Community Newsletter August 2011

Buy a cookbook, read a short story, see community announcements, hook up with us on the internet and more, here's your link to the August Community Newsletter: http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Community-Newsletter-August-2011.html?soid=1102382229068&aid=NST5zlJlpHo

The Golden Valley Community Club was chartered in 1952. For more on this and other community happenings, please see GoldenValleyNC.com .

Gold in Them Hills aka How Golden Valley got its name

Gold
by KD McCall

So much has been written about North Carolina gold reference material is easy to come by. Maps and gold pans are still available in retail stores. One map, the Big Ten, depicts the entire Golden Valley area under a solid gold blob. And with reason, for I expect you can find gold dust in many of the creeks. You might pick up a nugget or flake on a woodland path, in a logging road, or an old dirt drive. These days, unless you have professional mining equipment, it's scarcely worth the trouble to work a creek. It can take a day to find a dollar's worth of dust, and a dollar doesn't go as far as it used to. But at one time the gold in our area profoundly affected the quality of life.

In a 1924 issue of the Salt Lake Mining Review Don Maguire, a "veteran mining engineer from Ogden," said before the discovery of gold:

"...the inhabitants were wretchedly poor. To quote the vernacular, they were simply "poor as rats." A patch of cultivated red, reluctant soil afforded every family each year a few bushels of Indian corn, a limited crop of potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, carrots and cabbage. One or two horses, a yoke of oxen, perhaps a dozen sheep, and a few razor-backed hogs, with the associated usual number of chickens, ducks and geese, made up the live stock wealth of the average family of these mountain regions in the old halcyon days."

Don Maguire had a way with words. I've condensed his five page version, at a great loss, but basically here's his version of the story.

It happened that a fellow, Samuel Martin, a thirty nine or forty year old stranger to these parts, was going home to Connecticut. He'd shipped out as a sailor from Grey Town, Nicaragua, and had landed on the Alabama coast. He'd spent part of his life as a sailor and part of it as a miner. He'd been working in the gold fields in Nicaragua and, after sailing to Alabama, planned to walk home. He expected it would take about three months, more or less.
By the time he reached Brindle Creek his shoes were in "dire need of repair", so when he saw Bob Anderson's shoe repair sign he stopped. The cobbler welcomed him, inspected the shoes and said he could do the job in about three hours, for two bits. Since it was nearly dinner time he added an invitation to dine at no extra charge. The traveler said that was satisfactory, so the shoemaker sat down to the job and his entire family, consisting of one boy, four girls and Mrs. Anderson, were soon busy preparing dinner, while Samuel Martin walked out in his stocking feet into the yard fronting the mud-daubed cabin of the shoe maker.

As Samuel puttered about the yard he began to notice the country round about. The red hills and knolls reminded him of the Central and South American mine fields. On closer inspection the gravel he saw in the cabin chinking looked like gold-bearing gravel. Curious he inspected the cabin more closely finding "slate, granite, and rusty looking quartz" in the chimney. These common things meant nothing to the Anderson's, but Samuel was fresh from the mining fields and they meant a great deal to him. A chunk of mud-daubing was loose and about to fall off so he took hold of it and pulled it off to get a better look. Hummm.

Mrs. Anderson called the men to dinner and he took a last look at the low hills and flats about the countryside, noting "the reddish, light brown gravely surface." Hummm.

During supper after the family was seated and after he had a chance to tell them about his mining experience, according to Maguire, he said: Mr. Anderson, do you know that I believe it might be possible that you have ground around here that would produce gold if a little work was done; and if you will put in your time with me today and tomorrow --after my shoes are repaired --I will begin the work of finding out if there is any gold on your place. After supper, the entire group gathered outside of the cabin to watch Martin wash some of the clay from the cabin. In the bottom of the pan after all the swirling was done there, in a little three inch string, was gold. At that time it was worth about twenty-five cents. Four more pans of dirt from the cabin were washed and each yielded from twenty-five cents to a dollar’s worth of fine gold dust.

When Martin asked where they got their house daubing clay, Anderson told him it had come from the creek bank. The excited group hurried to the creek and Martin ran down ten more pans. Each one produced gold. Martin guessed the fifteen pans he'd tested produced about nine dollars worth. He struck a deal to partner with Anderson agreeing to stay for six months and to teach the family to mine for half of the mining profits.

Says Maguire: "It had been a most eventful day for those present and also for the state of North
Carolina, if not the United States of America, for on that day gold was first
discovered in the territory over which the Stars and Stripes waved."

Within weeks a prominent mining camp has grown up in the vicinity of the Anderson home. Brindletown. Travelers on Highway 64, between Rutherfordton and Morganton, might take note of the Brindletown fire department. The community exists to this day.

Which brings me to the Valley, well within the mining region. Mining brought hordes of people into the area. Several mines went into operation, a number of schools were built, and two post offices sprang up to serve the community. The Golden branch lent it's name to the Valley, hence we have Golden Valley.

New methods of extracting the gold were being constantly tested. The rocker and long Tom (sluice-box) increased the yields. The rocker was a "crude invention usually powered by women or children," reports Theresa Thomas in THE STATE.

January 25, 1936: The sand was washed through a system of wooden troughs, called rockers or cradles, where quicksilver caught a portion of the gold. The cradles were nothing more or less then hollowed-out logs, usually four in number, set upon a frame of other and smaller logs, and joined together in such a manner that a person standing upon the small platform on the center ones was able to rock all of them. It worked on somewhat the same principle as the tread mill except that instead of moving continually forward, one stepped from side to side. Although crude extracting methods captured only twenty-five percent of the gold, leaving seventy-five percent to wash down the creek, people were getting rich. Land prices soared and poor mountaineers sold homesteads for prices that seemed fabulous. A few slaves were brought in to work the mine fields.

At that time, gold dust was traded at a dollar per pennyweight, but a lot of dust was lost during the trades. This posed a problem. The nearest mint was in Philadelphia.(see end note) It took months to have coins minted, but the government could not be convinced to build a mint in the mining region.

Berry Bright Freeman, a local author, writes that Christopher Bechtler of Rutherford County posed a solution. Bechtler was a first rate German born jeweler. He proposed to coin gold into two and one-half, and five-dollar gold pieces. Like a miller he would accept a portion of the dust in exchange for his labor. A deal was struck.

An Old Time Advertisement -- North Carolina Spectator Rutherfordton, NC August 27, 1831

To Gold Miners and Others:

"The undersigned having coined a great quantity of N. Carolina gold into pieces of

$2.50 and $5.00 value, of 20 carats fine and being well prepared to increase the

business to any extent, is established 3 1/2 miles on the road leading from

Rutherfordton toJeanstown, invites the attention of miners in South Carolina and

Georgia as well as N. Carolina to the advantage which would result from having the

product of their mines coined or made into ingots bearing their just value rather then

disposing of it in it's fluxed state, without an assay and therefore liable to produce an

improper value: gold in a fluxed state of 22 and 23 carats is generally sold for 84

cents, consequently an actual saving of 6 cents per dwt. in the bank, whereas it's

intrinsic value, if coined, is 90 to 94 cents, consequently an actual saving of 6 cents

per dwt. will be made by having it coined after paying all the expenses of coining,

etc. Should encouragement be given, new dies will be made especially for stamping

South Carolina and Georgia gold.

"He would also make here known the plan which he has adopted and will pursue; on

receiving a bar of fluxed gold to be coined, the same will be divided, a portion

assayed (by a fire ordeal) for the purpose of ascertaining it's exact fineness, and he

will be accountable for the amount of the value of the whole so ascertained --at the

same time returning to the owner 1/2 dwt. of each assay, which he may keep for his

own satisfaction or for the purpose of having it assayed elsewhere to find it's value,

that no deception of fraud may be practiced, and, in case there should be, that he

might have the means of detecting the same --for all which he holds himself

responsible. The following are his prices: for fluxing 400dwts, or less $1.00; for

assaying (by a fire ordeal) 1000dwts, or less $1.00; for coining 2 and 1/2%. When

the gold is to be coined no charge is made for the assay."

(Signed) C. Bechtler. Bechtler’s mint occupied two sites, one behind what is now the Rutherford County
Courthouse at W. Sixth Street and N. Washington, (see *end note) and another on Highway 221. Memorial placards mark the sites.

Several newspaper articles appear in the book by Berry Bright Freeman, Bechtler's Gold. One tells a little about him and how much gold he minted: The Charlotte News, November 6, 1935.

"The Money Maker: Christopher Bechtler of Germany, a foreign immigrant who never became a citizen, was granted permission by the U.S. Government to MAKE HIS OWN MONEY! His private mint was located at Rutherfordton, N.C., and he coined $2,241,840.50 in gold pieces.

"Just how much gold was actually minted? This has been a topic of debate for many years. The question being -- if he coined that much gold, where is it? Since the coins were minted privately, the US treasury was unable to record and consequently unable to substantiate the amount. However, it is a fact that Christopher Bechtler operated a mint in Rutherfordton from 1831 and passed the business to his son, August, who operated the facility from 1842 until his death. Another family member Christopher Jr. took over and operated the mint until the mid 1840s."

"The effect of a gold discovery," says Maguire, "in any country, if such a discovery is of importance, is truly wonderful."

And the gold found here was of some importance.

The aftermath?
None of the folks who got rich during the mining boom kept their fortunes. They lived lives of feast and
famine. When they found gold they feasted, when it was gone they famished.

The Anderson's? According to Maguire, all together, the Anderson's earned $39,500 from their venture. They lived very well for a while. Bob purchased a small plantation and four Negroes, paying half down for the plantation. He financed the Negroes. Within five years he was flat broke. "His son, Jackson, took to drinking, gambling, horseracing, and went to the devil completely."

Within eleven years of the Brindletown strike, Bob, his wife, and his daughter, Rachael, were dead, leaving the remaining girls, Jane and Matilda to die in the county poor house. Maguire concludes, " so often perishes the glory of this world."

Samuel Martin was a true rags to riches story. He ended up staying not six, but eight months and earned
$18,473.50 for his trouble. After buying horses, a wagon, camping gear, blankets, a gun, and some clothing, he departed. He was last seen driving his team of horses north.

When the Gold Rush hit California in 1849 the largest part of the miners and their families left the Golden community and hurried out west to get rich.


* * * * Author's Notes:

For more and current information please contact the great folks at the GPAA they'll help you get started on a Gold Adventure of your own.
The library at Isothermal Community College at Spindale Campus has a Bechtler gold coin and a Bechtler pistol is (at the time of this writing) on display in the Old Tryon Room.

There are many stories in circulation concerning the discovery of gold in Rutherford County, this story is only one of them. The Isothermal Community College and the Burke County libraries have a wealth of information stored in their vertical files, for research see: Gold and: Mining, Minerals and Resources.

And I have often wondered if the first Gold was found here in 1828 why was there a mint at Philadelphia? Can anyone tell me about that, I'd surely like to know.

And yes, we do know about the Reed Gold Mine they say Gold was found there first.

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Karen D. McCall, and I am a REALTOR with United Country -- Country Lanes Real Estate. At the time of this writing the *house where part of the Bechtler Operation was located, in Rutherfordton, is for sale. If you're interested, give me a call. You may visit my community real estate website at:  KDMcCall.com

The Official Travel & Tourism Website for North Carolina

The Official Travel & Tourism Website for North Carolina Looking for something to do this summer? Well, here you'll find just about EVERYTHING there is to do in NC. And if your special somewhere's not listed, well let them know.

From the Biltmore House, to the Arts Festival, From Arts and Entertainment ro Family Fun Want to know great places to play Golf? What about the all time great Sliding Rock near Brevard? They're all here, they're all fun, and some of it's free.

Thermal Belts in NC

Thermal Belts in NC via Isothermal Community College.

What is an isotherm anyway? Have you ever been swimming and gone through some warm water, or suddenly felt a chill? Temperature changes in a body of water, a shift that can be measured, may be as near as I can get to describing an isotherm.

I believe the weather here is different because we're in a valley. We have mountains to the east and to the west. When weather rolls north out of the Gulf, I believe it hits the mountains and is deflected from our sheltered valley. Asheville gets more snow than we do, Raleigh/Durham gets more snow than we do, but, what do I know?

In the afore-mentioned article prepared by Isothermal Community College you'll read what W.N. Hurt, a former horticulturist for the state of North Carolina and others, know.

We just know the weather around here is Golden. For a long time I thought that's why they called it, Golden Valley.

Community Newsletter July 2011

In this issue of Whiteside's Company Clips, you'll find: information about the CMFD's Cookbooks, a short story by Mickey Brackett, "The Great Golden Valley Truck Wreck", the Golden Valley Community Webpage's Facebook information, Community Announcements, Rutherford County Events and more. GV's Facebook page has 323 "Likers". Join us, Won't you? Here's how to get on our Mailing List. Subscribe via Constant Contact.

A Tribute to The Jesse Brown

Golden Valley Community Club has lost a member and friend. A lovely memorial service was held at South Mountain Christian Camp on June 11, 2011 in honor of the late Jesse W. Brown. (12/30/1933 - 06/01/2011) Nearly 200 people gathered to celebrate Jesse's life. Everyone brought covered dishes for a delicious, sit-down dinner that Jesse would have thoroughly enjoyed. After the meal the service was held and several people rose from the crowd to speak. A familiar picture of Jesse in the role of husband, father, and friend emerged, but there were special speakers.

Several men from the prison ministry Jesse worked with came to the service. One man, a former prisoner, stepped to the podium to share his story. He told about how Jesse’s personal involvement helped him to change his life. The current owner of Jesse Brown's Outdoor Outfitters stepped up and spoke of Jesse as a visionary. He told how much they appreciated carrying on the mission at Jesse Brown’s, supplying hikers, campers, mountaineers, and other outdoor enthusiasts, through the store Jesse founded in the 70's. He said Jesse and Catherine ordered supplies for the doctors and nurses at the hospital where Jesse was treated, and continued to support the store even in those last days.

The Minister of the church that is now in the building that once housed the store and his wife came. He told the story of the how their church began and said Jesse received a higher offer for the building, and was under no obligation to sell it to them, but sold it to them anyway, to further the ministry. Seth, Jesse's longtime “adopted” son and former co-pilot with Piedmont Airlines shared some memories about Jesse. He and his wife Connie had driven up from Florida. Seth and Connie are the couple Catherine stayed with when Jesse had surgery and was bedridden the subsequent 108 days. They were with him and Catherine throughout the ordeal.

Charlotte and OA Fish, of the South Mountain Christian Camp met Jesse and Catherine as volunteers and says they were the best of the best. One of Jesse's Appalachian Trail buddies from the days at the store, who completed his walk in the woods, returned to the store to get a new backpack. He said Jesse told him if he could wear it out the store would exchange it. After the Trail he didn’t expect to hold the store to it, but sure enough his old backpack went on display in the shop. Someone from The Sowers came and talked about how Jesse and Catherine volunteered with them for several years, traveling to various locations across the US to work on construction projects. Sheriff Chris Francis spoke and told the story about when he first met Jesse, about how Jesse had gotten so involved in the campaign that he wore Chris Francis tee shirts and covered his car with campaign stickers. He said Jesse wasn't a man who did things by half measures - if he got behind you - he was committed. Jesse’s dear friend Joe from the Sabbath Keepers blew the shofar. And there was more.

We heard loving stories about Jesse as Husband, Father, Minister, Airline Pilot, Outdoorsman and Friend, but we didn't hear about Jesse as Neighbor. That’s because I could not bring myself to speak. I kept seeing pictures of Barney, Jesse's dear friend, his old yellow dog, and couldn't help but think: if dogs go to Heaven surely Barney greeted Jesse, surely they were reunited. I envisioned Jesse in a wingback chair with Barney at his side watching the service. So, you didn't get to hear about how Jesse used to Skype me from various locations as he and Catherine traveled. You didn't know he kept a bottle of Tabasco in my refrigerator, you didn't hear how he went to the hospital and sat with neighbors who had been admitted, and you didn't hear anything about The Garden, a project that deserves at least 8 pages. You didn't know he was not only a neighbor, but a dear friend. Jesse was a living example of a thru hiker on a Christian walk, not without foibles, not without comedy, not perfect, but rather a hard-headed, lion-hearted man of the fifties, chin outthrust and striving forward. The very fact that he was not perfect and still accomplished so much in Christian service was a blessing to me.

He walked life's path, sometimes staggering, sometimes falling, sometimes in the wrong direction, but always with faith. Looking in the mirror kept him from holding himself above a single soul. And despite the fact that he loved recognition, he lived, not by natural inclination, but by choice with the heart of a servant.

It's pretty amazing what one might accomplish when one says, here I am Lord use me. Most of us want to clean up our acts before offering ourselves in service. But Jesse did as he thought he ought to do; he packed his super-duper-pooper-scooper and hit the trail. He made some mistakes, some big ones, and he shared them in a way that made you feel better about yours. I suppose it kept him humble.

It's hard to be humble when you love the limelight, and he would have loved a gathering of people whose common ground was in loving him. Jesse and Barney would have loved his Memorial Service. I wish he could have been there.

Maybe he was.

  Simple Truths, the movie.

Mickey Brackett's Grandpa Rides Again

The Great Golden Valley Truck Wreck
By Mickey Brackett

Rush Rollins, my grandfather, drove a 1949 model Dodge pickup truck for years. The cab was dirty yellow and the bed was dirty black. This truck may have gotten wash jobs but I never witnessed one except when it rained. Like most if not all trucks made in the late 40s and 50s, it had a manual transmission with a long floor mounted gear stick. I made a few trips with my grandfather to nearby Forest City in this truck. He drove like a person with no stress, no appointments, and no certain time to return. Driving slowly was a necessity for him. He always smoked self-rolled Prince Albert cigarettes while driving. These smokes were always dropping hot embers onto his shirt causing a moment of chest slapping and hard language until the burning stopped. If this distraction ever caused an accident, I never knew of it. Every new shirt he wore soon had Prince Albert holes in them. Gasoline was less than 30 cents per gallon in the 1960s. Even at this bargain price money must have been extremely tight. Grandfather practiced the lost art of coasting down long hills to save fuel. At the hilltop he would grab the gear stick and push it to neutral and turn the switch off. Down the hill we would go free wheeling by the power of gravity. As we reached the bottom and started uphill, the truck would start losing speed at which time grandfather would push in the clutch, turn on the switch, push the gear stick into third or fourth gear, then let out the clutch. The engine would start back up, pulling the truck to the top of the next hill where he would do this procedure over again and again on the road to town and back. My grandfather had no other vehicles except the farm tractor. The old truck served my grandfather well.

Uses for the Dodge truck included hauling small loads of pulp wood to the closest pulp wood yard to be sold. I doubt the pickup would haul ½ cord of wood, but anyway, grandfather would use the yellow truck for this purpose. He never owned a power chain saw, but he still seemed to cut plenty of pulp wood. He used a buck saw, which is a one-man bow saw. This created no loud sound, no smoke, used no gasoline, and never needed to be taken to town for repairs. While cutting trees with this saw he always kept handy a short Coke bottle filled with kerosene. The bottle had dried pine needles stuffed halfway into the bottle neck. When the buck saw was not sawing well due to pine rosin, he would swab the pine needle end of the bottle across the blade. This may be done several times prior to falling a tree. After several trees were cut up, he would load the wood by hand onto the yellow truck. When he arrived at the pulp wood yard, he had to hand unload the wood onto a rail car. The whole process was slow, hard work but did give him some fishing money.

My grandfather loved to fish. I think that is why he never had a full-time public job, which would have interfered with his fishing schedule. His favorite fish to go after was the crappie. This fish was noted for large schools. If you found the right spot, a fisherman could fill a cooler with these good-tasting fish. Grandfather usually caught the fish using live minnows as bait that he seined from the creeks near his house. Fishing for crappie was typically done from a boat.

Even though grandfather fished regularly, he never owned a boat. He did however own a 10 horsepower Johnson outboard boat motor. Lake James, located between Marion and Morganton, was a favorite fishing spot for my grandfather. The lake was an estimated 25 miles from Golden Valley. I have seen cooler full after cooler full of crappie caught in Lake James by my grandfather and other lesser known fisherman like Bill Hauser, Coy Toney, Smoky Martin, and Leit Witherow. Any trip to the lake required loading the outboard motor, a two-cycle gas tank, cooler of ice, fish net, paddle, flashlight, drinking water jug, minnow bucket, rod & reels, tackle boxes, anchor (usually a concrete block), rope, lanterns, food, and soft drinks. This was loaded into the bed of the yellow Dodge truck. Two or three people would ride in the cab of the truck and off they would go. Once at Lake James they would rent a flat bottom John-boat from Benfields or Lance’s Boat Landing. All the fishing gear including the outboard motor would be unloaded from the truck and placed into the boat. They fished nights or days until the minnows were all gone or dead or the sun got too hot.

The great Golden Valley truck wreck occurred while returning from one of these fishing trips. The year may have been 1963. We still had no telephone in our house. Someone drove to tell us grandpa had been in a wreck on Highway 226 near Highway 64. Everyone jumped into the car and off we went. Wrecks were newsworthy. Mother was concerned about her dad. Was he hurt? I had not seen many wrecks so this was exciting to a 12-year-old boy. Highway 226 was a good secondary state road running between Shelby and Marion and beyond. This was grandfather’s normal route to and from Lake James. He must have fished all morning and was returning home mid-afternoon. Golden Valley is in Rutherford County and the Lake is in McDowell and Burke Counties. A ridge of the South Mountains is the boundary separating McDowell County from Rutherford County. Highway 226 goes over the western end of this South Mountain ridge and this is where the great Golden Valley truck wreck occurred. Grandfather was slowly climbing the McDowell County side of the ridge when he encountered another slower moving vehicle driven by Banner Huskins. If grandfather was going 35 mph, Banner must have been going 25 mph. Banner also drove a pickup truck which was older than my grandfather’s truck. These old trucks were well built of thick sheet metal, heavy axles, big tires, and strong steel frames. Grandpa did not like following such a slow poke and decided it was time to change positions. Going up the mountain grade, he moved over to the passing lane and started around the other vehicle, forgetting he was in an old truck heavily loaded with fishing gear.

There he was, heavily loaded, traveling uphill beside Banner Huskins, on a two-lane road, when a third vehicle coming down the hill straight at him was spotted. Grandpa pushed the gas pedal to the floor trying to make the old Dodge accelerate faster but without success. He had to do something and now! Turning to the right he hoped to clear Banner’s front bumper and pull in front of him. Instead, grandpa’s rear bumper caught Banner’s front bumper. The two bumpers joined at 25 mph and would not disconnect. The physics of this wreck I don’t fully understand. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The reaction turned the Dodge truck over on its side dumping the fishing gear out in multiple directions. Banner’s truck held upright and luckily no one was badly injured.

As is normal in such automobile accidents, the North Carolina Highway Patrol soon arrived. Someone had to be at fault. Someone should receive a violation, ticket, or fine. What was the cause of this wreck? This patrolman was not from Golden Valley. He did not know Rush Rollins or Banner Huskins; however, he would question each to fully understand what happened. He asked, “Who was driving the yellow truck?” “I was,” answered my grandfather. “Was speed the cause of this accident?” the patrolman asked. At times like this, one must dig deeply to find humor in such an unhappy situation and grandpa did. He answered with the Prince Albert cigarette in his mouth, “Yes, sir, it was. The lack of speed was the cause of the accident.” The patrolman gave grandpa a ticket for reckless driving in an old fishing truck.

Thinking the truck had seen its better days, grandpa sold the truck to Rob Freeman. Mr. Freeman drove the truck for 10 more years. Grandpa replaced the Dodge with a blue Ford pickup with a stick shift on the column. He continued to go fishing and coasted down many more hills while puffing on a Prince Albert cigarette.