The Melungeons
Paul Converse
Southern
Collegian
December 1912
Clinch is the name of a range of mountains of some height and local
prominence that run through upper East Tennessee and Southwest Virginia
about midway between the Alleghenies and Cumberland. To the east of the
Clinch range lies a region in which the water courses have worn for
themselves broad, gently rolling and fertile valleys while the
intervening ridges have been worn back until they are low and of
relatively little importance. To the west, however, for a distance of
25 or 30 miles lies a region which is, geologically speaking, too young
for the waterways to have cut anything except deep and narrow valleys.
Hence we find there a topography of alternating steep ridges and narrow
valleys and there narrow strips of level valley land.
The fifth valley to the west of Clinch Mountain is the Blackwater
valley, which lies between Newman’s Ridge on the southeast and Powell’s
Mountain on the northwest. This valley is about 26 miles long,
extending the length of Newman’s Ridge, from Howard’s Quarters in
Claiborne County, Tennessee, through Hancock County, in the same State,
to the Blackwater salt works in Lee County, Virginia. The southern end
of this valley is narrow, but it widens out toward the north and makes
room for several fertile mountain farms, and although it attains no
great width it is unusually straight, as mountain valleys go, and if a
railroad should ever be built through this section, it will probably
follow this route. The southern end of this valley is drained by
Sycamore Creek, flowing southwestward through primeval forests of oak
and hemlock which cover the precipitous northern slope of Newman’s
Ridge and the more gentle slope of Powell’s Mountain. The northern end
is drained by Blackwater Creek, which winds its way leisurely
northeastward through narrow strips of verdant meadow land. Here, along
the banks of this sparkling stream and on the top and eastern slope of
Newman’s Ridge, is the home of the Melungeons, far famed not only for
their lawlessness and the number of their bloody feuds, but for the
mystery surrounding their ancestry and their peculiarities in general.
The word “Melungeon” is said to belong to the vernacular of East
Tennessee, but the Melungeons are probably better known in New England
than they are in the neighboring counties of their native State. The
name (sometimes spelled Malungeon) is said to be derived from the
French “Melange,” meaning mixture or medley, and this is generally
accepted as the correct derivation. But it has been suggested (by Lucy
S. V. King, writing for the Nashville American) that the name was
derived from “Melanism,” a word of Greek origin, denoting an excess of
black pigment in the skin.
But let the origin of their name be what it may, the Melungeons have
been and are still a peculiar people. They are as different from their
neighbors, the mountain whites, who are the purest descendents of the
Scotch Irish and English colonists known today on the American
continent, as they are from the Pennsylvania Dutch or the Connecticut
Yankee. They are of swarthy complexion, with prominent cheek bones,
jet-black hair, generally straight but at times having a slight
tendency to curl, and the men have heavy black beards. They have
deep-set dark brown eyes. Their frames are well built and some of the
men are fine specimens of physical manhood. They are seldom fat. Their
lips are not noticeably thicker nor their feet broader than those of
pure Caucasians, and although their hair is sometimes wavy it is
seldom, if ever, kinky. Some of the small boys with their uncombed
hair, dirty faces and wide, staring eyes look like young Indians fresh
from their smoky wigwams. The girls, however, with their brown eyes,
rosy cheeks and heavy black locks are good examples of natural beauty.
The language of these people has many interesting and peculiar idioms
but does not seem to differ much from that used in other remote rural
sections of East Tennessee.
These are some of the more marked characteristics of the pure
Melungeons, but the typical physical characteristics are gradually
disappearing as outsiders intermarry with them or as they venture out
into the outside world to lose their identity. For from this parent
colony in Hancock County, Tennessee, they have emigrated to several
nearby counties and many are reported to be living in the Cumberland
Mountains in Bledsoe, Van Buren, Franklin, Marion, and White counties,
and near Dayton in Rhea County a colony of 200 is reported, among whom
“Noel” is the predominating name. The theory has also been advanced
that the “strange people of the Ozarks” are an offshoot of the
Melungeons. But to say the least, this is unproved.
The origin of these peculiar people is an unsolved mystery, although
many have tried to trace their ancestry back to some definite race or
locality. Some say that they are the remnant of Sir Walter Raleigh’s
lost colony and others that they are the descendents of some ancient
colony of refugees fro Venice, Servia, or Portugal. Some of the
Melungeons themselves claim such an origin. Those in Rhea County claim
to be of Servian descent and those in Hancock County say that they are
of Portuguese extraction.
Judge Louis Shepherd, of Chattanooga, some years ago had an important
case in which he established by a tradition existing among these people
but without historical proof, that they are of Portuguese ancestry. His
theory is that they are descended from the ancient Phoenicians, who
settled Carthage about 850 B.C., probably best known to the average
reader through their famous general Hannibal. From Carthage they moved
westward to Morocco and from Morocco they crossed the Strait of
Gibraltar to southern Portugal. Here they resided for some time, and
from this group Shakespeare’s Othello was descended. A colony of the
Moors, it is claimed, crossed the Atlantic Ocean prior to the
Revolutionary War and settled on the northern part of the South
Carolina coast, where they multiplied and amassed some property. A
number are said to have resided near Spartanburg, S. C., during the war
of independence. The South Carolinians, however, would not receive them
on terms of equality and at times excluded their children from the
schools, on the ground that they were negroes. At that time South
Carolina levied a per capita tax on free negroes. It is said that the
continued attempts to collect this tax from these strange people led
them to emigrate in a body and cross the Great Smoky Mountains a part
of the Allegheny chain, beyond which they penetrated deep into the
trackless and uninhabited wilderness and finally settled in the remote
Blackwater Valley. Here they lived unmolested until the Scotch Irish,
spreading westward fro the Watauga settlements, in Tennessee,
discovered them in the closing years of the eighteenth century.
This is quite a fine theory, but most people are more prosaic and hold
the Melungeons to be a mixed race, having Indian, Negro, and Caucasian
blood in their veins. This the word “Melungeon” itself would indicate
and the Bureau of Ethnology at Washington classifies them as a branch
or offshoot of the Croatan Indians of North Carolina, who are a people
of obscure and mixed descent in whose veins Indian blood predominates.
It is evident from the belief existing among the Melungeons and from
more recent emigrants that they came to Tennessee largely from North
and not South Carolina. Old Beatty Collins, a veteran of the
Civil War and one of the most intelligent and respected of his tribe,
says that his grandfather came to the Blackwater valley from North
Carolina more than 100 years ago with the first settlers and took up a
large tract of land there. Also a man named Stuart, said to be a
Melungeon, has recently moved to Hawkins County, Tennessee, from North
Carolina, and others are said to still reside in that State. The
Sycamore end of this valley, known locally as “Snake Hollow,” is of
much more recent settlement. The inhabitants, however, came largely
from the Blackwater country, and people still in the prime of life can
remember when the first settlers moved into this narrow valley, made
their little clearings on the steep mountain sides, erected their crude
log huts and planted their little patches of corn and tobacco.
Although many of the Melungeons claim a Portuguese ancestry and some
admit having Indian blood in their veins they do not like to be called
Melungeons or considered as peculiar people. They simply desire to be
called by their names, of which Collins is the most common, while
Mullins is a close second. Other common names are: Bolen, Gibson, and
Goins, and such names as Lawson, Maloney and Fields are not unknown.
From their English names, taken in connection with the other proof, it
seems probable that the story of their Portuguese origin is a myth. At
any rate the burden of proof is upon those who make such assertions and
some definite historical proof must be produced before such a theory
will be generally accepted as correct.
They are very sensitive and become angry if accused of having negro
blood in their veins. It is a known fact that some of the Melungeons
fought in the War of 1812 and some say that their ancestors were in the
revolutionary War; some of them received pensions, voted, and
prosecuted white men prior to the Civil War, none of which negroes were
allowed to do under the laws existing in those days. Their right to
vote, however, was frequently challenged. In one case, in which Col.
John Netherland was the defending lawyer, the matter was carried into
court and decided by measuring their feet. Four or five were allowed to
vote but one was debarred on the ground that his feet were too broad.
The people on Sycamore are somewhat darker than those on Blackwater and
there the race question has entered the school, some of the white
settlers objecting to their children going to school with those of
their darker skinned neighbors. This is somewhat strange in view of the
fact that from the marriage of a white with a Melungeon some of the
children will be dark and others will have very light complexions.
The Melungeons have lived for generations in their secluded valleys and
ridges far away from the routes of trade and the centers of population
and civilization. There they have eked out an existence by their
primitive methods of farming and fruit growing. Being too far from
market to be able to properly dispose of heavy or bulky products they
long ago began concentrating their corn so that they could carry it to
market in jugs. But they soon came to consume the greater part of the
contents of the jugs at home, and after the United States revenue law
was put into operation, they, with their white neighbors of the valleys
and ridges to the east and west, became a law unto themselves and
defied all outside authority. They always carried guns or knives and
many a bloody murder and foul crime has been committed in this region.
By its lawlessness and bloodshed this section came to be known to the
inhabitants of the more peaceful side of the Clinch as “yan side,” and
to be accused of being a citizen of “yan side” was, to say the least,
not a compliment. And of all the clans and tribes of “yan side,” the
Melungeons were the worst. Old persons say that they can remember when
nurses frightened their children into being good by telling them that
if they were naughty the Melungeons would get them, and children were
said to creep to bed on cold, stormy nights, frightened, afraid that
the fierce dark men from “yan side” would swoop down and carry them off.
Up to two decades ago, whiskey flowed like water in the Blackwater
country and moonshining was a common occupation. A stranger who
ventured into that region in those days did so at the risk of his life
for he was at once taken for a detective or a “revenue.”
In those days Mahala Mullins, queen of the blind tigresses, plied her
illegal trade in a large log house that stands on a wagon road on
Newman’s Ridge within five miles of a county seat and a temple of
justice. Mahala Mullins, herself a Melungeon but the wife of a white
man, believed that making and selling of whiskey was a natural and
inalienable right. When about sixty years of age she had an attack of
fever, following which she developed a kind of dropsy and grew
exceedingly corpulent, becoming one of the largest women in the South.
She was so large she could not walk, and her heart would not allow her
to lie down, hence she was forced to keep a sitting posture
continually. She was so large she could not get through the door and
was thus confined to her room. So here she sat day in and day out
beside a large whiskey barrel with a measure in her hand and sold to
all who would purchase. When officers came with a warrant she would
smile and tell them to take her, but as she could not walk and as they
could not carry her, as she weighed about 500 pounds, they always had
to return empty handed. She generally kept a federal license, but on
one occasion a State judge grew unusually insistent and ordered the
sheriff to bring her to court at any price. This official, however,
returned and reported that she was “seeable and talkable but not
bringable.”
In those days feuds were of common occurrence. A typical one was the
Brewer-Collins feud. At an election a few years ago trouble arose over
the right of certain men to vote, and Wiley Brewer, who was a justice
of the peace, ordered quiet and was shot and wounded by a Collins.
Then, quick as lightning, guns were drawn and a volley fired, as a
result of which three men were killed and another wounded. Before the
smoke had cleared away, Will Brewer stuck his gun under his arm and
continued to hold the election. From that time the Brewers were marked
men and a little later they were ambushed and shot by the Collinses.
Will Brewer was killed and Wiley Brewer again wounded. He is today
living in another part of the county afraid to return to his own home.
These conditions are, however, almost a thing of the past. Over this
whole region a new light has dawned and a better civilization and a
higher code of morals are penetrating into the remotest recesses of
these mountains. Some fifteen years ago Presbyterian missionaries
established a school on Blackwater and some seven or eight years later
one on Sycamore. About the same time Mahala Mullins died and Beatty
Collins, who had already been deputy sheriff for many years, was
induced to co-operate with the revenue officers, and with his aid
moonshine stills soon became a thing of the past although blind tigers
still inhabit some of the dense forests. The Presbyterians, who are an
unknown sect in most parts of the Southern mountains, have done much
good and have large churches. They have, however, by no means displaced
the Baptists, who are the leading sect in the Southern mountains, and
Methodists are not unknown. Needless to say that politically the
republicans are in the majority.
Feuds are now of seldom occurrence and as moonshining is an occupation
of the past a stranger is now as safe on Blackwater as on Broadway, but
he is even yet looked upon with curiosity and with more or less
suspicion, if he has no apparent business. The people are for the most
part sober, hospitable and ore or less industrious, cultivating their
mountain farms, knowing and caring little for the happenings of the
outside world.
Primitive methods of agriculture still prevail. The farmers live in
houses erected by their own hands either from rude logs or rough sawed
lumber. On Blackwater frame houses of four or five rooms are not
uncommon, but on Sycamore the typical residence is a cabin built of
round, unbarked logs, dovetailed together at the corners, having the
cracks chinked or daubed with mud and a chimney built of rough, flat
stones. Sometimes these cabins have a second room built of rough
timber. Vehicles are rare. The merchants and better farmers have farm
wagons but the wooden sled is the ordinary means of transportation.
Buggies are almost unknown and automobiles undreamed of.
The farming implements are crude. The soil is broken with a bull-tongue
plow, the seed sown by hand, the crops cultivated with the double
shovel plow and heavy iron hoes, and hauled to the barn on simple
wooden sleds. A variety of crops, including tobacco, are grown, so that
little food has to be imported, and the narrow meadows are generally in
grass to furnish hay for wintering the cattle. Much fruit is grown.
Formerly th4e apples were used for making brandy but now they are dried
in the sun for market. But if the season is wet crude furnaces are
built of rough stones can covered with tin so that the apples are dried
in spite of the rain.
Although remote from the routes of trade, commerce has developed to a
limited extent. The traveling salesman makes his monthly rounds and in
the tiny rural stores the greatest variety of articles are found.
Candies, overalls, calicoes and shoes recline upon the shelves beside
bolts, horseshoes and nails, while coal oil, dishes, canned goods and
novelties are not lacking. In exchange for these articles the merchant
takes chickens, eggs, ginseng, dried apples and other light
commodities. These he loads into his wagon and hauls to the nearest
railroad town, where he sells his produce and reloads the wagon with
his miscellaneous merchandise, and at the end of the third day, after
fording treacherous streams, climbing steep, rocky hills and toiling
laboriously through long quagmires, known as roads, he again reaches
his store and unpacks his wares. Grain and other heavy commodities are
not grown for export but many cattle are raised and sold to the buyers
on their periodic visits, small saw mills with their portable engines
are moved from place to place and saw lumber for local use and walnut
and poplar, the only timbers that pay for the haul to the railroad.
Practically all the people wear clothing made of factory woven cloth
and “store shoes,” but many of the women still go barefooted, and this
is so customary that even barefoot girls are not abashed in the
presence of strangers. It is not unusual to see a man and his
barefooted wife walking to the store or to the home of some distant
friend. They walk single file, a necessity on the mountain trails, and
the man always precedes. If such a couple be stopped by a stranger who
wishes to inquire the way or make a passing remark, the man after
replying will search the stranger’s face with his dark, piercing eyes
ands say: “’Pears like I’ve seed you som’ers; what’s your name?”
A stranger can always secure a night’s lodging at any of the primitive
homes of these people. But the offer of such hospitality will seldom be
made unless asked for directly, and then it will almost never be
refused, no matter how poor the accommodations are. The woman cooks the
crude meal and places it on the table, but if a stranger be present she
invariable refuses to eat until the men have finished, no matter how
much room there is at the table of how little she has to do. This rule
does not apply to the children, however.
A stranger once spent the night in the dead of winter at such a home.
Arising in the morning he was asked by his host if he would like to
wash before breakfast, and he replied that he would. His host then
asked if he preferred hot or cold water. The stranger was surprised at
such a question but as the morning was bitter cold, a heavy snow having
fallen during the night, he replied that he’d take warm water. The man
of the house thereupon threw a towel across his shoulder and led the
way down through the woods to the spring. The visitor wished many times
as he trudged through the new-fallen snow that he had chosen cold
water, but to use the colloquial expression, “he had his ruthers.”
But after all is said – after the investigator has described the
poverty of the many and the primitive customs of all; after the artist
has painted in varied hue the exquisite beauties of the landscape;
after the invalid has drunk the excellent mineral waters and gone away
cured; after the geologist has located all the mineral bearing strata
and explained why Blackwater Creek flows northward when all other
streams in this section flow southward; after the linguist has
accurately recorded all the peculiarities of the vernacular; and after
the promoter has estimated the value of the virgin forests and hidden
mineral wealth – after all this has been done, the peculiar physical
characteristics of the people will remain and the mystery surrounding
their ancestry will present an unsolved problem for the historian. The
Melungeons, however, are fast losing their identity. Many whites have
already intermarried with them and many children with fair complexions,
light hair and blue eyes frolic with their swarthy neighbors. But in
spite of this race admixture it will be many years before their
peculiar characteristics entirely disappear.