PEASANTRY (Continued from. Page 16) for higher -avages the focus of their mental activity, as had the industrial "proletariat," their leading thought and ultimate goal was independent farming. But as soon as the opening up of the way to an independent economic existence became the all-overshadowing aim of the new Husmandorganization, the land-question at once leaped to the front. The landless workers all over Europe had tried to solve the land-question by emigration to America. And the effect of this access to free land of America can hardly be overestimated. It raised the head of the workers all over the world. But naturally emigration cannot be a real solution. It is at home that the New World must be created. To the smallholders of Denmark, setting out towards this goal, the ideas of your great countryman, Henry George, came as a natural development and broadening of their own ideas and aspirations. These ideas became, so to speak, the standard carried in front of the ranks. Thus again Denmark benefited by adopting and adapting ideas of universal stamp. The idea of Free Trade, as elucidated by George, came natural not only to the mind of the Husmand but to the whole host of peasantfarmers. In contradistinction to the protectionist squire who dreamt of the corn-laws of the Bismarckian type, their ideas centered about the world-market, in which they were quickly working their way to the front. But also that principle of taxation advocated by Henry George, that not the diligence and activity of the man, but the value of his land, is the natural gauge of his dues to the community, appealed to him. And naturally it was the smallholder to whom the central truth of the equal right to land appealed most strongly. It is the firmness and strength behind these claims of his that have been so far decisive for the political advance scored in our modern landlegislation and land-values taxation. The cause of economic emancipation, the great central problem of the world today, is not won by the leaders and master-minds of the time alone. Every Husmand and his wife, on their ten or fifteen-acre plot of land, who by their life and daily work make it evident to their next-door neighbor, and to the world, that not only can the small man stand on his own feet and lead an independent life, but that he can move on, make progress, take his place in the vanguardthese are the nameless soldiers in the army of emancipation. For on the longing-after and working-for, economic independence, based on self-help, which in the bosom of the small man naturally is deeply associated with the idea of co-operation and a profound feeling for the equal rights o f cell, on those more than anything else depends the future of the people. Those fundamental democratic ideas were the dynamic force that in America united "proletarians of all countries" for the grand task of making the desert blossom like a rose Page 24 MOUNTAIN L1FE AND WORK January, 1929 garden. From this great feat of independent labor naturally sprung in the mind of Henry George that deeper and fuller conception of economic freedom which pulsates through all his works. This dynamic force also is behind what little progress towards economic emancipation we have in Denmark, as I have tried to outline to you. And whenever its effect is felt in the life of a people, vistas are opened to new horizons nearer to that true humanity for which we are longing. THE PLIGHT OF THE SMALL FARMER (Continued from page thirteen) nucleus of every attractive rural community. In this country the school may do, and in a good many cases is already doing, what the church formerly did over there. Constructive rural statesmanship must build on this fact as its corner stone. One of the most striking things about our modern civilization is the stupendous growth of endowments. Endowments for schools, libraries, hospitals, even theatres, are growing by leaps and bounds. It is literally true that this generation is living, not on its own earnings, but, in increasing degree, upon the earnings of the past accumulated in endowments. Many of the best things of life come to us through no effort of our own, but through the efforts of those whose service is paid for out of endowments. But, and this is of the greatest possible significance, thus far, most of these endowments are concentrated in cities and serve only city folk. Is it any wonder so many find city life more attractive than country life? The country )nan has to pay for what he gets. For iuany of the best and most expensive things of life, the city nzan does not have to pay at all. They are provided for him out of endowed f,laid". This is, therefore, an occasion of rare interest. It may be the beginning of a new era in American country life. This building, devoted to the service of rural people, is provided by the generosity of one whose daily life is given in the service of city people, but who is also aware of the acute needs of rural people. Why should this not be the beginning of a cumulative movement, on the part of American philanthropists, to turn a part of their beneficence toward the improvement of rural life? There is in every rural county in this land of ours, an acute need of a hospital, with a trained staff, to minister to rural people. There is a need for a thousand rural libraries to provide an abundance of good books for rural people. This can be done on a meager sale by local support, but it should be done on a generous scale if the farmer and his family are to enjoy privileges at all comparable to those enjoyed, free of cost, by most city people. There is also a need of hundreds of millions of endowment to help support rural schools, if we are ever to be able to look the world in the face and say that no country child is hereafter to be handicapped by poor schools. Perhaps one reason why philanthropists have not endowed these supports to the higher life in the country is that there is a lack of organizations in the country to handle such endowments. The city is full of organizations -the city is organization. If this is the reason why such beneficent agencies are not provided in the country, then it is time that we began organizing country life for something else than co-operative marketing, which is good so far is it goes, but which does not go far enough. Why should not a movement start here and now-in this building, on this day-first, for a national movement for improved country schools, and a national public health service which shall put hospitals and clinics within reach of every rural dweller; second, for attracting to the service of rural people some of that widening stream of endowments now going mainly to city people. Education is not compatible with extreme poverty. It is impossible efectually to teach an indigent population. It is difficult to make those feel the value of comfort who have never enjoyed it, or those appreciate the wretchedness of a precarious subsistence who have been made reckless by always living from hand to mouth. -John Stuart Mill. January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 25 INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE SOUTHERN MOUNTAINS By T. Russ HILL, Middlesboro, Ky. If you have been living in the mountains for the past twenty years, then you know what has been taking place. If you have not lived there, you cannot know the changes that have come. Periodical visits, close study of statistical tables prepared by various agencies in their given line of work, and the reading of articles like this one-all these will only serve to aid you in arriving at a conclusion of your own. The opinion may be fairly accurate, but moi a probably it will be far from the truth, for even we who have stood here beside the changes for the past twenty years can scarcely believe what has taken place. We have watched the steel as it has crawled up these valleys, slowly tapping every vein of production that it could reach, until the expenditures for railway development on one mountain division of one of our larger railroads have reached beyond the five million mark. Along these outlets, and financed both by local and foreign capital, gigantic mines have sprung up, the largest of which is now running one hundred and fifty cars of coal per day. Pefore a single car of coal was produced from this operation twenty-seven millions of dollars were spent. We can travel for hours through the steel mills without retracing our steps, and the countryside never rests from their continual screeching. Silk mills, cotton mills, rayon mills, furniture factories, chemical plants, fertilizer works, and factories producing every conceivable contrivance now dot the hills of the southeast, and the rush is only starting. The power development has kept pace with the industrial, one plant after another going up to drive the motors of the mines and the engines of industrial plants. In one year one public utilities company spent over six million dollars in three mountain counties, and strange to say not one of these plants is operated by water power; all of them are driven by steam manufactured from the coal that lies at their doors. Telephone and telegraph lines have struggled through the mountain thickets and over the ridges and ranges, binding isolated communities into one family. People that have long been almost at each other's door, yet far away because of impassable mountains, are now linked into one city. Paved roads have found their way snake-like up valleys, over mountains, around ledges, relegating to the scrap heap the ox cart and the springless wagon and substituting the modern methods of motor travel. The tide is swinging this way. With this virgin field beckoning, the industrial trend is southward and largely to this Appalachian section which offers unrestricted territory, abundant, untroublesome, and c h e a p labor, natural or manufactured power at low cost, possibilities for living conditions of the highest order, natural resources that are unlimited, and a type of people which builds st_ong enterprises and is ever loyal. So the din continues and the dust arises from all this mad rush of development and advancement. The highway of progress runs right before the door of the mountain cabin. The inmates are standing in that door with wide eyes and gaping mouths. It would appear that they are hopelessly beaten. Untrained and without a single guide, they have been thrown suddenly into the swift stream of progress. Their oxcart methods are out of date; the patch of corn on the mountain side will no longer suffice for the family with its new wants. Cigar-box bookkeeping will not save them from the keen minds that are now plying their trades among them; the "taken-for-granted" titles to their lanes will no longer suffice. The dingy cabin with one window and one door begins to look antiquated; homespun and calico appear cheap when compared to the riot of modern things in show windows. The log school house and the leaning church seem disgraceful. The shouting and wildly gesticulating mountain preacher begins to weary some of those who have at MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK tended the big church down in the settlements. The boys go bareheaded and use slickum on their hair, and the girls wear bobs and occasionally don knickers. So the procession goes, and while it might be amiss to lay all of this at the door of industrial development, we can only state truthfully that before the wheels of industry came, the mountain people were not aroused from their lethargy. Once moused they have rushed madly forward, and only those who have stood by and observed the transformation can have any idea of the effect of this industrial expansion upon the mountain people. We believe that they have ma;'e greater strides than have any group of people whose achievements are recorded in history. They have asked no quarter and no favors. They have even shunned the latterÃ‚Â°, and to this day they draw back from the mm who would come to them with pitying words and fawning hands. All they have asked is an opportunity to make their way; someone to show them how and give the words of encouragement. They know the suffering and travail necessary for even a livelihood, and are not overcome by seemingly impassable barriers. A t the same time we cannot say that this new (".ay has produced only beneficial results, for that is a debatable question. Let us attempt to evaluate these results from an economic, a ;social, an educational, and a religious point of view. Economically, the present mountain people are far ahead of any preceding generation. This statement is made as a result of a study of their aggregate wealth and not in any attempt to measure them individually. To be sure, many of them have been like the Indians of old who sold their choicest holdings for a string of beads. Others, unable to assimilate, for stable development, this newly acquired earning power, have become rash spenders. Even now, the mountain people will demand the best of everything, provided they have the means to meet that demand. They ride in motor cars, have "talking machines" and player pianos in their homes, and install electrical appliances wherever they are in reach of the power line. Rarely will they go beyond their means but the family that looks very far to the January, 1929 future is the exception. To be sure, many of them cannot look beyond the demands of the day, so abject is their poverty. The centers of activity, however, have drawn the boys and girls as well as the parents from the back sections, and it is far from uncommon to find these boys and girls contributing the larger portion of the family upkeep. To a large extent this is a godsend, for it has lifted a heartbreaking strain from the backs of parents on barren hills. It is difficult to determine the dividing line between the native who stays in the back sections and the one who rushes to the scenes of activity. Nevertheless, it is there, and the great task of the future lies not primarily in taking care of those who have been pitched forward onto the state of activity, but in reaching those behind the scenes who refuse to come out of their hiding. Away from the centers the life remains much the same, but the income is often increased. The small truck gardens produce much that has a ready market in the industrial centers. The mountaineer of the back country has learned to work for a season in the mines or factory and then take his savings and improve his farm. He has caught the art of producing something to meet the demands of the newcomers; and, whether it is butter and eggs, chickens and hogs, or rustic benches and baskets, he is busy plying his trade and improving his condition. It is not absurd to imagine that those of the back sections will ultimately surpass the others in economic development. Though they are taking the crumbs, so to speak, from the tables of their more fortunate brothers, they are likewise conserving those crumbs while their kinsmen ,are squandering far greater advantages in riotous living. The mountains are still poor when compared to other districts, but when viewed in the light of their condition of a decade ago they are rich. Women still labor like beasts in the fields and over the furrow, the children struggle on like cattle in many instancesa. It is also true that much of the development that has taken place in the mountains has enriched the holders of bonds in the outside country, but there are hundreds right here among us who are independent today because those outsiders January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 2'l have come in and made a market for their pioducts and labor. The coming of industries has keen a godsend to the mountains; with all t'neir prol;lems, these industries are making possible that existence without which there can he no higher development. Socially, we cannot be so sure of ourselves, or tread so fearlessly. The mountain people have always been a sociable and hospitable people. You can ride up to almost any cabin, throw the reins over the fence, and walk right in, no matter whether you ever saw the people before or not. You may be sure that your welcome will be genuine. If they have but one be-1, you will get that. Their common word of parting is, "You all come over," and they mean it. The industrial development has changed flzeir habits of hospitality less on the whole, than it has affected any other phase of their life; if anything, it has intensified this spirit. The mountain trains are full of people all the while, and now that busses have come, they are running over. No one knows where folks are going, but they are simply travelling and visiting one another. Kinsmen that formerly saw eaeh other only on very rare occasions, and then after long and tedious journey, now run over to see each other weekly. The people in the older industrial sections of the country may imagine that they are in the social whirl, but they have no conception of the continual round of activities that characterize the mountain sections of our country. Perhaps the barn dance has disappeared and molasses making is no longer a social function, but the mountain people are keeping up their social registers just the same. They have caught on to church weddings and "dress-up parties" and they have them frequently. Though they may break a few rules of etiquette, both as to appointments and behavior, nevertheless, they are quick to sense the fine thing to do and just as eager to attempt to carry it out. They are very zealous of having even their funerals carried out to the letter, and they know what that letter is. We shall not attempt to discuss morals in this article and we are cognizant of the decadence here in our own section in many instances but we have no hesitancy in saying that the social sect of the mountains are far superior to others in their standard of morals; the eyes of the youths of the mountains can look at you straighter than those of any other place we have ever known. We are not disturbed about them along that line. Their city cousins have taught them much and it is our hope that they in turn may be able to teach those city cousins. Education has always been the greatest problem of the mountains, and it still is. This is true not only because of the undevelopment of the territory, but also because of the eagerness of the people to know. When a man carries a coop of chickens eleven miles and sells them to get a few pennies to buy school books for his children, he is seeking learning. When a widow drives her only cow to town and sells it to pay the tuition of her boy in a mountain college, she is thirsting for a chance for her boy. When a boy digs in the fields during his out-of-school hours of the day and studies long into the night to make up for lost time, he is testifying to the mountains' greatest problem. So many that are starving for learning have so little with which to purchase it. Probably any observation that we should make on education in the light of the industrial development would be questioned by the leaders of education in our mountains. Yet we dare to make this observation strictly from the viewpoint of a layman who is travelling in the ranks: Education has suffered because of our industrial development. In the first place, the parents of the mountain boy or girl have come in contact with the mills and mines that make it possible for that child to earn more than they have ever earned in a similar period. Many of them are therefore suggesting the shorter cut to their children. And if they do not actually do this, they permit themselves to be overridden by the demand of their children for an opportunity to get s-Larted in business. These difficulties, however, have been wonderfully offset by the accessibility of the institutions to the people and by the higher types of workers that have been provided for the back sections. While the hum of the wheels cannot be given entire credit for this, many a chap has been loosed to education institutions who Page 28 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 would formerly have had to slave on a barren farm to help support the family. And they likewise brought in families containing members who wanted to help and who have marvelously aided in the advancement of the mountain people. Education, however, still remains our greatest problem. The future of the mountains from a material and industrial standpoint is assured; they will go forward within the next twenty years at a pace beyond the wildest dreams. The real `work of us who care is whether or not we shall be able to keep the education of our people abreast of this development. At the present moment we are not keeping pace, but schools are going in everywhere and are beginning to bear fruit. Men of vision are accepting the challenge, and we feel that these are going to give the needed impetus to bring Vie mountains forward educationally to within at least striking distance of the other phases of her development. The mountain people are harder to assimilate religiously than in any other phase of their d e v elopment. There is more religion "to the square inch" in the mountains than in any other spot in the United States; the mountain people feel their faith deeper than do any other people we have come in contact with. But the march of industry is playing havoc with a great many deep-rooted ideas. Suspicions are most easily aroused where religious tenets are concerned; the mountain people are not deeply impressed with the modern preacher who has come their way but are giving him plenty of room to step around while they look him over. Those who have caught the spirit of progress call themselves missionary in their beliefs, and those who still hold to the antiquated methods are hardshell or antimissionary, and the strife is keen between the two. Any associational meeting where a question touching the fundamentals of either of these faiths is to be discussed will draw crowds and often necessitate the calling out of the militia before the meeting is closed. Many still cling to the holiness faith, and while crowds of them have forsaken this for some of the modern faiths, the process is slow. At the same time, the industrial development has made a great contribution toward relieving this condition. One company after an other has erected a modern church on its property and has then secured a well-trained minister for this church. With modern methods, he has led the people on in the establishment of Sunday School and training departments, and in many cases these churches have become self-supporting within a period of a few years. Gradually their workers have filtered out into other places and have taken their training with them. The old leaders and preachers have noticed the changes and have occasionally forsaken their usual paths for the new way. We have seen old preachers lay aside their wild i avings and preach as clear-cut and sensible sermons as we ever heard. We have also seen professional shouters and mourner's-bench occupants become strong cogs in an organized church. Only yesterday one of these came into the office and asked for a donation to buy their preacher a Ford car. Five years ago that same fellow thought that a preacher ought not to be paid one cent, and that an automobile was a machine of the devil. When he went out, we exclaimed, "Truly the Lord is working wonders among His people!" Once aroused these people will respond, and the religious worker can get more encouragement and co-operation in the mountains than can be found any other place It has been our privilege to observe the building of a great men's Sunday School class in one mountain town. This class started eight years ago with twenty-two men. Today it has an average attendance of around five hundred men per Sunday and dispenses through the treasury over six thousand dollars per year, not to mention special gifts. On one Sunday it had over nine thousand men in its class. (A special meeting addressed by the governor of the State.) The fact that this happened in a city of twelve thousand will give you an idea of the religious possibilities in the mountains. If we can keep the captains of industry in the mountains making an honest effort to give the mountain people the proper religious training and teaching, the mountains will ultimately furnish the leaven that will fill America. If you want to know the people here and fully understand their reactions to the hum of industry that is resounding through their hills, you will have to live here for more than a season. If you come, you will find that while, like January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 29 the color of the hills that surround them, these people are continually changing, they are always on the up grade. JUST CHANGE OR PROGRESS? (Continued from page two) "Does he think we gits a ree-lax outen hoein' cawn and choppin' cotton, er raisin' leetle things like chickens and calves jist ter kill 'em er sell 'em? The onliest ree-lax I kin git on a farm is ter kill a rattler in my sang patch." . "Thet thar machinery jist kills thousands and thousands jist runnin' over folks, and in mines and factories. And the folks as owns 'em is doublin' and thriblin' and makin' some folks rich and some folks pore, and nobody keers ! I wuz in civileyezation a whole yar onct, and I lef' my hand thar twell the Resurrection, whin please Gawd I'll hev hit agin ! Fur the Lord is comin' in His power sooner'n you know!" I have never seen as bad housing and overnrowding in city slums as in hastily construct-d dormitories and huts around developments in rural sections. On the other hand we have the model industrial communities with beautiful homes, parks and schools. One gigantic concern which opened Lip in the south stated that it could build beautiful homes and beautiful factories and yet make enough money to pay high on their investment in the few years which they expect to have before the workers wake up and demand better wages and standards. The eye of the public is more ready to notice evils in cities than in far off mills and mines. Most of the legislature in the mountain states are made up of representatives whose interests are predominantly agriculture. Some manufacturing interests have preferred to keep them so in order to prevent attention centering on taxation. One of the biggest problems of the south, especially the highland section, is to get a distribution of taxes which will keep more of the wealth created by the south in the south. Taxes that can be used for schools are a primary need. ' recent study made by the National Educa.ion Association shows that the mountain states and counties have much less wealth per school child than other states. If the women in the churches and women's clubs would put drive behind studying and working for needed legislation to protect the worker, they could avoid many of the mistakes of older industrial communities. It is possible with the constant technical improvements that new industries in this section may jump over the steam age to an electrical age. This may bring a lightening of labor for the individual or it may bring such a mechanization that the worker will feel that he is just a bolt in the machine. Even the fierce individualism of the mountaineer breaks down under such conditions and we get groups of workers helpless to regulate their own lives. With the decentralization trend there seems to come a centralization of control. We find large companies in chain system managing the industries from afar off. Every day the newspaper brings word of new mergers. Like the decentralization trend, centralization is both good and bad in its potentialities. The dehumanizing effect of absentee landlordism cannot be denied. The owners responsible for conditions are often so far away that the local "super" can have alibis for abuses which would not otherwise be sanctioned. The government coal report shows that the policy of the management and that of the local superiten~ent are often conflicting. This section needs human and mechanical engineers, not rigid methodicians, but people able to adapt the best findings, psychological, sociological, and economic, to these complex problems. The final test as to whether any plan for improvement has the right to survive should be something like one used by Jane Addams, "Will it bring into the life of the average man and woman more self-respect than they had before?" Across the new capital of Nebraska is written in massive letters "The salvation of the state is the watchfulness of its citizens." So we might say of the southern highlands, a new kind of salvation may come to the section if its citizens are watchful before it is too late. Eleanor Copenhaver, National Young Woman's Christian Ass'n. Page 30 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 "UP CYARR' By MAY B. SMITH The Opportunity School has for four years had its place in Eerea's program. During the time from the re-opening of school after the Chz istmas holidays to the close of the first half-year, a program carefully planned to give inspiration and enlightenment has been offered to such group as was able to gather for this three weeks' period. There has been no educational requirements for admission, no study equi z ement during the course, no academic c- -edit for work done. The method largely used l:y the teachers has been the informal talkthe "living word," as the Danes put it. Differivg in technique from the regular schools on the campus, the Opportunity School is yet no radical departure from Berea's other work. It is an adaptation, to help carry out the purpose of shay ing her life with the people of the mountains. And while always seeing both weaknesses m the achievement and possibilities of improvement, the College has looked upon this piece of her work as a success. It has widened her reach. To those teachers who have woe ked in it and to those who have obseiwed it, it has undoubtedly been helpful in showing them their educational problem close at hand, stripped of academic "system." In the fall of 1927 came an outgrowth of the Opportunity School idea, entirely spontaneous, and unforeseen by at least most of those who had been concerned with the work. In the Opportunity School group the previous winter had been Mr. William Francis, from Carr Creek, a Kentucky community "six or seven miles up the creek" from the end of the auto road, farther than that from the railroad -about twenty-four hours from Berea. Carr Creek has for some years had its Community Center, which has maintained a school. To get a bit of inspiration before becoming a codir ector of the Center, Mr. Francis came to Perea. After three weeks of study and fellowship, his mind was set upon an "Opportunity School for Carr Creek" the following autumn. And Miss Humes, the other director of the Center, joined him in asking for a small group of Berea workers for a few days' stay. It was an eager group that set out for Carr Creek-eager, grateful, for the chance given them; fearful lest they might not measure up to it. Their program had been planned to present such aspects of knowledge and life as might widen horizons and create desires. There we- e five of them besides the director; their fields were the Bible, sociology, literature, singing and recreation, agriculture. They leached Carr Creek on a Thursday afternoon to begin that evening their three-day program. It had been raining at Carr; the creek had risen and in places the rough wagon road wee a flooded so that only by foot or horseback could people gather at the school. The night was dark and cold, and the rain continued. The prospects for an audience might have been considered poor. But for weeks, and with increased warmth as the time drew near, Miss Humes and Mr. Francis had talked "Opportunity School" up and down the creek and up its branches; they had posted announcements widely and had made personal visits. In order that the high drool students might attend uninterruptedly, that week's "schooling" had stopped Thursday afternoon, and their teachers had made them eager for the new kind of school. Enthusiasm had grown until, as someone said, they'd "need rain to thin the crowd." Certainly the crowd was "thinned," but more than seventy people came through the wretched weather of that Thursday night. The crowd "thickened," as the weather improved, until more than one hundred and seventy gathered on Sunday afternoon. And trough the sun shone, attendance at the program made life strenuous. At the home, families were up before daylight in order to do the farm chorE get breakfast over, prepare and pack the noo._ January, 1929 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 31 lunch to be eaten at the schoolhouse, and arrive there at half-past nine. When the afternoon session closed at halfpast three there was none too much time to go home, do evening work, have supper, and come back for the session at half-past seven. Old and young put in this long day, went their difficult way home after dark, and made the early start again next morning. Moreover, while both old and young welcomed the social noon hour and the release and self expression of the periods given to singing and games, yet so in earnest were they that the three "preaching services"' held on Sunday were not felt to be too much, and one afternoon, after a distinctly "stiff" lecture on race relations in their international bearing, people were saying; "We've got to hear more about this. Can't you give us ;,rother talk about it this evening?" :Then the finding of a free hour was impossible, t h e y ~)(Yreed to put the lecture at the hour assigned for games end a marshmallow roast, and forty people, some Those who were fortunate enough to make this visit by no means felt that the experience could be duplicated in any mountain commu nity. Carr Creek is a community in spirit as well as in name. There is a good school-the high school alone numbered forty in 1927-and much devoted and intelligent effort lies back of the group solidarity so ,evident on this oc casion. The level of intelligence at Carr Creek would not be equalled everywhere. But they who shared in the work of those full and happy days feel that the Opportunity School is a fruitful method of work. And despite the fact that it is a method costly to the college-for even though mountain communities entertain visiting groups and pay in part the travel ex penses, the college must suffer the with drawal f r o m regular work of those who make the journey-yet they feel it should continue. The possible fruits are various. Horizons are stretched, new ideas a r e introduced; and a deeper interest i n edu cation cre Where the Carr Creek Opportunity School Met a t e d. "You've of them high school students, chose the lecture instead of the fun and marshmallows From the first, so warm was the welcome, so attentive the listening, so ready the shar ing in songs and games and in the talk and questioning that went on after the lecture, that one can hardly say the interest increased. But acquaintance and friendship increased be tween the visitors and the community. Ideas had a chance to work, and associations gained meaning. At the close of the program on Sun day evening, when Mr. Francis suggested that those who wished might come to "shake hands with these friends from Berea," the whole audience circled about to say goodbye individ ally, and many to say with unmistakable gen uineness what the days had meant to them. left many a thought and dropped many a hint," was said after such a meeting in another community. Young people who have given up all thought of further education "catch fire" again and plan to go to school. The parents' attitude toward sending their children away to school changes-they have had a contact with those who are teaching and guiding their boys and girls. And not least, there is the effect upon the institution that shares, as her faculty come to a fuller realization of the fact that their campus is not a few acres in one county but is all the Southern Mountains; not only can they call the mountains to them, but they can go to the mountains. As to the way in which they shall go, the Opportunity School seems an open road. Page 32 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK January, 1929 William Hall. p7~=O-p7~=O 1. 0 - ver and o - ver the o - cean I'm sail - ing, Un - til I come to my na-tive side; A - say-ing, "If Pol - ly is a - live and I can find her, I'll make her my 00 lawful bride." 2. As I was walking up the street A few rain drops were fall - ing; My old true love I chanced to meet. WILLIAM HALL "William Hall" appears in various disguises in many localities in the mountains. This particular version went over the hills into North Carolina from Virginia. How it got to Virginia has not been discovered yet. It is undoubtedly English. The verses all fit, barring the usual approximations and adjustments, the tune for the first verse, except the second verse which is too wide- 7. ly different to fit at all. Perhaps a line has been lost in transit. 3, Good morning, good morning, my pretty fair one. Don't you think you could fancy me? Oh, no, my fancy's placed on a brisk young farmer, Who has lately crossed the sea. 5. He was young and he was handsome And he was comely tall He had black hair and he wore it curly He also wore a diamond ring. 4. Oh, describe him, oh pray describe him Oh describe him unto me For perhaps I saw him, perhaps I knew him As I have lately crossed the sea. 0, yes I saw him, Oh, yes I knew him And his name was William Hall. I saw a French cannon ball shot through him And to death I saw him fall. She screamed and she cried, "Alas, alas, what shall I do? For we had parted broken hearted And my poor heart will break in two." "Cheer up, cheer up! my pretty fair one From all description I'm the man. Nothing else to convince you of the matter I'll also show you the diamond ring." 8. 9. They joined their loving hands together And to church they did go. That loving couple they got married Whether their parents were willing or no. As sang by Mollie Wilcox, North Carolin