Mark Anthony Canty, Sr.

Mark Anthony Canty, Sr., Owner/Chef, Eatz on Moore Street; Bristol, Virginia, Lives in Bristol, Tennessee:

“I’m originally from Kingsport [Tennessee] and moved up here in the early ‘60s. Things have changed. When I first moved to Bristol, there were only basically three, well four, ethnic groups here. There were white people, African Americans, a family of Cherokee Indians and Billy Bryant, who was Hawaiian. That was basically the makeup of Bristol. 

We spent a lot of time outdoors [as kids]. Bristol was still segregated. I used to tell my boys you couldn’t go to the Paramount back when I was a kid. You could go to the Cameo, but you had to go upstairs to the balcony. It was just different growing up here in what I call the rural South. 

Being as it may, opportunity for most African Americans was not great here in this town. I remember as a kid, even growing up in Kingsport, we didn’t have a public swimming pool at first until later on in the ‘60s. But, we used to go on up there at Legion Pool and lean on the fence and watch the white families swim and have a good time. In our minds, we were swimming. When you don’t know anything but this type of living, you learn to adapt. 

One of my favorite sayings as a boy growing up was, ‘it’s hard to be big, when little’s got you.’

I had a lot of great vision, even as a kid. I knew that things were going to change, ‘cause it had to. Through education and redistribution of wealth, opportunity was going to finally come to all Americans. I think one of the biggest hopes we had at the time was [during] the Martin Luther King, Jr. era, and President John F Kennedy. That gave me, even as a young kid hope. 

I knew it was going to be tough and everybody knows that before there’s a victory, there’s always a battle. But, holding on and having a lot of faith, I still believe in the Constitution of the United States, you know, equal rights and a chance for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That’s what I try to teach my kids. I often tell my kids if you cannot make it in America, there’s no place else left on the globe that you can make it. Education will change your future, especially here in the United States. 

Me coming up, we didn’t understand what racism was, but you learned about it. Racism is a learned thing ‘cause kids don’t really see color until somebody educates them to the difference, and starts the poisoning there. I have some white friends of mine and we’ve been friends since we were little kids, and we’re still friends today. It’s never been a color issue, even though it exists. We’re true friends. 

The first actual change I saw [was when] they desegregated the public schools. I thought it was one of the most brilliant decisions, Brown vs. the Board of Education, America had made, to uphold the law. Not create new laws, but uphold the laws [creating] equal schools, for equal people. 

As a kid, we got the textbooks from the white schools. They were outdated and old, and those were the textbooks we got. I never saw a color movie in school until they integrated schools. All we ever saw was black and white, 8mm. But, I could see the change coming. It was some difficult years because there was more opposition towards blacks than blacks were in opposition to integration.

[Attending a desegregated school] It opened up my mind to that there is a bigger world than the one I was made to exist in. I saw freedom as what freedom was truly about. Not that we had achieved it all, people always talking about time, take a little time, we moving too fast, but if not now, when? And that was the motto going around, that was the slogan that was going out then. If not now, when? 

I gave my kids an opportunity and an experience that I was never able to achieve, and I sent all my kids to private schools, Sullins Academy. I can see the academic performance that they were able to achieve from being in that environment. We didn’t go there just to mix, we [went] there to get a step up and get ahead on the educational platform. It has paid off. 

[Joined the Air Force] right after high school. I was intent to leave Bristol, ‘cause I knew there was a big, big world out there and I wanted to see it. I didn’t get to go overseas like I’d planned, cause Richard Nixon resigned and we had a couple of Presidents that we didn’t vote in that was able to come in, Spiro Agnew, Gerald Ford, and they closed down a lot of military action. 

I think that’s one of the greatest things I’ve ever done, was go and serve my country. 

It’s [racism] always been there in the military. Not so blatantly anymore cause they have so much training seminars that this person, doesn't matter what color he is, you depend on him as part of the team. In the military, they teach you the weakest link is the weakest person. The weak link in the chain. So whether it’s females or blacks, hispanics, their service taught people how to really get along. You was there with some of the most frustrated people that had never slept in the same room with somebody of another race or creed or color, and it became a melting pot for them. You got to learn people and understand people and find out about them ‘cause you’re working with them day in and day out.

I didn’t pass tech school [in the Air Force] so I [became] a chef in the Air Force. It was a hard adjustment for a little boy out of East Tennessee, Southwest Virginia, and nobody prepared me mentally for the service. I wasn’t able to achieve what I first wanted to do, but being in the service squadron I did. I got to meet some great people. God has a purpose and a plan. 

Me and my wife Lisa, we’ve been married 31 years, and we always have done catering on a small scale. Me being a chef myself, and have always [loved] to cook, [after being] certified in the Air Force, we decided we needed a bigger venue to do large scale catering. We didn’t know that the restaurant and the fresh, good food that we cook here would catch on that fast, but we’re very pleased, and it was the vision that I had. 

We call it Eatz on Moore Street. It took a while, people used to laugh at first but they’re not laughing now. We know we have some of the best home cooked food in 500 miles. We have people from all over the United States and foreign countries that happen to find us on the internet, seen our ratings and have come and shared our food here and been most pleased.

We call our menu a blend of good Southern food and ethnic food. We have some Italian, some old-fashioned South food, some country. We don’t sell any alcohol, but we want to create an atmosphere that people can come in and relax, bring their family in and eat just great home cooking. 

My vision was to make people think when they came here at Eatz on Moore Street, that they’d start thinking about the way [their] grandmother used to cook, and that’s the comment we get just so much every day. And it’s pleasing us. All our food is just genuinely, great food. My wife gains the credit on [the fried chicken]. That’s why we named it Miss Lisa’s Fried Chicken. 

My barbecue sauce [recipe is] over 100 years old. It’s an old, old family recipe from the Sumter Plantation, South Carolina, where my grandfather, 175 years ago came from Liberia, Africa, to Sumter Plantation. I found it years ago. It’s been a success for us. We hope some day to have it on the market here. Folks that taste our barbecue sauce think it’s some of the best barbecue sauce they’ve ever eaten or tasted.

[On racial profiling today] Sure. I’m thankful for the way that Chief Austin [Bristol, Virginia Police] and the Bristol Tennessee Police Department has changed. I see the attitude in the new people that they have hired today. [There is] more of awareness, not just being black or white, but an awareness of carrying out the law as it should be. We here in Bristol, we don’t fear the police like they fear [them] in other places. The time has changed. 

But still, as far as employment and as far as justice and things like that, there [is] still racism in the courts. I watch all our little young men who get involved in illegal activities; they seem to get the harsher sentences. Even first time offenders. Whereas, on the other hand, a lot of these younger white guys that have these kind of offenses, where there’s drugs or whatever, they get moved into alternative programs. It seems like they want to lock our kids up quick. As smarter judges and better thinking judges come on board, it gets a little bit easier. It’s not a perfect world.

I live in a pretty decent neighborhood out near Steele Creek. All in my neighborhood are some really good people. They are really good. And then, I have a neighbor that lives next door; he puts out his big, huge rebel flag. We kind of laugh about it, ‘cause he don’t know no better. We talk about it amongst ourselves and I said, ‘he’s not even a Southerner! He’s from up Baltimore, [or] Boston, and he has no ties to the South.’ It’s not intimidating to me. My friend calls [it] the ‘loser mentality.’ It’s a lost cause. 

What it [rebel flag] represents then, and what it represents now is not a whole lot of difference, but it just doesn’t have any power now. Most intelligent people are not going to run up and down the street with a rebel flag to try to intimidate people. Most people that I know don’t. But we still have that. And I laugh all the time every time I go home—I see this rebel flag just waving. And even his own daughter kind of gets upset at her dad, ‘cause she said, ‘ya’ll just some crazy people’. 

This past Christmas, I survived and had a liver transplant. I knew that eventually I’d develop cirrhosis of the liver. I thought I’ll need a liver transplant it in 10 or 15 years, but then I thought I’d be 70, 75, I don’t know if I’ll go through it. Then it went south on me. I started failing quite rapidly, and the day after Christmas, the VA sent me to Vanderbilt. At Vanderbilt, they put me on the [transplant] list on the 27th, and in less than 24 hours after I got down there they had a liver for me, which is a miracle. I thank God for that and that opportunity. 

Since I’ve had the liver transplant, I’ve had no issues of rejection or infection. I’ve done well with it. It worked like it belonged in me. I’m just so thankful. I’m a faith believing person. I knew it was just one of the plans God had me to go through. But I’m here. I haven’t felt this good in 20 years to be honest with you. I tell folks that all the time I have to be careful, ‘cause sometimes I don’t realize that I’m 60 years old almost, and you want to do things like you did when you was 25 and 30. 

[Biggest triumph] Getting saved when I was 13. It was life changing. I remember praying as a kid, I’ve always lived mostly with my grandmother who was a prayer warrior. I was 12 years old at the time, 13 in October, and in June, I was praying and, a lot of people don’t understand, the spirit of the Lord woke me up late that night and the Lord spoke to me. I gave my heart and my soul to the Lord at 12. [He] told me about my life, and he told me about some things that were gonna happen. 

He said ‘you’re going to grow up in one of the greatest times in American history’. And that was the Civil Rights movement. The Lord told me that I would have five sons… and I do have five sons. Lord told me that I would live to be a ripe old age. And so far I’m still going. There’s a couple of other things I’m waiting to see. He promised that he would bless me. So I’m here. 

[Most difficult time] Raising kids. People think I’m an expert on raising kids, and I have to stop and tell them I’m still learning. The story isn’t written yet. Wait till I get a couple generations below me, and then come back and ask. I just do the best that I can. 

I teach my kids the right way, and they have free will. They’ve been raised and taught that they know right from wrong, the expectation and what we expect from our children and for them to do throughout their life, and I’m pleased for the most part. 

Morgan [son] is special. He reminds me of David in the Old Testament. He really loves the Lord. He’s the only one when I was sick, well his dad was dying, he’s the one that went behind my back and told my doctor he wanted to give me half his liver. My doctor’s told me and I told him the Lord told me just to hold on, that he’d take care of us. But he is truly a special child.

When I was sick, I was writing my eulogy. And I still would like to have this on my stone; there’ll probably never be a street named after me, or a plaque in my honor placed upon the sidewalk. I’m not looking to have a holiday or anything like that, but what I want people to say is that, first of all he loved God, he loved his family, he loved his wife, and he loved mankind. That’s what I want [people to say]. He was good to people. “

Greg Lilly

Greg Lilly, Electronics Technician; Check, Virginia, Floyd County:

“I live in Floyd County now, Virginia, a little town called Check. I was born in Beckley, West Virginia. I’m an electronics technician. I learned that in the Navy back in the 70’s. 

‘I was born in ’53 [in Beckley, West Virginia] and ‘course that’s a little while back; I’m not that old hopefully, but I remember things like the TV going off at eleven or twelve o’clock. That’s back when you had the black and white TV and some really good shows like ‘Seahunt’. The TV went off at midnight, and you had a test pattern till the next day. 

When you get of school and come home, you didn’t have to worry about latch down kids, everybody just came home and started playing till somebody showed up. It was no big deal in those days. Those were pretty good times, back when a dime or a nickel was worth something.

[Families tried] to instill good values in you. You might look back and say, ‘Well, I didn’t like it ‘cause they did this or that,’ but I think most people our age, right around sixty or so, we were brought up in school and it was okay to get a paddlin’ if you did something wrong. We said the Pledge of Allegiance in the mornings; we said our prayer in the mornings. Seemed like people were a little more aware of what they were doing, and if you made a mistake you got some sort of punishment for it. It really wasn’t bad. I don’t know of anybody that got a normal spankin’ that it really hurt them. I think you can get out of control with it. Nowadays, the kids go to school and you can’t give them a spankin’ and everything’s changed so much it’s just hard to see it. I just think I grew up in a good period. 

My dad and my mom both liked to hunt and fish. Up in this area, in southern West Virginia, that’s a big thing. Not only did we eat what we got, it was a good thing to take your family out and do that. Fishing was always fun. Some fish you didn’t take home and some you did. We’d hunt squirrels, rabbits, deer; just whatever was in season. We ate it and enjoyed it. I passed along the hunting and fishing part to my kids and they all love that. 

Seems like we always got together at Thanksgiving and Christmas and always ate good food, homemade rolls and certain recipes got passed down. Blackberry dumplings homemade, that’s really good. Eating was a big thing. I remember, ‘Bread and butter, come to supper’.

My mom and dad always had a garden. I remember I’d get in there a little bit and try to grow with my mom. We’d have a contest to see who could grow the biggest cucumbers. That was just part of what people did around here.

My grandaddy was named Clifford Lilly. He was a part of a coal company at one time. It was called LiIly and Hornbrook [and] they were out of Crab Orchard. They owned a water company also around Beaver. They were business people and they inherited that from his daddy, Prince Lilly. 

He had a mine in a little town called Lillybrook. It was called Lillybrook Mines. I have some coal script out in the car from those mines that was started in early 1900s, 1940s. If you worked for a company, and it wasn’t just coalmines, and they had a company store, they would pay you with script, which was a coin that was specially printed. It had denominations of like 5,10, 25 and they spent this script in the company store. You can get on Ebay and find it, it’s not real expensive, and there’s literally thousands and thousands of different scripts out there for different things. 

We used to hang out [at my grandparents] a good bit. He had a TV that had an antenna that turned, and that was nice ‘cause you could get more than one station. He’d always get mad at me for turning that little knob and making that antenna spin around all the time. They had a pretty nice house, comparatively in those days. 

He used to have a pool table in the basement, and that was a big deal. It was one that just had the ol’ leather pockets and you’d just go get the balls out of the pockets when you shoot. 

My dad worked in the coalmines some until the ‘60s, and then coal got to where it wasn’t real profitable even in those days, where it was only so much a ton. I think they invested in a mine and the seam ran out. Then, he left Beckley and moved to a little town called Wytheville, Virginia and was a cost estimator for Pendleton Construction Company for several years. He ended up starting his own construction company later. 

The late ‘60s and early ‘70s I wasn’t living in the coal fields then. I’d been in a few [mines] when I was younger; I’d crawled down in them and look around and stuff, but it just wasn’t really available to me as an option [to work in the coal mines]. I think around here, we know that the coal has really gone way downhill, and people are not having jobs because of it. I wish they could get back into mining more coal, but a lot of that is politics and regulations. 

[My high school days] were mostly in the late ‘60s, so you had rock and roll music and the Vietnam War was going on and people being drafted. Everybody had hot rod cars. I graduated in ‘71 from George Wythe High School [in Wytheville, Virginia]. We had a group of friends we’d hang out together; probably six or eight of us were pretty close. I ended up playing golf. As big as I am, you’d think I’d have played football, but I was a better golfer. Seems like the times were much simpler then. 

I was one of the first classes that went to an integrated school. We really didn’t have any problems. You’d hear on TV about the civil rights and things, but it seemed like in town there wasn’t a problem with any of the people getting along; everybody was friends with each other and when we went to school and they put us all together it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with it. We were always friends anyway. I think people make problems when there’s not problems there, sometimes. 

I personally didn't get drafted. I joined the Navy in ‘73, but I had some friends that were in the Vietnam War. One guy, he got drafted and he wasn’t there two weeks and got killed. I think it was a mortar or something. He’s on The Wall up there in D.C. I remember him, he was older than me, but only two or three people I knew that were killed over there. 

[After high school] I had a couple of choices. I was going to go to college [or] go in the military. I ended up getting married when I was seventeen, and joined the Navy. I was in the Navy six years, and it was good for me because joining for six years they gave me two years of school. 
I ended up getting on submarines, believe it or not. That was good training for me ‘cause I’ve used that to do what I’ve done since then, which was work for decent companies like Hughes Aircraft Company and Sperry. 

[Being on a submarine] wasn’t as bad as people would think. In the late ‘60s and early ‘70s they were bigger than they were in World War ll. The ship was four hundred twenty-five feet long, thirty-three feet in diameter and had one hundred thirty people on it. 

I had a pretty good job; I used to take care of the fire control equipment. It’s not fires like you think of a fire that burns; it was fire like you fire torpedoes. 

It was a real complicated system, more like a computer system, so it was good training to learn how to fix that. 

I spent all my time in the sonar room standing watches, listening to things around the ship, picking them up, and reporting what was around us. I was on that ship four and half years. Our patrols were in the Arctic Ocean, off the coast of Russia. I was on the submarine that had the missiles on it [during the Cold War]. We’ve still got them and they’re out there as a deterrent. We don’t want to use them, but they are there if we need them. 

That was our job, to [be] ready at all times. I’m in the VFW because of [the Cold War]. We were there to be used as a missile platform, and we had constant radio communications where, if they told us, ‘Alright, the Russians have shot their missile at us, you guys go ahead and shoot theirs at them.’ We had [nuclear warheads] on there. It was something we needed to have, and it’s still kinda dangerous out there, so we have to be ready. 

There at the end of [the Cold War] I was working for Hughes Aircraft Company; I was working on a sonar system that picked up the Russian submarines. It was so good, that we’d pick them up as soon as they pulled out of port and they knew that. That was one of the reasons [that helped] them to give up fighting. They were spending all this money, and it really wasn’t working, and then they ended up separating. It’s still coming back and it’s really not completely over. 

Most of us here have left for some period, and then you end up coming back. One reason is these mountains are absolutely gorgeous. You can go out west and you can see the Rockies, or you can go anywhere in the world and see different places, but you don’t find many other places much prettier than this; the gentle rolling hills, the trees, the greenery, a lot of water. It just seems more peaceful here. 

I think [outsiders] hear some with more of a southern, or what some of them might call a hick accent, and they take that instantly as you’re not as smart as they are; or you’re a redneck or backwards, which is completely wrong. 

It’s just the way we’ve talked around here and it’s not good or bad it's just the way it is. 

[My biggest triumphs] are my kids. I’ve got three children, two boys [and] a girl. I’ve got five grandkids and two great grandkids. I’m only sixty-two. I teach them about maybe coming up here next year and try to get them to come. I think I’ve taught them some good values. I think they’re doing fine. I've been employed pretty much my whole life and I’m kinda proud of that. 

When you lose your parents and your family gets smaller, you think, well that makes me next then, doesn’t it? You think about that. I hope I’ve got another twenty or thirty years in me. Might be able to do something a little fun and maybe still be able to help people out. Not have to get up every morning and go to work for somebody else; that’d be nice. 

[I’ve] always been a hard worker and always been a decent provider. I’m not rich or anything, but you know, you don’t have to be. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

Angie Adams

Angie Adams, Physical Therapist, East Kentucky Physical Therapy; Premium, Kentucky: 

“My parents are from here. My first fifteen years I lived up in Dayton, Ohio, then I’ve lived here for the last 33 years. At the time, [my family moved to Dayton] for jobs. 

My father got a job up there and I was raised up there ‘till I was fifteen. When we lived in Dayton, [my Dad] worked at a printing factory, McCall’s magazine. And then the company shut down. And of course, being from Letcher County, they came back to Letcher County. 

He came down here and did strip mining and reclamation. He worked for a strip mining company for years, and he retired from there. He is 74, and still gets out on his 4-wheeler and raises a garden. He and my mother both do. 

In my young life, it was every weekend we came to Kentucky. Oh gosh, [the trips were] long and just curvy, curvy, curvy. We didn’t have [highway] 15 and those kind of good roads. It took forever. Seven hours to get to Letcher County from Dayton. But we traveled at night. My Dad had worked second shift, so as soon as he came home at 11:30 at night we’d take off for Kentucky on Friday [and] get here at four or five o’clock in the morning. 

Mamaw would get up and fix us breakfast. Ohhh, it was eggs and bacon, and gravy and biscuits. She went all out when we came. I always loved it here. This is where I wanted to be. 

I always looked forward to coming down here with my cousins, playing and climbing trees and swinging on grapevines, all those good things. Those were the things that I do remember the most. I hated leaving. I really always wanted to stay here and spend summers here with my grandma. 

Oh yeah, [I’m a hillbilly]. I really always have been. It means, we are a special people. Good, family oriented people. I like that. I really dislike [the stereotype]. They always come in here and get the worst of the worst, when there is so much better than that. 

We live well. I think they just often come in and look for the bad and that really bothers me. Well yeah, you can [find bad anywhere]. I do go back to Dayton every now then and go to downtown Dayton and see the homeless. It’s bad there, too. It’s everywhere. You just have to look for the good. 

Probably one of the saddest times is when my grandfather passed away. He and I were very close and he had a ton of great grandchildren and grandchildren, but I was one that was very close to him. That was a real difficult time for me. I was 28 [when he died]. 

[My grandfather] loved to fish and play cards. That was what we did. We played cards. He would play rummy for hours on end and I just happened to be one of the grandkids that grew up playing cards. My Dad started me playing cards when I was about five years old. I’ve always been a card player. 

He [grandfather] was a coal miner. Worked underground. He never got hurt, and you know those coal miners loved their jobs. He raised eleven children on a miner’s pay and did pretty well. He was just an awesome man. Just a kind, caring man. 

I read. I love to get out on the 4-wheeler and get in the mountains, get in the sunshine, hanging out with friends. I love things like that. I’m an outdoors person. I have been hunting. I’m not good at it because I like to talk and I can’t be quiet. But it’s fun and I’m all for hunting. 

I really think tourism would be a great thing for here. Some family of mine has cabins up on the mountain. There are people that don’t live around here that would love to come to those places and stay for the weekend. We have a lot of festivals and there’s a lot of things for people to do around here. I don’t think coal is ever going to be what it was, and we have to look for other options. 

I would say come down here and visit. Talk to people. We’re a friendly, kind people. Give us a chance. I think you would like the things that we do, and the people that we are.”

Brice Baker

Brice Baker, Retired/Whitesburg Farmer’s Market Vendor; Whitesburg, Kentucky:

“I love farming. I love gardening. I’ve been retired since ’91, and I’ve worked in about all my life, where I was raised up at home. 

I went to grade school over at Colson for eight years, and then I went to Whitesburg High School for four years. 

My Daddy died when he was forty-five, and he was sick fifteen years before that. That’s a young man to die at that age, and we all worked together, and helped in the home as a family. 

Seventy-five or eighty percent of what we ate, we growed our ownselves. Even the beef, the hogs, the sheep, and chickens. But we farmed enough too, we raised enough food to keep ‘em during the winter time. 

I stayed at home during the time I was going to school. In the summer, I would go off somewheres and work when I got of age, in construction work mostly. I worked up in Manassas, Virginia, during the summer, two years in a row, my Sophomore, and then my Junior year. 

My Senior year, I went to Indianapolis. I worked [for] Thermobuild Manufacturing [making] storm windows and doors. Then I came back home, and met this woman [I saw at a restaurant], which is my wife, and we got married. We’ve been living happy together thereafter. 
Last year, we had our fiftieth anniversary. We went on a cruise down in Florida, and went to the Bahamas, and come back to Gatlinburg. 

I went straight from high school to try to find me a job somewhere or other. I worked down here for a dollar and ten cents an hour, and I was going to get married, like I said, in ’64. And I told [my boss], ‘I can’t support a wife on a dollar and ten cents an hour. You’re gonna have to give me a raise.’ And I said, ‘If you don’t want to give me a raise, that’s fine. I’ll give you a notice that I’m gonna quit, and find me another job.’ So he said, ‘Find you another job.’ 

So that tickled me, [when] I got paid three dollars and sixty cents at another job that I went to from there. So that was a big increase in my pay. 

I went to Chicago first, and I didn’t like it there at all. I was gonna try to find me a factory job, that paid good money, ‘cause I’d just got married. I didn’t like it in Chicago. 

The newspaper was on strike, and I went to the unemployment office up there, and got a temporary job. One week, I worked thirty-two hours, just spot labor. That’s what they called it, I think. And I got me a job working in a Coca-Cola plant, a helper on a Coca-Cola truck. I went to take my check to the bank to cash it, and everybody in front of me, they would hold their checks out there, and I would glance at ‘em. 

Their checks was three times more. I said, ‘If they can do that, I can, too.’ So I went to the steel mill, and got me a job in the steel mill, and I went to bringing home three or four hundred dollars a week, too, just like them. So that was the extent of that. 

Far as living there, I didn’t mind living there. But it wasn’t nothing compared to here. Everybody’s in too big a hurry to do something ‘nother, go somewhere, and my wife didn’t like it at all. 

I owned a home on East Fourth Street, next to the city airport there, and it was called an ‘income home.’ It was a two-story brick home. I lived downstairs, and rented the upstairs for more than what the payment was for on the home loan. 

I think we bought it for like thirteen thousand dollars, you can tell how long ago that’s been, and I sold it for twenty-six thousand dollars, and we moved back here. I rented a U-Haul and loaded all my furniture myself, and we’ve been here ever since.

I wouldn’t have cared to stay there at that steel mill, till I retired. I wanted a job, that I could retire, and get a pension from, but I didn’t never do that. I had too many jobs. 

I started working for Southeast Coal Company. There was some layoffs, and strikes, and stuff. I worked for them twenty-seven years, and most of that twenty-seven years was underground. 

I done all aspects of mining. I was a foreman for them, mostly on setups, and some on coal runs, but I didn’t like that coal run. I’d usually get it ready for them to run, and do the dead work, move ups and backs, and that’s about all. But, I run the miner, I run the bolt machine. I’ve run shuttle cars, continued haulage, cutting machines, joy loaders. About everything that they had, I could run it, and do it as well as anybody else.

If you get used to working under the ground in the mines, it stays about the same temperature the year round. And we had gas in the Premium mines, and it was pretty bad. Methane. I’ve sat on a miner before, and it hit a pocket of it [methane] and fire would fly clean back into the controls, burnt and singed the hair on your arms. It would be that hot. 

I got burnt in the Premium mines. A pump blowed up on me. It burnt me pretty bad. The skin rolled off [and] I stayed off for about two weeks. Then, they let me stay off outside for about a week, and then I went back to work. 

I worked over in Virginia in the mines, and it was gassy, but it wouldn’t near like that. I had my Kentucky mining papers, and I had my Virginia mining papers. I was the only one that worked at Dixieana that had Kentucky papers; that could boss in the Kentucky side, or the Virginia side, either one. I guess that’s why they hired me, too. But during the time I was working in Virginia, there was a layoff from Southeast. They couldn’t sell no coal, so I got me a job over in Virginia. 

I owned the Hilltop Grocery over here then. My wife was working it, and I worked on the hoot owl over there, in Virginia. The third shift. Most of the time, we started at 2:00 in the evening, and we would work till, well, eight hours, most of my time was ten hours, because I was the foreman, filling papers and stuff out. It would overlap into 6:00 in the morning we’d get off. And so we done real good, far as making enough money to survive on. 

We got three kids, two boys and a girl. The girl is the oldest, and we got two boys. We had one boy that had leukemia, and we stayed in Cincinnati for almost a year up there, and he relapsed, and we went to Houston, and stayed down there about nine months. But he’s doing real good now. He’s living up in Madison, Wisconsin, and he’s working at a hospice, but he’s a minister, and he’s a good kid. 

I got a good family, and the main thing, I’m a Christian person. I go to church, and I’m a deacon of our church, Jeremiah Missionary Baptist Church. So that’s about the extent of my life, you know. 

The business around here right now, we need politics to take care of Eastern Kentucky, not Louisville, or not Lexington. We need something ‘nother here. Now I think a prison is going to come in here real soon. That will help this right here in this neighborhood, not only the housing, but the economy all the way around, it will help. And I think I heard sketches of it yesterday, that we was definitely supposed to be getting a prison, down at Roxana. It’s Federal, so it will be real good for this area.

(What’s special about the region?) It’s like comparing here to where I lived in Detroit, downtown Detroit. I moved back down here [and] it was like getting out of jail. The traffic [in Detroit] is bumper-to-bumper, and just rush, rush, rush. Down here, you can take your good, cool time, and do anything you want to. Up there, you have to be in a haste to do it.”