THE JAMAICAN BOBSLED TEAM ...... APPALACHIAN
STYLE
My cousin Ronnie Rollins and his friends were an
adventurous lot in the early 1960s.
Ronnie lived with his maternal grandmother and
grandfather, Willie Mae and James
Lockhart at Coal Camp #2 in the little town of
Kenvir, Kentucky (commonly referred to
as Black Mountain by the locals.) And the only
things that Ronnie and his friends
feared were God and Willie Mae Lockhart. God,
because he is their savior and the
Master of everything, and Wilie Mae because she
kicked ass instead of taking names.
When she said "Jump" you were smart if you answered,
"How high?".
The group that Ronnie was a member of and ran with,
which I call the Black Mountain
Mafia, usually consisted of Jack Canady, Jerry
Massengill, Dale Gilbert, Jerry Rogers,
Steve Malakas, and Freddy Davis. (Occasionally there
would be an interloper or two.)
They were not genisues but when it came to plotting
and scheming they were up there
with the best of them and they all could have been
successful politicians if they had
so desired. Governor Rollins has a nice ring to it,
doesn't it?
One day the members of the Mafia were roaming the
hills that surrounded Black
Mountain. As they were descending they got to an
area where slate, a waste product
from coal mining, had been dumped for decades. At
the spot where they stopped there
was a long piece of tin about 8. feet long and about
2.5 feet wide. Well one of the
guys got the "brilliant" idea of riding the piece of
tin down the slate covered hill.
Hey! Why WALK down a hill when you can rapidly ride
down a hill and get a thrill in
the process. They all thought and agreed that was
the thing to do. So they did!
The slate dump was sleep and was about 75 yards wide
by 100 yards long and at the
bottom of it ran a shallow creek. (And for all of
you not familiar with the slate of
which I am writing, it is a thin, brittle, and SHARP
piece of rock that is not worth
anything at all.) The Mafia thought about their
impending ride down the tons of slate
and moved forward..
Excitedly the members of the Mafia discussed where
they wanted to be positioned on the
tin and proceeded to their selected spot. Then
one of the guys reached back and
pushed them off and they were going, like bats out
of hell, toward the bottom of the
slate dump.
Of course it did not take long for the Mafia to
realize that this ride was not one of
the smartest decisions the group had ever made. They
had not gone 10 yards when one of
the guys fell off and was hollerin' and screaming
due to the cuts and bruises that the
slate was putting upon him. This did not make the
ones still on the tin feel any
better, but it was either fly or die.
About every 10 or 15 yards the tin sled was lighter
by one individual body which made
it go ever faster downward. Pretty soon there was
only one individual left on the tin
and that was Freddy Davis. Freddy was excited about
how fast the was traveling and
about him being the only one left on the sled.
Freddy's excitement about being the only survivor
did not last long. When the sled got
to the bottom of the slate dump, it abruptly
stopped, causing Freddy to become
airborne. Even though Freddy had pretended many
times to be Superman when he was a
small kid, in reality he was anything but Superman.
He could not fly and he had no
superpowers which was even made more obvious by the
gash he got on his head from a
rock he had met head first when he landed in the
creek. The rock was fine but Freddy
was not not.
When the ejected and dejected members of the Mafia
finally made it down to the bottom
of the slate dump they found Freddy in a daze,
mumbling and stumbling. Their clothes
and shoes were torn and they were cut from head to
toe. They all looked as if the had
been in a hatchet fight without a hatchet, but they
were all in better shape than
Freddy. And this worried them.
They all talked with Freddy in an effort to
determine how coherent he was. It soon
became evident that Freddy was in bad shape and
needed medical attention. They all had
tried to persuade each other to be the ONE to take
Freddy to his dad, Fred Sr. (aka
Blab), so he could be taken to a doctor for much
needed medical attention. No one
wanted to be the ONE to tell Blab about the accident
so they decided they all would
have to go, explain what happened, and catch
whatever hell they were going to catch.
It was a tough job but it had to be done.
They walked up the road, got to the house, knocked
on the door, and as soon as Blab
saw Freddy he knew something was wrong. He
immediately started screaming and hollering
and wanting to know "What the hell was awrong with
Freddy?". Jerry Massengill, always
being not afraid of anyone or anything, proceeded to
tell Blab about the events that
had led up to Freddy's predicament. Well the more he
explained the more Blab cussed,
but the cussing did not phase Jerry because he kept
on talking and explaining
throughout the entire barrage of chastisement The
more Jerry talked, the more Blab
cussed.
And "Stupid" was the dominant word used by Blab
during his chastisement of the group.
Finally Blab stopped hollering and screaming, put
Freddy in a car, and lit out toward
a doctor Then the mafia each departed heading toward
what they all knew would be their
own minute of hell.
Since the members of the Mafia came from poor
families they each caught hell for
hurting themselves and for destroying their clothes
and shoes during their hillbilly
bobsled ride. The boys knew that money was not
plentiful and that one's
parents/grandparents expected you to take care of
what you had. Waste and wastefulness
was frowned upon so you took care of what you had.
After been given "down the road" for their
misbehavior they each apologized for their
wrecklessness and promised never to do anything that
stupid again. And I actually
think they meant to keep their promises but since
they were an adventurous bunch they
all of course failed to do so. It was hard, in fact
impossible, to stop the dynamic
energy that that group had. And when you have
unthrottled energy, you have trouble.
As for what I can recall about Freddy, he survived
his close encounter of the worst
kind but he had to take it easy and stay out of the
grasp of the Mafia for a few days.
But after a few days he and the Mafia were, as
usual, plotting and scheming again. And
you know what, that made life in Black Mountain FUN.
.................... Nuff said.
Copyright August, 2003 by Fred Lockhart
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