Joseph Sethas “Joe” Eagle

Joseph Sethas “Joe” Eagle
BIRTH
3 Jul 1880
Duck, Clay County, West Virginia, USA
DEATH
31 Aug 1947 (aged 67)
Duck, Clay County, West Virginia, USA
BURIAL
Eagle Cemetery
Duck, Clay County, West Virginia

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/21591660/joseph_sethas_eagle

Joseph Sethas 'Joe' Eagle a son of C. Conrad 'Coonrod' Eagle, 1847-1935 & Marian E. Wheeler, 1844-1897.

Grandfather Eagle was a man off many talents and loved by all.

Notice the powder horn in the picture on Grandfather Eagle's side....a sign of his father's time.

MEMORIES OF JOSEPH "JOE" SETHAS EAGLE

By Karen Louise Eagle Moman

I remember papapw with a lot of love in my heart. He was always so pleasant and he laughed a great deal of the time. Once he came into the yard, at the Snake Creek, Eagle Farm at Clay, Clay Co., WV., with his hat full of plums he had picked somewhere on the farm. He had brought them to share with the grandchildren. When a young child would start to cry he would be right there with a hug or, "Where's the ducks ? Let's go see the ducks", he would ask. I guess all of us loved to go see the ducks.

In his blacksmith shop I found many interesting items. There were always several 10 gallon crock churns of pickled peaches, beans, corn, beets and who could forget the pickled pigs feet or "trotters" as they called them.

Papapw would be busy at the forge but he kept an eye on us when we were there so we would not get in harm's way. I never remember him losing his patience with us kids. Most impressive, now in my later years, I am reminded that he was never too involved to take time to answer our questions.

The blacksmith shop was a place of wonder for a young child. Papapw would let us take turns pumping the bellows at the fire. I especially loved the swooshing sound the bellows made as it fanned the flames. I shall never forget the sound of his working on horseshoes, shoeing horses, pounding metal to mend a harness, sled runner or a garden tool.

If his daily job was to use the horse to pull a sled we were always welcome to hitch a ride and watch the workings of the farm first hand. Sometimes we even helped by using both of our little hands. Those children old enough WORKED!

Once pappaw made my brother, Oren Roger Eagle (called Roger), a small replica of a sled like the horses pulled. Roger called it his "Peacharino Sled". I have no idea how he ever came up with that name. The making of the sled was a prime example of the love and care pappaw showed to us "Small People." Grandfather would play the banjo or guitar and Roger would dance and pass pappaw's hat around so the "Big People" could pitch pennies into it as he moved to the sounds of the music. Roger had to be careful and not dance into the "line of fire' of the spittoons, as they were not always hit , by the spitter, and the smell minght have knocked him off his little dancing feet.

Roscoe, the black Cocker Spaniel, loved pappaw unconditionally, as all of our dogs love us. My vet tells me not to give my dogs chocolate. However, I remember my dad making a special stop to buy some chocolate candy for Roscoe. Roscoe followed papapw everywhere. When papapaw Joe died Roscoe would go and lie across his grave and moan. This sad (tear your heart out) sight took place each day, for a long while, after papapw's death. Roscoe went each day at the time grandfather had been buried. To this day my eyes fill with tears when I recall this memory.

The making of molasses was another time when papapw showed his love of us grandchildren. A horse walked around and around the mammoth stone grinding wheel. As the cane was crushed the juices trickled into long trays. The metal vats that were used in the process of this job were a source of joy. Here was where the final "Amber Gold" steamed as its pungent smell floated through the air and where all the children wanted to hang out. Grandfather knew we were in danger from the fire that roared under these vats. Instead of demanding that we go away he would gently shoo us away with the promise of a taste of the fruits of their labor as soon as possible.

An Eagle Farm practice I remember was one my dad also practiced. When a dog was bite by a copperhead, rattlesnake, etc. , the dog would be "gatherd up" and held while the nearest milk cow was brought to the dog. A stream of milk would be directed into the dog's mouth. I never questioned this practice as I felt that my pappaw and dad were the smarted men in the world (as I knew it). My assumptiom was that since I had always heard the "Eagle Clan" was of Native American descent that it was apparently a custom passed douwm from tribe to tribe. However, I have NEVER found a link to a Native American line. In the 1980's I started thinking about this practice of a snake bite remedy while I was also tryng to find the meaning of "Ma-knock-u-late the soyel." I called the University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ. I was told by a professor that milk had a substance that had detoxified the snake venom. Well, as I live and breath! Now, let me tell any city folks reading this: There is a differene between a bull and a cow! I AM NOT RECOMMENDING THIS AS A PREVENTION FOR A SNAKE BITE.

Pappaw Eagle, like his father, C. Conrad ‘Coonrod' Eagle, before him, was a man of many talents. My grandfather could do everyhting. If someone wanted something done it was said, "give it to Joe (papapw) or Darc (my father)."

I spent many cherished hours on this farm nestled in the rugged enchanting hills of Clay County, West Virginia.

"MOUNTAIN MUSIC LANGUAGE" Written by : Karen Louise EAGLE Moman IN MEMORY OF MY BELOVED GRANDFATHER "PAPPAW" JOSEPH EAGLE

As a young girl I always looked forward to going to visit my grandparents, Joseph Sethas ‘Joe' Eagle, 1880-1947, & Louisa Mae Davis, 1892, 1978, and kin. My grandparents and kin, like my father, spoke a language I did not hear my mother, and her family, speak. My father, and his kin, spoke what I call "Mountain Music Language." Dad was away from home at war, in later years working, or out in the fields of our Virginia home (we were usually somewhere close working, but we were not always talking). My ears would grow "hongry' for Clay Co., WV "music." I knew when I arrived at my grandparents, on Snake Creek, Duck, Clay Co., WV that every person would be singing to one another (actually talking, but it was music to my ears). I was like "Old Blue," on point. My ears would stand up and I would absorb every word that was sung.

My Pappaw Eagle would come, in from a field, with his "Mountain William fedora" full of plums, blackberries, pawpaws, gooseberries, beechnuts, etc. and break out in a full rich mountain song as he neared the house, " I've "brung" my babies "somthang."

In my teens, I heard that music called "hillbilly language." That term was often spoken as if they were making fun of my kin and I was deeply offended. How dare they slur my beloved! I was also called, at times, a hillbilly's daughter. Let me tell you right now, I call myself, and all of my kin "Mountain Williams." We are "Hill People with CLASS!"

In 1980, while working at the University of Arizona in Tucson, Pima Co., AZ., a man would often stand outside my office door. This went on for about three weeks. The man never made eye contact he just listened when I spoke. This bothered me so I went to my supervisor, Dr. Kahle, Prof. of Quantitative Studies, and asked if he would find out the reason for this strange behavior. My supervisor laughed which I did not view as a nice act, on his part (I didnot realize, at the time, that he was aware of the events taking place). Later Prof. Kahle (I hope I am remembering the name correctly) called me into his office. I was introduced to "the listener" with a list of degrees after his name. It turned out he was a professor of linguistics, on a sabbatical, from Oxford University, United Kingdom, to the University of Arizona. The professor said he could tell, by a person's speech, their homeland, usually within 150 miles. He declared that my manner of speaking had him puzzled. The professor had asked that I not be told he was "listening to me " or that anyone tell him where I was born. The professor told my coworkers that the knowledge that I was being monitored might cause me to change my normal way of speaking. He told me that his guess, after much observation, was that I was from WALES! . I told him I had been born in West Virginia. "Therein lies the answer, " he said. It seems, according to him, what people call "HILLBILLY LANGUAGE" is actually a mixture of Old English, and several other early dialects etc. He apologized for causing me concern. The professor was sorry that people made fun of this beautiful "combined language." As it turns out, my Immigrant Davis ancestor is from Wales, Rev. William Davis, b. 1664, Lanstephan, County Radnor, WALES, d. 1745, Shrewsbury, Monmouth Co NJ. William Davis was a plebe at St. Mary's Hall (Oxford University), who matriculated 30 Jun 1682, at the age of 18.

["Thanks and appreciation was given, by the author of "DAVIS : THE SETTLERS OF SALEM, WEST VIRGINIA, author-SUSIE DAVIS NICHOLSON, " to: Deborah Davis Swingle and her father, Carl H. Davis, for providing a copy of REV. WILLIAM DAVIS' book, "JESUS THE CRUCIFIED MAN," and to DEBORAH and HER SISTER (not named) for their research in WALES, and at OXFORD UNIVERSITY, which provided the true identity of our ancestor, REV. WILLIAM DAVIS"]

Following are some examples of the language that, to me, was the "Mountain Music, of the Hills of Clay Co., WV."

Music sung by my grandfather, Joseph Sethas 'Joe' Eagle, 1880-1947, Louisa Mae Davis, 1892- 1978, and other local kin:

Wheel barrie

I heerd

Poosh the gate

Warsh Day---Wash Day

Would you wrech me the book?

A poke of candy---A bag of candy

Box your ears

Tote the box---carry the box

Snake Crick

Boosh

Craw dad---Crayfish

Dreckly---In a little while (My Dad would say, "When I tell you to do something - I mean NOW not dreckly!" I was a bit confused when I found out the word was Old English for DIRECTLY- meaning NOW)

Sangin'--The process of digging ginseng

I packed her to the store-I took her to the store

Trotters---Pickled pigs feet

Warshed-washed

I spect- I suspect

Quick study

Dil-a-terry

Kerseen-kerosene

Far, as in stoke the "far'-fire

Ten-sin-sto---Five & Dime Store/Ten Cent Store

A drink of "Pop"

A sep---A sip

Stove-up--Stiff joints

Shet, as in "Shet my mouth"

Arn/Arnin', as with heavy cast iron devices, that were hooked and unhooked from a handle. My Grann, Louisa Mae (Davis) Eagle, would set about four "arns' on the "far" (actually her kitchen stove-driven by wood and a dash of ‘kerseen,' at times)---Iron/ Ironing

Ma-knock-u-late the soyel-- When transplanting: The act of being certain that some of the soil, in which the specimen original grew, is sufficently entrenched around its roots when a plant is moved to a new spot of earth. I might add I have never found this word in the English langauge or any person that has ever previously heard the word.

Plantin' by the siens-- Following the moon's phases to plant crops. This is very important, since failing to do so will not provide the best crop. If planted in the wrong sign of the moon some items will be more leaves and not much fruit/ vegetable. Root crops are especially in need of such knowledge. Seeds must also be planted at the right time of day/month to get the best effect of the magnetic force field of the universe. Our home was never without an "Old Farmers Almanac," which always hung, on a nail, in the kitchen. Once after my dad, Darcie Ray Eagle, moved to Arizona he told a local man about "plantin' by the siens" and the man just leaned back his head and laughed. This disbeliever planted his tomato plants. They were the same variety as those planted, in the right phase of the moon, by my dad. My dad's plants were laden with large, rich, and luscious tomatoes while the other man's were mostly leaves. My dad took the "tomato challenged man" many tomatoes that season and written instructions regarding the times to "plant by the siens".

My lHarvard educated sister, Janice Marie Eagle, said, "In linguistics, it's a 17th- century phenomenon to see how spoken words were captured orally, by phonetics, not orthographically through spelling. I recall vividly the moment forty years ago when I learned in a study carrel at the University of Arizona library that my father's people spoke "Shakespearean English": while researching for a linguistics class, I read to my amazement in a technical journal article that language of the 1600s (Shakespeare's time in England) walked into the mountains from Maine to Alabama with early English immigrants like our Davis ancestors, and did not change in the intervening four hundred years. There on the page were samples in all the categories I had heard in West Virginia

• **doubled images for emphasis, like "widow woman," "play toy," "slicky slide," "hidey hole";
  • *archaic verb forms, like "I seen" and "I taken";
    • extinct individual terms, like "monoculate the soil."
    • And, of course, all those terms like "chim'ly" for "chimney" which drifted from their moorings without the corrective anchor of the written word over the centuries.

Add to that the Southern Appalachian accent and a heady verbal stew is served! As an English major in my freshman year at Radford College for Women (now Radford University), I struggled mightily to unkink my pronunciation. By Thanksgiving, I could say "How now brown cow" without the distinctive twang I had arrived with, and was able to arch long i's like "mine" in the back of the palate instead of delivering it flattened in the long Southern style. I still can't say "toast" or "coast" without accent and I became aware just last month that I say "dawg" instead of "dog." None of this matters unless you purport to know the language, as an English teacher inevitably must, when teaching outside her dialect region.

As an aside, the hoity-toity British accent of today developed in England AFTER the earliest American immigrants left there. In the early 1800s a London actor affected the pronunciation in a long- running, smash-hit play; it was adopted by the upper classes and trickled down from there. Even today, the working classes sound closer to our American pronunciation. So we didn't lose our English accent--- they lost it, over there! I did not make this up, as the saying goes, I swan/I swanie ("I swear" in archaic WV English.)"

End of my sister's statement, as if I needed to note that fact.

As you can tell by reading my, Karen EAGLE Moman's, previous posted data, I did not reach the higher halls of academia, therefore, I had to put my sister's, above stated, remarks in my "berry- picking pail" and shake it around awhile before I understood all the meaning.

I loved Clay Co., WV where they ma-knock-u-lated the soyel, "planted by the siens" dug ginseng, and mayapple cracked beechnuts, ate pawpaws, gooseberries, made and ate molasses (I loved watching the horse turn the grindstone when the molasses was being made), milked the cows, shod the horses (I greatly enjoyed my pappaw's blacksmith shop), churned buttermilk, made butter, gathered the eggs made lye soap, laughed a lot, and especially sang that "Mountain Music Language."

May Clay Co. WV be forever alive with that "Mountain Music Language."

Karen EAGLE Moman arizonaeagle1502@q.com

For now you can find Oren Joe Eagle at: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=67945240

Family Members Parents Photo C. Conrad Eagle 1847–1937

Photo Marion E. Wheeler Eagle 1844–1897

Spouse