My friends - Today, we are looking at another of the delightful essays composed by the late Dr. Gordon Wilson. This one comes form his little book, "Fidelity Folks" and is entitled, 'East Side - West Side', referring, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, to the subtle differences between the land and the people who resided on the west and east sides of Calloway County. Dr. Wilson was an "east-sider", since Fidelity was the village of New Concord, where he was born and raised. Dr. Wilson's ability to conceptualize and reduce to writing those simple pleasures and attributes of an era gone by have made these essays one of the most positively commented upon series that I have brought to the lists. I expect to be about fully recovered from this pesky respiratory ailment in another day or two, and I will hope to be able to bring a miscellaneous file offering to the List in the next few days. As is now customary, there will be no data posts tomorrow or on the weekend. -B +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ EAST SIDE - WEST SIDE -Dr. Gordon Wilson “Fidelity Folks” The county where I lived early became divided into east side and west side. The west side was fertile and level, with soil especially adapted to the raising of the big black tobacco that was for generations the chief money crop. Though the roads were poor, they at least led across level stretches to the county seat and allowed people to make this journey without killing their horses with fatigue. Young people on the west side thus came to know something about town life and felt at ease whenever they ventured forth on Saturdays or county court days or when candidates were to speak, On the east side the plateau broke down into rough hills, with exposures of red mud and washy, sandy banks. Going to town was a severe task, not to be attempted except after long planning. The east-siders were rugged individualists, always suspicious of the better-dressed west-siders as well as of the city folks. When some country-looking fellow came into the county seat, he was usually branded without investigation as from the east side. And long after the west-siders had put up modern houses and bought rubber-tired buggies, the log houses were still plentiful on the east side, and families made the long journey to the county seat in farm wagons or, at best, old-fashioned steel­tired buggies. In spite of the Sunday admonitions to love those who despitefully used us, I felt a keen disdain of the smart-alecs from the county seat and the west side who drifted into our community and looked down on us. We may not have been so stylish as they and may not have been so much at ease, but we could plow corn the longest summer's day without batting an eye; we could lift at the end of a handstick until our eyes bulged; we could cut tobacco all day in a temperature of a hundred in the shade. Our hair did need cutting a little oftener than it was cut, but we could allow a good-sized boy to swing his weight on it and never wince. And our daddies usually owned the farms they lived on and, like Longfellow's village blacksmith, "looked the whole world in the face," and for the same reason, "for they owed not any man." Old Fidelity was poor but proud, It had never been other than a small village, but, like so many of us, it had seen better days. As long as the railroad kept away from the county seat, that is, until 1891, Fidelity remained much as it had been in pioneer days, a self-sufficient village. Then came the railroad, and gradually the village began to show signs of deteriorating. Proud yet, in spite of being off the railroad, it was lacking in any importance except locally. Some of the citizens moved to the county seat or on to even more remote places. Enough ties were left, however, to draw many old-timers back, especially in summer. Heads of families often came back to show their children, born elsewhere, just what Fidelity had been like in the old days. Local citizens, proud of their city company, brought them to church and Sunday School. One returned native dropped a dollar into the collection plate and almost created a scene. If any of our visitors could be induced to talk, they were asked to teach the adult Bible class or comment on the lesson after the classes had reassembled. Most of them declined graciously and preferred to sit in their old places and listen to the same old comments that were being made before their exodus. Housewives vied with each other in doing their fanciest cooking and showing the visitors a good time. We polished up on the grammar we had learned in the Fidelity school; we also remembered our best manners, such as they were. In every way we tried to make a good impression on the people who had come to see us and tried also to hide a little of the contempt we felt for people who lived outside the Fidelity neighborhood. If visitors came on week days, we sometimes took them to see the haunted house, over on Panther Creek. Or we drove down to Marse Jeffy's tobacco factory to listen to the Negroes sing as they worked in the stemming room. Sulphur Springs, with its alluring woods and fine spring water, was always on our itinerary. Rarely we gave a party for our company, but that was only when the visitors were all young people. Most of the people who sought us out on the east side were family groups, That meant a weekend visit, with many of us having to sleep three a bed or even sleep on the floor. I got so much experience then that I can still stretch out on the ground in a pup tent and go to sleep as if I were on the downiest couch a poet ever raved about. Viewed several decades later, the distinction between east-siders and west-siders seems pretty small. All of us were crude, east and west alike; all of us were poorly educated; none of us had traveled more than a county or two away; nearly all of us were hedged in by inherited prejudices and taboos. A visitor from a more enlightened area would have found us equally interesting and equally funny. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~