Chapter Two
“THEY KNEW MORE
THAN THEY OUGHTA”
Robert Shifflett:
Well, I never knew George Herr'n myself. He was a supposed wizard. I knew his sons, Jake Herr'n and Noah Herr'n. I knew their children and their grandchildren. But George Herr'n didn't live too far from where we lived in Greene County. We lived at the base of the mountain in Shiflett Hollow on the Simmon's Gap road after you cross the mountain. The legend I heard of George Herr'n begins with another man - an old Negro that used to live close to George Herr'n after the Civil War, Old Solomon. Whatever other name he had I never learned. So it was claimed that Old Solomon was -- well, the folks called him a witch. He was supposed to be a warlock or wizard -- he's a black man and he and George Herr'n had some difficulty somewhere along the line. Herr'n's cattle began to come up and he had noticed a chalk mark or sump'n across a path in his field that these cattle come in on from pasture, and he said as fast as his cattle come up, accordin' to the tale, they dropped dead right in the barnyard -- had four or five all died right there. And he said he searched the field and he found different symbols and things across these cow paths and he said he knew that Old Solomon had killed 'em. So George Herr'n, accordin' to the legend, knew he couldn't do anything with Old Man Solomon not havin' enough power to counteract it, and he decided to leave. He was gone for a long, long time and none of his family ever knew but he went to learn more about black magic. Where he went he knew of a man that was supposed to possess magic powers, that dealt in black magic. But anyway he came back a lot smarter man in magic than he left home.
The children was there when he came back. That night he made all the family go to bed. He dared anyone to even speak. In those days the family usually slept in one big room or some up in the attic, you know. The houses built different -- old timey houses. And they built up a log fire in the fireplace. Fireplaces and chimneys were huge in those days. And he sat down in a chair in front of the fire and he drew symbols all around on the floor. Said he sat there till midnight watchin' the clock and said at midnight a black cat come down the chimney through that fire and landed out in the floor towards these symbols. He kicked it back into the fire and stomped it into the fire but it got away and went back up the chimney. And next mornin' some of Solomon's relatives or his family came to borrow and they kept comin' to borrow and Herr'n dared his family to loan 'em anything. The last thing they come after was a needle full of thread and they were refused. And the next mornin' they said, accordin' to legend, Old Solomon was burnt to death. So that's taken with a grain of salt but most people in those days believed it and they said Old Man Solomon was suddenly burned up. They had a doctor and he died from it next mornin'. People that knew George Herr'n, I've heard 'em tell it.
Marybird McAllister:
Pap said he set up all night and Pap said George Herr'n kept settin' there lookin' in the fireplace bent over. He had the fire wrapped up. You've seen people wrap up fire? I don't know if you did but old timey people did. They'd wrap up fire if they didn't have no matches and Pap used to wrap the fire up ever' night, great big chunks. And he's settin' there over the fire. Pap, he's layin' there in a little trun'le bed, a little bitty trun'le bed. Said he was layin' there. Said George Herr'n thought was asleep but he said he never whimpered, never closed his eyes. He's a watchin' him like a hawk. And said first thing he knowed here come sump'n down the chimney, flop, flop, flop, flop like a big pheasant. You see, it takes two witches to kill another'n. This here Old Bob, Black Bob, they wanted to kill him. He's a witch. And him and Linkus, another white fella -- Linkus he played the fiddle; Pap knowed him; he was a witch -- and him and George Herr'n they turned that nigger to a chicken. Pap said that thing come right out on the floor big as a chicken, come down the chimney right in the fire flutterin'. Pap said it was flutterin' that very way. See, they'd done turned that man to be that chicken and George Herr'n was to kill him, and he did too. And if you lend 'em anything they git well. You don't lend 'em nothin', a witch, that-a-way, they'll die. So Pap said he seen him and he just took his foot and kicked that thing right back in the fire. Just fast as it'd jump out he'd kick it back in the fire. And said next mornin' here come a little colored child said her daddy was burnt up. Said he got burnt up that night and said he just was a livin' and wanted to borrow sumpin'. I fergit what it was. Pap said they come for three differ'nt things. George Herr'n wouldn't let 'em have a thing. And then he died.
Robert Shifflett:
This instance I know is so. My grandfather had a big store in Bacon Hollow -- old man Noah Morris, my mother's father. He didn't do much huntin' himself but ev'rybody had dogs, mostly coon dogs, in those days. A good coon dog was like now, a highly valuable piece of property. And so he had an old dog and his kids started callin' him Pups and that's all the name he ever got was Pups. So Grandfather didn't do any huntin' so his neighbors would come by there and borrow the dog, go huntin' with him. Or sometimes the dog would leave on his own and go somewhere and tree a coon, he was a great coon dog -- and one neighbor or another knew the dog's voice, you know, and knew how good he was. They'd always go get the coon. So the dog left one night and he didn't come back. Well, my grandfather didn't pay much attention to that. Thought maybe some of the neighbors had him huntin' with them and would finally bring him back. Well, they went into the sixth or seventh day when they all started lookin'. He inquired around. Nobody had him so the whole neighborhood was alarmed about the dog, you know, and all those mountaineers started searchin' for him. And on the ninth day someone told him, said, "Mr. Morris, it won't be so far across the mountains. Ride across the mountains and see George Herr'n. He may can tell you somethin' about the dog." Now my grandfather didn't know George Herr'n, he'd heard of him. Noah Morris was a brusque, high-tempered man anyhow -- he was a Civil War veteran. And he got mad. He said he didn't believe in no stuff like that. So finally they kept after him till they prevailed on him. Well, he said, there's nothing to lose by goin'. He said he'd do anything possible to find the dog. He wouldn't have taken a small fortune for the dog. So he saddled his horse up in the mornin' and he rode across the mountain. Now he'd never seen George Herr'n before as I know of. He wasn't afraid of him, and George Herr'n didn't know him. So when he rode up into the yard George Herr'n met him out there.
He says, "Hello, Mr. Morris."
My grandfather had a way of sayin' "Plague on it." "Plague on you. How you know my name?"
He says, "I know who you are and what you come for." Said, "You've had your trip for nothin'."
"Well plague on you, how'd you know what I came for? You never saw me before."
He said, "You got a lost dog. Been gone for nine days." But said, "Your dog's at home now."
"Well, plague on you, I know you're lyin' now." Said, "I just left home."
Said, "Well sir, Go back and see."
So he rode off in a huff. While my grandfather was over 'cross the mountain these searchers were still searchin' the mountain. And one passed by a big tree and he heard a sort of a whimperin' -- a low whine -- and he thought he'd investigate and he looked around the tree. There had been a hole in the bottom but it was full of punk. And he thought maybe animals was in there, maybe coons or possums in that hollow of the tree. He knew the tree was hollow. And he said he listened and he kept hearin' that whinin' and he began to pull all this rotten punk, we call it, out of this tree. And finally he seed the dog's hind leg and began to rake it out and finally got the dog out and it was Pups. So there was bones of a coon there too. What had happened, this dog bein' close on the coon, this coon went in this hole at the bottom which was a open hole at the time and went up in the tree. The dog went in after him and, tryin' to climb up the inside of the tree, all this punk fell behind and blocked the hole. So the dog went to back out he couldn't get out. There he was trapped in the tree and the coon got weak and his hold let go and he fell and the dog ate the coon to survive. So when my granddaddy rode back home that night the dog was stretched on the hearthstone. Now that is a true tale. Now how much George Herr'n knew, I don't know.
MarybirdMcAllister:
Mary Guy, a colored woman over the mountain where I come from, she wasn't no witch but she could tell fortunes for you. I know she could. Lem, my old man, and Charles and Jake all took a hick-hike [hitch-hike]. That 'as my two sons. I didn't know where they went. And me and Connie, that's my boy's wife, we went over to old Mary Guy. We didn't give her but fifty cent apiece, that 'uz just a dollar, to tell our fortunes. She told my fortune. And out there she told me, she says, "Y'all thinkin' they comin' back home -- they goin' further: they're further and further." They had. They went to Illinois. They'd run off and went to Illinois. Just halfway out there. They's in Indiana then. She said, "They'll be gone over two weeks. They ain't hurt no way. There ain't nothin' the matter with 'em." She picked the cards up and looked at 'em. She said, "There ain't nothin' the matter with 'em but they still a voyagin.'" Said, "You all ain't gonna see 'em back. They'll be gone over two weeks 'fore they come back." They was. Mary Guy could tell the truth but she couldn't lay no spells on you. I don't think she could.
There's a man over there got drownded and they looked up and down the riverside for him. They throwed big things out, you know, hookers to search the river. They searched on each side but hadn't none of 'em went out in the river. It was rainin'. Charles helped look for him, my boy. I said, "Y'all find that man?" Said, "No, we never found him." I said, "Why don't you go over and ask old Mary Guy? She might tell you about findin' him." And he took that man's boy -- it was his daddy -- and went down at Mary Guy, She said, "Y'all ain't went further enough down the river." She says, "You go a little further down the river and look right under a big rock." Says, "You'll see a big clift out in the water and you look under there and see if you don't find him under there. He's washed under there." He was. They went right back and done what she said and he's under there, washed under that rock.
Mervin Sandridge:
Yea. She was a witchcraft. She was a witchwoman. I think she was sort of a half mixed up. I just don't know whether she was full nigger from the way they told me she looked. I think she had some Indian in her. But I heard tell from the way she dressed and all, sort of like an Indian. I mean the things she wore on her head all the time, sump'n, we used to call 'em bonnets, and she had the part they used to turn down the neck, well, she always had her'n turned up the other way like the Indians wore their feathers, you know. And that's what made me think she had some Indian in her. But there didn't too many people believe in it, and I still don't believe it, that's all. I mean, when you see it with your own eyes.
The time that Mickey Berry Roach had the fight with the Keatons. I think he shot three or four of 'em. Anyway, he knowed he's gonna git some time so he went to this old Mary Guy. They first started out with a rock fight. There was two of 'em against seven or eight of 'em. But anyway, they started to rock fight. So we were livin' within sight of where they was havin' the rock fight, so finally my brother -- he was in with the Roach fella -- finally he hollered for the gun. So I took him the gun. So then my other brother, some way he got hold of a car. Roach he got in the car so they went up one road and shot two or three out of the car. Turned around and come back down the road and shot two or three out of the car. Turned around and come back down the road went up another road and caught a couple more and shot them. And so he was really in for it, you know. They got a warrant for him. Had the trial and ev'rybody had to lie a little bit, you know. I was just 10 or 12 years old but they were tellin' me what to tell, you know, who I give the gun to. I gave it to my brother, but they told me to tell I give it to Roach, see. Roach, he's gonna take ev'rything on hisself. So he went on to see old Mary Guy and she told him he's gonna git five years. So he had to give her I think ten dollars it was. She finally told him, says, "There ain't but one man gonna cause you to git your five years. Give me another five dollars and I'm gonna give you a little bottle of stuff and sometime durin' the day when they're havin' the trial, you go in the room where the jury sets and sprinkle this stuff around the chair then take the bottle and do away with it."
And I seen the little bottle. It was a little bitty thing about a inch high, a little square bottle and the stuff that was in it looked pink-lookin'. So he sprinkled it around in there that day. So real late that evenin' -- the trial went on all day -- they called his daddy up to testify. Well, naturally he was gonna tell what he seen. That was the thing for him to do. And he started out to tell that he seen the car when he just passed out in the witness chair. That's all he ever told. But Mary Guy told him, said, "The one that'll give you time, he ain't gonna tell what he's got to tell." Well, there didn't nobody know who it was, but he didn't finish tellin' what he had to tell, got twelve months.
Well, once my mother, she was down -- I think she was down five years. I think that she was right down in the bed for five years and just helpless, just layin' there. And they done ev'rything, had doctors, and finally my father carried her to the hospital and they couldn't find anything wrong with her -- she's just layin' there. And finally this nurse -- just this new nurse, had just come, was goin' to school, was a university student at Charlottesville and she was workin' in the hospital part time to make some money -- and she told mother, said, "Your trouble is somebody's laid a spell on you. There's a spell been laid on you," and says, "a woman done it." But said, "If a man had a done it, I could take it off of you. It weren't meant for you, it was meant for your husband", and said, "It was done by a egg. This woman got this man to lay a spell on you and she told him to do it with eggs, put a egg where your husband'd git a hold of it." What happened, Daddy got the egg out of the barn -- they'd put it in the barn and he got it out -- and some way he broke the egg against my mother passin' her in the door, but they never thought anything about it at the time. But after all this come up they remembered all that and it really did happen. And she told her said she was gonna try to do what she could do to take it off of her. But see, this woman done it and she was a woman so she said it was hard to do anything. But said if a man had a laid the spell on her, then she could just take it right off of you.
Roach went and got this Mary Guy wantin' her to lay a spell on my daddy -- I don't know for what, and he done it with the egg. And my daddy got the egg, see, and broke the egg 'gainst my mother and 'stead of the spell goin' on him, it went on her. And she was down five years. And this nurse, I reckon she undoubtedly took it off of her.
I can remember that as good as it been yesterday, the ev'nin' that this man, this Roach man, brought that egg and put it in the barn. His mother was a visitin' down at our house and that ev'nin' he didn't come no farther than the barn. The barn was down the main road from the house but you could see it, you know. And I can remember it just as good as it's been yesterday. He come out there and hollered and said, "Tell Mom to come on." And she looked out and said, "That's my boy." Said, "He rode the hoss down here for me to ride back." And she rode the hoss back. And that ev'nin' my father got the egg out and broke the egg the same ev'in' he got it, but didn't nobody think any thing about it then until after she had been in the hospital and this nurse had told her all this stuff. That's been, oh, 25 years ago, I reckon. About 1940. That happened before the trial. She had got up and was walkin' some maybe by then when that trial business come off. Never did see this Mary Guy though, no, I never did see her. Yea. She lived over near Elkton. On the other side of the mountain. She finally died. They used to talk about this kinda thing quite a bit. Used to hear a lot about people layin' spells on you and all that stuff which I never did believe in 'em. I still don't believe in it but that did happen. There's bound to be sump'n other to it.
The Roach family. Oh yea, they believed in it. And one of the women in their family was -- yea. The old woman -- this man's grandmother. Oh yea, she was a witch woman, I remember back this fella -- Breedon, he was rabbit huntin' one time and he said the dogs was runnin' sump'n other and he never could see anything. And they kept a runnin' and runnin'. He couldn't see nothin'. So finally he was two hundred yards I reckon from the house, but he could see this old woman, this old Roach woman -- she was the mother of the family -- standin' at the house. He didn't even shoot towards the house, so finally he just shot down through the field and dog quit runnin' and the old woman had her eye shot out. Well, she did have her eye out but I don't know how she got it. But anyway they claim that he shot her eye out but they didn't say anything much about it just said he shot her eye out. They understood it, you know. They knowed that she was a witch. I remember then on after that I was out on Sunday and Breeden had a big hoss -- they hadn't had the hoss too long -- that was in hoss and buggy days -- this here was a real fine hoss, prettiest hoss you ever seen. I remember we was all playin' -- was a big rock there and we'd all been playin' hard - to rest we got upon this rock, settin' there and this old woman was standin' in the door and the hoss was standin' underneath the shade tree -- it 'as in the summertime. All at once that hoss took out runnin' just as hard as she could run right up that road and just fell dead. The old woman she turned and went back in the house. I didn't know anything was goin' on, what was happenin'. But undoubtedly she done sump'n other to that hoss. This was that Roach woman, the one with her eye shot out. This family of Roach people, they really believed in it -- in this witch stuff. They lived over here on what we call Fox Mountain, and we lived on down about two miles below 'em -- place called Bluffton. It was four miles the nearest way to any highway or to this highway.
Louis Shiflett:
And course there was that woman people, lot of people, believed that she could milk a cow behind the door by milking a towel. Yea. Milk a towel behind the door and milk a man's cow. That was the goal and what was told -- and, well -- they thought she was a witch. I don't know whether she was. That was what was told. She would walk behind a door where there was a towel hanging and say she was gonna milk a towel and come out with a glass of milk. Claim that she could just milk the towel and milk the other man's cow. That's what they claimed. She was a fortune teller and I don't know as I heard any really particular things that she told, but said she's a witch. That's what was always said, that she was a witch. They could change, change their form. They claim it was witchcraft. That they could change in any form. Most change into the form of a cat. Well, in one case this woman had trouble, that she couldn't rest. And she went to some people. At that time there was one man I done forgot. He was a Hearn. George Hearn, I believe it was. So he told her a witch was riding her. Then the woman told her what she might do for to get blood out of this woman, out of this person, that she would come to herself, if they got the blood. And it was a sickle, I believe named some kind of sickle that was used in spinning and one side is perfectly just full of the likeness as a ice pick, just covered over. And he told her to put this on her, lay on her back, just put it right on over her stomach there and when the witch come she would jump right on her and that-a-way she would with this sickle, you know, cause to bring the blood. And they claim that she did and it tore a plug out of the cheeks of her rump. Out of the woman that was the witch. The woman what jumped her. In other words, if you could get blood out of the person riding you -- they claim they could turn theirselves into forms, but if you could anyway get blood out of them they'd turn back to the human which they was. So she laid on her back with this comb-like thing, with the teeth sticking up and when the witch jumped on her she appeared. She come to herself.
It's about like a curry comb or -- I had one of them here. I don't know where I'd found it at but just round where these people used these things with spinning wheels. My grandmother used to have a spinning wheel. Most everybody used to have them. It's for use in the spinning. I believe that'd cover just about the story.
Frankie Morris:
Well, I heard my daddy say there used to be one lived over on Broken Back yonder that used to be a witch. Said she knew more'n she oughta know, she could do more than she oughta do. And then I heard mamma say that one time Old Lady Herr'n come to her mother to borrow a milk pot and said that her mamma didn't have it to let her have and said she told the next neighbor that, "Well, that would be the dearest milk pot that she ever didn't lend when she got home." And so said 'fore that night the calf begin to run and bleat and said never did stop 'til it just fell dead. She got mad with her because she didn't lend her the milk pot. Mamma said she didn't know what she did but sump'n caused it. Said that's the way it happened, that they all thought she did sump'n.
Florence used to tell me about George Herr'n. She said that he knew more than he oughta know and she said that he'd go out in the mountains and git herbs and make all kind of medicines. She told me one time that -- naw, that was my mother-in-law told me that -- she said she had a uncle and he was about to leave his wife to take this other woman. Said he'd leave home and go to the cornfield where this other woman's at. Said she went over to George Herr'n's and told him about it and he give her sump'n to chew and then spit it in his coffee and said that she did it and he broke it. Broke him from goin' to see this woman.
Marybird McAllister:
Chap Wood lived up here on Uncle Early's place. Old man Chap Wood, a colored man, lived there and his cow was givin' bloody milk. Ev'ry time he milked her it was blood. And Pap told him to go to George Herr'n. He was young-lookin'. That's been, oh, long time. And Pap said he commenced rubbin' that cow down the back. Finally she dropped dead, just laid there like she's dead. And Chap commenced cryin'. "Oh," say, "don't cry. That cow'll git all right in a few minutes." Pap said it wasn't a half hour that cow got up and went to eatin' just as pert as she ever was. Yes sir. He used to be mean but he done quit that since he jined the church. He quit all them things.
Norah Herring:
My father's name was Noah Herring and George Herring was my grandfather. He would make medicine for people with what they called rheumatism in those days, and I expect it's just the arthritis that we have now is what it was. And then he would make cough syrup and things like that for people and people would come that was, you know, in kind of a nervous state, in sorrow and disturbed. Just sump'n like what we have, you know, emotionally disturbed people. I have an idea that's what it was, that was wrong with 'em in those days just like it is now. And then said he would do differ'nt methods and women would come and they was broken down and weak and just couldn't keep themselves goin', you know. And if the mind was upset he would kindly get them into raisin' flowers or somethin' like that and older people he'd tell 'em to do garden work and things like that. And then he'd git some kind of herbs and things and give 'em that would build'em up some.
He raised a lot of flowers himself, all kinds of flowers. The whole place they say it was just 'round with flowers. And then he would give 'em flower seeds and tell 'em to plant those kind of flowers and raise 'em and that would help them and garden seeds and things. And then for weak people said he'd tell 'em to eat a lot of fruit especially grapes to build the blood up. Whether that does that or not we just don't know. They tell us fruit's good for us. That's what they always say. The way you eat, you know. My father would fix up some medicine for his stock and differ'nt things like that or sometimes he'd fix up a little cough syrup of the differ'nt herbs but nothin' like they said that his father done. See, the law prohibited it some and in the last days you couldn't do that.
Where George Herring lived was about six miles from Swift Run up in the -- south from Swift Run comin' this way, up in the hollow. I have heard that people would come and would think that. There was somethin' had been like a spell or somethin', they called it spells but it was just sickness right like we have now. And he would tell 'em these differ'nt things to do. You know, he told 'em to keep busy and all like that which the doctors tell us today. They said he would sometime take people and walk out with 'em in the woods and give 'em differ'nt kinds of leaves and tell 'em to chew it. Now whether that was just an old idee just to git somethin' out of their mind, I've heard of that. You know we have 'em today. They call 'em emotionally disturbed people and I can't see the differ'nce as it would be in those days and these days.
There's somethin' that grows around a garden, kind of a weed but they called it "the garden plant." And said he would make it up and give it to the boys and girls and tell 'em to give it to each other. Just put it on their hands and shake hands with each other and they'd love each other. Now you know that was a, just a tale.
And said that the women would come -- I will tell you this -- you know havin' trouble with their husbands and all and he'd tell 'em to make theirself pretty, what all to do, to work and be good company for their husbands and all. Said that'd make a lot a differ'nce. I've heard of that.
He lived to be quite old. He was in eighties. He died about nineteen-hundred-two or nine teen -hundred-three, I think. He had a family in the time of the Civil War. There used to be some people used to hide out, dodge the army up here. That happened to some people, but he didn't do that. The Southern army, some of the soldiers said they come once to get him. You know, they would come and get the people that wouldn't, you know, wouldn't go to fight and they come to get him and he just wouldn't go. So they messed around with him awhile and he told 'em he just wasn't goin' and he wasn't goin' to either side, that he didn't believe in it and he wasn't goin'. He didn't believe in slavery. So they said they left him and they wouldn't bother him any more.
David Morris:
I was born right on this place. That was about 1885. I've seen George Herrin' when I was a boy, you know. He lived back over in Rockingham County. He lived in a pretty hard to get to place. You got on Simmon's Gap. You drop right over there just a mile or two. He lived right under that hill. Left-hand side of the road as you went on down to Swift Run. There was a woman. They said she believed in witches and that a witch was a-botherin' her. And Noah Herrin' and Oren Davis, she'd give 'em a gallon of brandy if they'd burn that witch up. They told her they would. And they had to fix it. They stuffed an old pair of pants, you know, with straw and Noah told 'em to git in the bed so they couldn't see nothin', they was gonna burn a witch up that night. Noah built a fire and set down right by the fire with a stick and said Oren slipped the old pair of pants down the chimney and it made an awful fire. And Noah thrashed it with a stick and told her he burnt the witch up. So that's the way they burned the witch up. The two of 'em got together and did it. Noah was old man George Herrin's son. Now, whether Noah learned that from his pappy I don't know. I couldn't tell you about that.
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