Travel + Leisure magazine
July 2002

Carolina On My Mind
by Shane Mitchell 
 

...Since 1945, the Caro-Mi dining room in Tryon has been a lodestone for those who hanker after golden-fried spring chicken or sautéed mountain rainbow trout. Old-timers get there when the doors open, at 5 p.m., to claim a red-checked table; of course, it's also agreeable to wait your turn in a rocker on the log porch next to a rock-tumbled creek that drowns out the traffic on 176. Annette and Charles Stafford, the current owners, haven't changed a thing. The pine-plank walls are plastered with faded felt college pennants, the women's bathroom sign says YES MAM, and Preston Vernon, the chef since 1958, is still behind the grill. The welcome is genuine and the vinegar slaw, macaroni salad, buttermilk biscuits, and fried apples that accompany my order of brine-cured country ham are worth the hair-raising descent. Annette plops down at my table to chat. "Have you tried the peanut butter—chocolate shake at Ward's up in Saluda? My oh my."

How could anyone pass through Saluda without stopping at Ward's Grill? It's the town's heartbeat. Under the awning is a forest-green bench for retired gents who want to sit in the shade and catch the breeze. Next door is Thompson's Grocery, Market & Grill, where 73-year-old Charlie Ward sells Vidalia-onion dressing, sweet-potato butter, crickets and red worms (for bait), cans of Betty Ann "creecy greens," Society snuff, and banana Moon Pies. By noon, Ward's red vinyl banquettes are usually packed and laughter bounces off the pressed-tin ceiling as regulars order corn dogs and root beer floats. While waiting there for my cousins Harry and Jane Gregorie, who still come up here from Charleston every summer, I watch the short-order cook slap burgers silly on the grill. And, yes, Annette is right. The thick shakes—made with Mayfield ice cream from Athens, Tennessee—are dynamite. Harry, Jane, and I plot strategy for the Saturday after the Fourth of July, when, every year, this railroad town's population swells to almost 10,000 for Coon Dog Day. As we leave, Charlie Ward pokes his head through the store's side entrance and calls after us: "Y'all come back." Really, he does.

For the past 40 years in Saluda, preparations for Coon Dog Day have taken precedence over national holidays, weddings, and funerals. Think Best in Show crossed with Petticoat Junction and you're close. One year, a local couple got married just before the festival's big parade but didn't immediately depart for their honeymoon because they had dogs entered in the competition. (The bride went straight from white tulle to khaki camouflage.) Coon Dog Day always kicks off with a pancake breakfast at the firehouse, followed by the procession up Main Street. We position ourselves around the bend from the grandstand, where Mayor Kim Talbot greets the crowd: "Welcome to Coon Dog Day! If you ain't here, you ain't nobody!" Fire trucks, antique tractors, and decorated floats roll past. Grand marshal Myrtle T. Phillips waves to the crowd from an open convertible. The Sweet Tea Queens from Spartanburg throw Mardi Gras beads. A flatbed sponsored by the Saluda Sittin' & Sippin' Society carries a party crowd dressed in old-time outfits—Victorian-era straw boaters, parasols, corsets—under a banner that reads: THE SUMMER PEOPLE, 1896. The Dogmobile chases the Coonmobile, and the first Miss Coon Dog (1963), Mary Margaret "Dooder" Sexton, née Blackwell, still looks damn good in her rhinestone crown. Then the loosey-goosey, floppy-eared hounds put in an appearance. It's hard to miss their distinctive bawl, which threads through the sound track of every chain-gang flick from Cool Hand Luke to O Brother, Where Art Thou? Cousin Harry points out the different breeds—redbone, black and tan, Plott, bluetick, Treeing Walker—as the pack of overall-clad owners and their champion dogs march past. Tree Talking Ty and Tar River Jill look like solid contenders.

Coon hunting has always been a little rough around the edges. It started as a frontier sport: the Plott hound was named for a German breeder who settled in North Carolina in 1750; the Marquis de Lafayette gave George Washington seven Grand Bleu de Gascogne hounds (progenitors of the American bluetick) in 1785. And even though they usually ride around in battered pickup trucks, breeders can command up to $20,000 for top dogs. The all-night field hunt isn't my cup of sweet tea, but I do catch up with Coon Dog Queen Dooder. A trim brunette, she now owns Dooder's Hair Care on Macedonia Road. I want to know how she got elected. She laughs: "Ever'body put pennies in jars to vote for certain girls and raise money to buy coons and turn them loose in the area." Fault me for being a city slicker, but I ask why anyone in his right mind would do that. Dooder sets me straight: "Lots of people eat 'em. My first husband, Roy, said coon tastes like venison."

Another dumb question: Why is the Blue Ridge blue? Jimi Hendrix had the answer: purple haze. The Cherokee tribe called the area shaconage, meaning "mountains of the blue smoke." From the balcony off my room at the Sourwood Inn, a handsome cedar-and-stone retreat 10 miles north of Asheville, I watch the surrounding peaks soften to indigo as the sun dips lower in the sky and an evening mist drifts up from Reems Creek Valley. From here, it's a quick hop, skip, and jump onto the Blue Ridge Parkway to reach Craggy Gardens at milepost 364.6. Standing at a lookout just beyond Mount Mitchell, munching on a Moon Pie, I can see darkening wrinkles between tight ridges carved by rainfall and seismic turmoil. At 6,684 feet, Mount Mitchell (milepost 355.3) is the highest point in the eastern United States. It's named for Dr. Elisha Mitchell (no relation to me), a geologist from the University of North Carolina who measured the mountain in 1835. On neighboring peaks and in fertile coves—once favorite hunting grounds of the Cherokee—black bear, bobcats, and turkeys still roam free...




The Gaffney Ledger
July 18, 2005

Saturday’s parade a peachy hit
By SCOTT BAUGHMAN
Ledger Staff Writer

With the roar of engines and the twang of disco, the 2005 South Carolina Peach Festival Peach Parade got off to a rousing start Saturday morning as participants marched down Limestone Street.

Both mini-bikes and gokarts from local Shriner's clubs provided the horsepower while the Sweet Tea Queens, complete with hot pink and lime green dresses, blared disco music from their float.

In all, about 30 groups and individuals had floats in this year's procession.

"I thought it was great," said Will Hawkins, who brought along his wife, Kelly, and 2-year-old daughter Clara. "My daughter enjoyed it very much. She waved to all the participants and thought it was really fun. I loved the Hejaz guys, on their Formula I-looking gokarts.

I was amazed at how fast they could go in those little things."

The crowd also thrilled to the hijinks of the local Hillbillies club, with its vintage 1930s cars and trucks. They may not have been in pristine condition, but at least they were running — despite a few startling backfires.

Like the rest of the festival, the parade held fond memories for many Gaffney residents.

"I've lived in Gaffney since I was like 1 year old, so I remember running out after the candy and things they throw from the floats myself," Hawkins added. "And I wasn't concerned about my daughter running out into the parade. The drivers all seemed very cautious and we watched her very close. She loved getting the free candy very much."

And she enjoyed seeing her uncle.

"My brother Matt did a great job playing his guitar in the parade on one of the church floats," Hawkins added.

This year's grand marshal for the event was Captain Hardy Paschal, the executive officer for Charlie Company 4th 118th Mechanized Infantry Division - Gaffney's local Army National Guard unit.

The unit was deployed to Kosovo from July of 2004 until February.

"Our mission over there was one of peacekeeping," Paschal said. "We went to help them maintain order while that territory is going through transition."

After returning home, Paschal headed back to his job with the Greenville County Probation and Parole Board. Gaffney was far from his mind when fellow officer Robbie Hill contacted him about being the marshal for the parade.

"I wasn't really sure what he was talking about when he first let me know," Paschal explained. "I've heard of the festival before but we haven't really been involved much."

Upon learning of previous parade marshals, like William Shatner, Paschal became much more interested.

"I had a great time," he said after touring downtown on the back of a Mustang convertible.


Asheville Citizen-Times
September 6, 2005

 
The Sweet Tea Queens of Spartanburg, SC dance on their float during the Monday,
Sept 5, 2005 King Apple Parade in downtown Hendersonville.
Steve Dixon photo
 

Hendersonville Times News
September 6, 2005 12:51AM

Kids have a ball at annual Apple Festival procession
Jennie Jones Giles
Times-News Staff Writer

Young and old, in strollers and wheelchairs, residents and visitors crowded Main Street on Monday to view the King Apple Parade, the crowning event of the N.C. Apple Festival.
"Everything's cool in a parade," said 8-year-old Shanice Hill, who attends Clear Creek Elementary School.
"I've never seen a crowd like this before," said festival director and County Manager David Nicholson. "People are 10 and 12 deep."
Coldwell Banker was the winner for the best commercial float and Balfour Baptist Church took top honors in the nonprofit division.
But the best float was the last float carrying the Apple Ambassador, said 6-year-old Cameron Wood of Horse Shoe.
"It's pretty and I like the girls' dresses on that float," she said. Brother Tanner Wood, 7, came to the parade to see motorcycles.
When the parade ended, he stuck to his original choice. The best part of a parade is the motorcycles, he said. Daphne Hill, 10, sister of Shanice, came to watch the bands.
"One day I want to play the drums," she said.
As each band passed by, her face lit up with a big smile and her hands began tapping out the rhythm.
Eric Contreras, 8, enjoys the costumes, and wanted to see Sponge Bob. He got his wish when the Shriners came through with Sponge Bobs.
The first big grins on the faces of Eric and his friends, 8-year-old Arnold Solalinze and 6-year-old Joshua, came when the antique cars filled the street, horns blowing.
All seven children clapped with the rest of the crowd as veterans marched down the street and fire trucks came by, one after the other. They were in awe of a Hummer Limousine and "Oh my gosh," was heard six times when the float carrying the voluptuous Sweet Tea Queens passed.
"That guy has a snake," Shanice said in amazement when the Roving Science float arrived.
"I like her dress," Cameron said as she waved at Little Miss Blue Ridge. Cameron's most energetic waves were for the beauty queens.
Eric, Joshua and Arnold enjoyed the antique tractors.
"Look at that outfit," Daphne said in awe of Adam and Eve dressed in an outfit of leaves on the Fletcher Academy float.
By the end of the parade, the children's favorite parade entries were motorcycles, floats with girls dancing, the float with the puppy on it and the dancing policeman and fire chief.
An estimated 225,000 people attended the four days of the N.C. Apple Festival this year, Nicholson said, down slightly from years' past because of rising gas prices and a gas shortage.
"But vendors and merchants said sales were good and everybody's happy," he said.
The remaining N.C. Apple Festival 2005 T-shirts that were not sold at the festival will be donated to Hurricane Katrina victims through the American Red Cross, Nicholson said.

     
 

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