When I first got the opportunity to write this piece for the newsletter, it took a few days for me to think about what I would write about. After 30 years of writing every day, it’s been a hot minute since I last wrote an article, as I stopped writing nearly six months ago. Then I remembered the old adage: “Write what you know.”
A love of political debate got me into writing, but a love of local history has kept me there. Now, nearly 30 years and three newspaper start-ups later, printed newspapers have about run their course. As a lover of the printed word, I hate to see it go, but history will still be written, just as it is here in this newsletter.
Local history is something other than what makes the bestsellers’ list. Oh once in a while, you’ll get a “Look Homeward Angel,” but those are few and far between. But history, only if you fancy it up as a historical fictional novel like the works of authors like Bill O’Reilly and David McCullough. Still, there’s a place for local history.
When I started years ago thinking about writing a book about my experience in the newspaper business, it really wasn’t a local history book, but when I got serious about five years ago, I knew that’s exactly what I wanted it to be: a local history book. So, “Dateline: Small Town, USA” was born and will carry the history of Buncombe County, and mostly the North Buncombe area from 2003 to 2020 for years to come.
I was happy to be the historian for events, people, and happenings in the Buncombe and Madison area for 30 years. It was a job that I loved, but all good things must come to an end. Looking back from my 60s now, I see what a wonderful life it’s been. Here’s one short story from my book:
…There had been a murder near the Petersburg area of the county. A crossroads community between Marshall and Mars Hill. The sheriff’s office wouldn’t let anyone near the area. My business partner in the Madison County Sentinel, Fred Hughes, had enlisted the services of Shelton Laurel resident Jimmy Joe Shelton to fly us over the area. Shelton owned a Cessna 172 with an 182 engine, which he flew out of a doglegged grass strip in the mountainous region of the Shelton Laurel community.
The word was years before I met Shelton, the navy wanted him to fly for them, but Shelton’s mother begged him to stay, or they would lose their farm. He never went. I don’t know how accurate the story is as I never checked into it.
Anyway, we met Shelton at his cow pasture runway, and he started asking questions about our weight in order to figure out if Hughes and I would, one, meet the weight limit of the aircraft and, two, where we would sit in the plane as I was about 280 pounds at the time. “If my going would put the flight at risk, I’ll stay behind,” I said. Not because of any hesitation about flying, as I explained earlier, I love flying. “Son,” Shelton said matter of factly, “I’m not doing anything that would put me at risk, must less you!”
We climbed into his plane, with me in the shotgun or co-pilot’s seat, and he said he was going to run it down the field and see how it felt. His airstrip was not quite a straight shot, with a little dogleg to the left that had to be made in the middle of takeoff. He got up to about 50 knots or about 55 mph after making it through the dogleg and then throttled back. He thought it was good to go, so we returned to where we started and got another run at it, but then he committed to the takeoff. As soon as we were airborne, he took a slight turn to the left to miss the ridgeline in front of us, and we headed toward the Petersburg area.
After flying over the area where the Madison County Sheriff’s Department was searching to let us take our pictures, Shelton decided he would show some of his flying skills, starting with a low fly-by of downtown Marshall flying over the French Broad River from south to north, maybe 400 to 500 feet above the river.
Next, he asked if we’d ever landed on a freeway and lined up for an approach on the 25/70 section of the highway near Long Branch Road. He had throttled back adjusted flaps, and we were about 250 feet from doing a touch-and-go when a car popped up over the hill. He aborted the landing and added power. He also did some steep climbs and turns over the county bus garage and told us to watch the garage. Sure enough, several people came out of the garage, indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’d put on a show for them. Hughes later told me he’d gotten airsick from the maneuvers, but I loved it!
Interested in getting my book?
For anyone interested in getting my book, you can send a check for $25 made out to Mountain Sentinel, PO Box 2293, Weaverville, NC 28787, and we will more than happily send you a copy. You can also call 828-712-6117 with a card and we’ll get it to you faster.
