This is a followup to an earlier post wherein I promised that there was more to be said about the old swinging bridge, one of the memories of my childhood and teenage years on the rivers of southern WV. The Old Swinging Bridge Part 2 I don’t remember the river ever getting so high that the water touched the walkway of the old swinging bridge, but then we never had the likes of the floods that have occured in southern West Virginia in recent years. There were steps that led from ground level up to the bridge walkway, which was several feet above ground level. There were times when the paths which lead up to the steps at each end of the bridge were under several inches of water, but seldom were homes threatened. I recall in 1936 when grade school students were carried through the water to the steps so they could cross on the bridge. The highest water that I remember came close enough to the bridge walkway that my father was able to reach down and pluck items from the surface of the water as it roared by. It came up just to the steps to Uncle Ira Stewart’s front porch. His house sat where Mrs. Ira Cook, Sr. now lives. It would have been washed away in more than one of the recent floods. By the time I was in high school, use of the old bridge was purely optional. A new bridge was built farther downstream which accommodated vehicular traffic and a road was built up the opposite side of the river from the old road and connected with the Coon Branch road at the old swinging bridge. The old bridge was falling into disrepair and was dangerous. It was used mainly as a sometimes shortcut and as a source of adventure for teenage boys in the community. It was also an assembly place. A group of boys, day or night, could not pass the old bridge without stopping to sit a spell on her old broken steps or swing from her cables. We often sat on the broken walkway with our legs dangling over the sides while we passed the hours floating worms to the fish in the hole of water between the bridge and the old ford. We hooked fish but I can’t recall anyone raising one from the water up to the bridge and landing it. Another pastime was to lie on the bridge and stare down at the moving water until we got the impression that we were moving upstream and the water was stationary. We described this effect by saying our “head was swimming.” At flood stage the more adventuresome of our gang, yours truly included, would jump off the bridge and swim downstream with the current for perhaps a quarter mile marveling at how fast and how far we could swim. It’s a miracle that we survived those teenage years. There were many homemade boats on the river in the early nineteen hundreds ,and many an owner who failed to secure his craft lost it as he was caught unawares during a sudden cloudburst and accompanying rapid rise in water level. The supreme achievement was to snag one of them as it passed beneath the old swinging bridge. We lived by the code “finders keepers.” If the wait for a better prize became boring, we found other ways to break the monotony. In one flood, we fashioned nooses from hay bailing wire and lassoed debris as it floated under the dilapidated old structure, which by this time was scarcely more than cables and broken planks. As we latched onto heavy logs and such, the force of the current tended to pull us and the bridge downstream while what was left of the old bridge would rotate such that one of its sides became higher than the other. We had to fight for dear life to keep from falling off while we held onto our prize. It's fascinating to imagine what would have happened if one or both cables had broken. We carefully worked one pole and/or plank after another to the shore where we built a pile of wood as big as a school bus. It remained there for months until someone cut it up for firewood. I was gone when they tore the old bridge down. I don’t even know when it happened. There were many old swinging bridges up and down Clearfork, Laurel Fork and the Guyandotte that went the same way. They were a vital part of our past which like the covered bridges of earlier days have become curiosities to younger generations and precious memories for others of us. An aside: My intent is to illustrate a way of life in WV in bygone years through storytelling. This approach can require more space than normal data transmission, and may not even be suitable for this forum. Please let me have your opinions. Don't be bashful, I can take criticism. STAN

STAN, WE'RE FROM THE LOGAN AREA AND REALLY ENJOY YOUR STORIES. YOU'RE A VERY GOOD STORYTELLER SO KEEP IT UP. EUGENE BILLS AND FLORENCE ROVILLARD BILLS

Mr. Browning, I appreciate your 'storytelling' very much. It helps us that never lived in WV a chance to hear how it was in years past. My late husband and his ancestors were from several of the counties of WV. As I read the wonderful stories on this list, I can imagine my husband's family in these situations or similar situations as they raised their families there in the mountains and hollows. My father-in-law didn't talk much about being a child in Mingo county so it is a blessing to hear others on the list talk of growing up and their trials and tribulations of living in WV. Being from Ohio and only visiting WV once a year through the mid 1960's to the mid 1970's I only saw how the people lived in those decades. My daughters and my grandchildren need to know how their ancestors lived. I agree with others who have commented- You must keep up the "stories" to preserve the history of the people. Your stories bring the people to life. Their adventures help to understand the 'ways of the mountains'. I vote you keep on telling your stories- keep allowing us the pleasure of a deeper understanding of the people and their ways. Sincerely, Gloria Damron in Ohio~ This is a followup to an earlier post wherein I promised that there was more to be said about the old swinging bridge, one of the memories of my childhood and teenage years on the rivers of southern WV. The Old Swinging Bridge Part 2 I don’t remember the river ever getting so high that the water touched the walkway of the old swinging bridge, but then we never had the likes of the floods that have occured in southern West Virginia in recent years. There were steps that led from ground level up to the bridge walkway, which was several feet above ground level. There were times when the paths which lead up to the steps at each end of the bridge were under several inches of water, but seldom were homes threatened. I recall in 1936 when grade school students were carried through the water to the steps so they could cross on the bridge. The highest water that I remember came close enough to the bridge walkway that my father was able to reach down and pluck items from the surface of the water as it roared by. It came up just to the steps to Uncle Ira Stewart’s front porch. His house sat where Mrs. Ira Cook, Sr. now lives. It would have been washed away in more than one of the recent floods. By the time I was in high school, use of the old bridge was purely optional. A new bridge was built farther downstream which accommodated vehicular traffic and a road was built up the opposite side of the river from the old road and connected with the Coon Branch road at the old swinging bridge. The old bridge was falling into disrepair and was dangerous. It was used mainly as a sometimes shortcut and as a source of adventure for teenage boys in the community. It was also an assembly place. A group of boys, day or night, could not pass the old bridge without stopping to sit a spell on her old broken steps or swing from her cables. We often sat on the broken walkway with our legs dangling over the sides while we passed the hours floating worms to the fish in the hole of water between the bridge and the old ford. We hooked fish but I can’t recall anyone raising one from the water up to the bridge and landing it. Another pastime was to lie on the bridge and stare down at the moving water until we got the impression that we were moving upstream and the water was stationary. We described this effect by saying our “head was swimming.” At flood stage the more adventuresome of our gang, yours truly included, would jump off the bridge and swim downstream with the current for perhaps a quarter mile marveling at how fast and how far we could swim. It’s a miracle that we survived those teenage years. There were many homemade boats on the river in the early nineteen hundreds ,and many an owner who failed to secure his craft lost it as he was caught unawares during a sudden cloudburst and accompanying rapid rise in water level. The supreme achievement was to snag one of them as it passed beneath the old swinging bridge. We lived by the code “finders keepers.” If the wait for a better prize became boring, we found other ways to break the monotony. In one flood, we fashioned nooses from hay bailing wire and lassoed debris as it floated under the dilapidated old structure, which by this time was scarcely more than cables and broken planks. As we latched onto heavy logs and such, the force of the current tended to pull us and the bridge downstream while what was left of the old bridge would rotate such that one of its sides became higher than the other. We had to fight for dear life to keep from falling off while we held onto our prize. It's fascinating to imagine what would have happened if one or both cables had broken. We carefully worked one pole and/or plank after another to the shore where we built a pile of wood as big as a school bus. It remained there for months until someone cut it up for firewood. I was gone when they tore the old bridge down. I don’t even know when it happened. There were many old swinging bridges up and down Clearfork, Laurel Fork and the Guyandotte that went the same way. They were a vital part of our past which like the covered bridges of earlier days have become curiosities to younger generations and precious memories for others of us. An aside: My intent is to illustrate a way of life in WV in bygone years through storytelling. This approach can require more space than normal data transmission, and may not even be suitable for this forum. Please let me have your opinions. Don't be bashful, I can take criticism. STAN ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message