Friend and Legend (1994)

Friend and Legend Grace Toney Edwards Back in the 1970s when I was young and naive, I had never known anyone named Loyal. I knew a Faith, a Hope, a Charity, even a Chastity, but no Loyal. When I first heard the name Loyal Jones, I thought it was an allegory, representing, maybe, patriotic Everyman, with a capital E. However, the signature on the letter inviting me to attend the Appalachian Studies Workshop at Berea College appeared to be that of a real flesh, blood, and bones person. With some trepidation I responded affirmatively to the invitation to come to Berea and waited anxiously to meet Loyal Jones, Mr. Patriotic Everyman. The concept ofAppalachian Studies was also new to me back in those pioneer days. I felt comfortable with familiar disciplines like English, history, and biology, but I wasn't too sure about Appalachian Studies. However, since I had been a student and was then a teacher at Appalachian State University, I thought there must be some connection worth exploring. Maybe Mr. Patriotic Everyman could help me figure it out! Perhaps you recognize that I am being somewhat facetious, for I had studied with and worked with Dr. Cratis Williams, whose love for and knowledge of Appalachia are legendary; but quite honestly, I knew very little about the discipline of Appalachian Studies and had no notion of the vast array of material, both oral and written, and the great stable of writers, storytellers, and singers that lay ahead for me to discover. That discovery was directly linked to Loyal Jones, who met his new crew of students on a sunny Sunday afternoon in June, 1974, at Grace Toney Edwards teaches English at Radford University in Virginia, and is director of the newly established Appalachian Regional Studies Center. 30 Kettering Residence Hall right here on the Berea campus. We were a group of about twenty-five and we came from as far south as Broward County, Florida, and from as far north as Detroit, Michigan. We were a fairly equal mix of genders, and of public school and college teachers, with two or three graduate students thrown in. Our ages ranged from about twenty-two to sixty-two, with most of us falling into the thirtysomethings. We may not have looked like college freshmen, but we came bearing pillows and blankets, desk lamps and radios, family pictures and stationery, Cheerios and tea bags. We had signed on for the long haul—six full weeks. And there to smooth our transition was Loyal Jones, Director of the Appalachian Center and the Appalachian Studies Workshop. We were not his first summer group of teacher/students—he'd had a couple of groups before us—so he knew some of us would fret about the tiny cubicles we were moving into; some would cry when our families left us; and some would head for the gym or track or bar with a glorious sense of freedom. Whatever our needs, Loyal was there, long, lanky, and lithe of movement, quick to smile, full of infectious laughter, and bearing a lilt in his voice that sounded like music. He didn't look like Everyman at all, and he didn't act a bit like an allegory! In the weeks that followed, Loyal and his cadre of excellent teachers shepherded us through Appalachian poetry and fiction, folktales and raucous jokes, ballads and lovesongs, hymns and sermons, geography and history, education and religion, arts and crafts. We visited craftsman William McClure on his Rockcastle County farm; toured Bybee Pottery and brought home cups and bowls; went to Over-the-Rhine in Cincinnati to see an urban Appalachian neighborhood; immersed ourselves in the Renfro Valley Fiddlers Convention. I took photos there of the legendary Sam McGhee jamming in the parking lot, of Mac Wiseman performing on stage with his four-year-old grandson, of Loyal Jones sitting on the ground amid his students explaining one of the fine points of a fiddling competition. I still show those slides at least once every semester as part of a program entided "Appalachia: A Journey," which serves as an introduction to virtually any study of the region. Not only the inspiration for...