WAGY Radio Station

It’s Beginnings and Early History

Barry D. Yelton

            I had the great privilege of working at WAGY radio from January 1963 to June of 1967.  When I started I was all of 16 years old.  A few years back we had a little reunion of former announcers, DJ’s, and others from the “Old WAGY” before the FM band was sold, which occurred sometime in the 80’s I believe.  That got me to thinking about the history of the station.  I did a Google search and could find almost nothing about WAGY, except a Facebook page about the current AM operation still operating.  It seemed to me that the colorful history of the station should be at least partially told. It may have value and meaning to the descendants of those who participated in its golden age in the late fifties and sixties. I can only relate what I know (and remember at age 71 in the year 2018) about those wonderful days working with some of the best people I have ever known.

            The station was formed by G.T. “Uncle Bud” Becknell and Hoyle Lovelace around 1958. They were business partners in a radio and jewelry store in Forest City, NC and decided to get into the broadcasting business.  Uncle Bud (I must call him that because that is how everyone knew him and addressed him) was the general manager of the operation.  I saw Mr. Lovelace only occasionally.  He ran a general store in Bostic, NC, where, as fate would have it, I bought my wife-to-be her first FM radio in 1964, which we still own (and it still works).

The People

            My introduction to the station was through my best friend, and third cousin, Johnny Medford.  Johnny lived just down the road from the old station (which is now a private residence) on what they currently call Old WAGY Road.  Somehow, he began to stop by the station, and Uncle Bud offered him a job.  I believe he began as the early morning “janitor” and part time DJ. Johnny and I were lifelong friends until his passing in December of 2014.  He later became the station manager and was an integral part of the operation.  He left there sometime around 1969, married, and ran a country store. During his time there Johnny was known for his friendly demeanor, wry humor, and terrific radio voice. He was a truly great individual.

            As previously mentioned, Uncle Bud was the general manager and the undoubted boss of the operation. When I was there he was about fifty years old. He wore an old fashioned pencil thin mustache, which I am told, he fashioned after his favorite performer, Tennessee Ernie Ford.  Uncle Bud was a household name at that time.  WAGY had the largest listening audience in Rutherford County, and Uncle Bud’s morning show was the most popular of them all.  His homespun way of talking, country humor, and jovial persona was popular with people and the reason a great many of them tuned in each day.

            Uncle Bud was also a visionary.  He saw the need for a water reservoir in Rutherford County and I am told promoted the idea, though it did not go anywhere.  A severe drought a few years back certainly made me think that it would have been an excellent idea, as municipalities scrambled to keep from running out of water.  He also talked about forming a cable TV operation.  At the time neither I nor anyone else there even knew what that was.  But Uncle Bud could see that it had a future, though to what extent only time would tell.  If he had had the resources of a Ted Turner, who knows what may have happened.

            Everyone loved Uncle Bud’s way of talking and his country expressions.  If you didn’t know him you would think he was a simple country boy.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  In addition to being a visionary he was an entrepreneur and a good businessman.  However, to the world he was Uncle Bud, the friendly voice on the radio who repeatedly said things like “Good Old Rutherford County,”  except it came out “Good ole Releford County.”  I can hear him say it to this day.

            His early morning show was one of the most popular on the station.  It started out with a rousing rendition not of some country or bluegrass tune but with “Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey.”  Why he chose that as his theme song, I never knew. But I surmise that he chose it simply because it was upbeat and he liked it.

            WAGY in those days had a music/talk variety format. One of the talk shows was “Swap and Shop.”  People would call in with items to sell, items or pets to give away, or items wanted. In those days there was not tape delay and whatever the caller said, went right out over the airwaves.  This led to a number of embarrassing and sometimes hilarious exchanges.  A lady once called in with a couch for sale. She described the couch and gave a price for it.  Uncle Bud, in his country manner, said, “Would ye euchre on it?”  The lady gasped and said, “Uncle Bud, I am a Christian.” And she hung up the phone.  I hope she later realized that he meant was would she negotiate the price. That was a word he used every day, but apparently she was not clued in.

            I hear a while back that years after he sold the station and retired, he came to some sort of community event, and no one knew who he was. I am told it made him very sad, and that makes me very sad as well. Uncle Bud was the heart and soul of WAGY and later on you will see what I mean. More than that, he was the voice of Rutherford County for many years. His contribution to the culture, enjoyment, and well being of citizens of that era deserves great respect and honor. It is a shame he never really received that respect and honor later in life.  Lesser men have had statues dedicated to them in city squares.

            Gerald “Pappy” Bedford was a full time announcer who also developed a following at WAGY. Pappy had contracted polio as a child (in the days before Dr. Salk’s vaccine). He was paralyzed from the waist down and walked with the help of two special crutches which clamped on to his lower arms with grips lower down for his hands. He literally walked on his arms, and believe me no one could beat him at arm wrestling. He had a unique way of talking, with a sort of halting annunciation, which made him unique among the DJ’s and announcers there. His radio persona was always upbeat. In person, he loved a good joke, laughed a lot, and poked fun at me every chance he got.  When I went there I was 16 and he was 26.  Pappy passed away a few years ago. The last time I saw him was at the reunion in about 2012. He had begun using a wheelchair, and someone helped him around. He treated me as an equal and I always considered him my friend.

            Dave White was station manager before Johnny took over. He was truly the golden voice of the station.  I have never heard a better voice on the radio.  He was a local boy, who loved music. He wrote a number of successful songs for people like Whisperin’ Bill Anderson and others. When Bill Anderson came through the area, he sometimes stayed with Dave and his wife. Dave later moved to Nashville to continue his songwriting career. I understand he passed away at a young age from a heart attack.

            He was always very nice to me though he did give me a bit of a joshing when I combed my hair forward Beatle-style in early 1964 (I soon reverted to my old plain haircut).  Dave was a talented man. It is a shame he passed away so young.  If you Google his name, you will find there was a singer-songwriter named Dave White who had some commercial success. That is a different person altogether.  I don’t know for sure if Dave of WAGY penned any hits, but I know Bill Anderson, a huge star back then, thought a lot of him.

            Don Lovelace, Hoyle Lovelace’s son, worked at the station, and I believe later bought it and operated it.  I never was truly sure what Don did.  I saw him rarely, but I believe he helped with the management of the station.

            There was an ad salesman and I believe his name was Fred Blanton.  Always a snappy dresser and wore a hat.  He spent most of his time out getting business for the station.

            Joey Arrowood joined the staff later and became the morning “janitor” and a part time DJ.  Joey was a couple of years younger than me.  We were the kids at the station in those days. 

            Ms. Lou Haynes was the secretary when I came to the station. She was there for a few years and later was replaced by a lady whose name I cannot remember. Lou and her husband Herman were members of Smiths’s Grove Baptist Church, where my family attended. Lovely lady and always very nice to me.

            When I first came to WAGY, Cecil “Towhead” Atchley had the morning janitor job.  He and Johnny Medford were seniors at Cool Springs High when I was a freshman.  By the time I came there, I was a sophomore at the then new East High and they had both graduated.  Towhead left shortly after I came there, though I do not know where he went.

Station Format

            In 1963 the station’s format was music variety and some talk, such as Swap and Shop, and a call in radio program I ran for a while where students would call in with homework questions, which other students would call in and try to answer.  It was a fun little program from 8-9 at night, during the Top 40 show. I would play a song or two, and then take homework calls. One of the calls came in from Judy Jackson in Cliffside, NC.  We began talking on the phone and I was taken with her sweet voice. We set up a blind date and ended up getting married. We still are after over 50 years.

            The station’s morning would start off with Pappy’s show from about 6 AM to 8 AM as I recall. He played mostly country and bluegrass music. Uncle Bud came in around 8 AM and played music and called around to different places in the county to get reports. He used to call Mr. Tisdale at his store in Ellenboro for a regular call on the doings in that community.

            The daytime programming was mostly country and pop music, with different DJ’s.  I believe Dave White had the morning slot, and Johnny Medford the afternoon slot. 

            Of course the programming I remember best was what I did after I graduated from being a morning janitor and phone answerer.  I started with Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, the least popular slots for other DJ’s.  I was in hog heaven because I got to play the songs I wanted to, within the programming format of the hour.

            Sunday mornings I literally started the station up, and began the morning’s programming. I believe we started at about 8 AM on Sundays, and of course it was mostly Christian music and preaching.  The Royal Quartet came in around 8:30 for half and hour.  Great group, with some very talented singers, including one cousin of mine Ray Poteat who sang bass.

            At 9 AM the Echoes of Glory, an African American gospel group came in and did a live show.  They were great and I came to be friends with them and to really appreciate and enjoy their joyful music.

            Later we have various preachers come in and do a live sermon, and then there was recorded Christian music. My mother used to come by on her way to Smith’s Grove with a couple of banana sandwiches and a mason jar of chocolate milk. She knew were her little boy liked!

            I later progressed to doing weeknight radio, which was my favorite slot. My friends at East and other schools listened and called in their requests, which I tried dutifully to fulfill (unless of course I could not stand the song they asked for and then I might play it and I might not!).  The evening started at 6 PM with “Organ Melodies” which I could only barely tolerate.  It was old traditional music performed on the organ by masters like Ken Griffin.  I could appreciate their ability, but I did not care for that type of music.

            At 7 PM it was the “Gospel Music Hour.”  We played tunes by The Chuckwagon Gang, The Happy Goodman Family, The Blackwood Brothers, the Lefevres, and others. I especially liked a song called “Without Him” written by the 17 year old Mylon Lefevre.  That song has become a classic and is now included in many Baptist Hymnals.

            At 8 PM, my favorite hour began – “Top 40.”  I had a theme song which had some snappy organ riffs but I cannot remember the tune or the artist. The mid-sixties were an exciting time. The British invasion came along and groups like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and others brought a fresh new sound with tremendous energy and unbelievable creativity.  The Americans answered the invasion with The Byrds (my personal all-time favorite), Simon and Garfunkel, The Turtles, Bob Dylan, Jay and the Americans, the Mamas and the Papas, and many others.  I do not believe there was before or has been since such a period of creativity in popular music, and I truly try to be objective.

            Could there be a better job for an 18 to 19 year old than playing his generation’s music on the radio every night?  I did not know it at the time, but it was the job that was the least like work of any I have ever had.  Probably should have stuck with it, but frankly I did not believe I was good enough to make the big time.  Now we will never know!  At least I do have the memories and they are almost all good.

            From 9 pm to 10 pm we had the show that surely won the radio program alliteration award, “Platter Picks of the Past.”  We played older music from the late fifties and very early sixties.  It was also a joy to host, but not like the Top 40 show.  Pop music had pretty much moved past the doo wop era, with the harmonizing groups and the crooners, though some of them hung around through the mid-sixties.  It was a fun show and was very popular.  On that show people could write in requests for a number of songs, and we would play six or eight of their favorites.

Fun Facts about WAGY

            WAGY was the only station in the sixties in the area that had both a 1,000 watt AM transmitter and a 100,000 watt FM transmitter.

            WAGY had a 300 foot radio tower built behind the station, and late had a 300 foot tower built on top of Cherry Mountain.  Uncle Bud bought a jeep so he could go up and work on the equipment there in bad weather.

            It was not unusual at night for me to get calls from as far away as Ohio, Vermont, and Florida. That 100,000 watt FM transmitter was what they call in the industry a real “blow torch.” It was powerful.

            Joey Arrowood drove a VW Beetle.  I liked it so much I later bought one.  One day, while he was on air, some friends came over and while he was working, they manually turned it sideways in the parking lot.

            WAGY did not operate 24 hours.  The AM side had to shut down at sundown each day due to overlapping signals after dark. The FM side signed off at 11 PM each night. It was my duty to close out with the national anthem, and then carefully power down the transmitter.  

            More later, as I remember it!

           

           

               

The Confederate Flag and Racial Strife

A lunatic goes on a shooting binge and murders nine humble Christians in a church, and it's the flag's fault.  I suppose the 9-11 terrorist attacks were Boeing's fault too. The correlation of the killings with the flag is an example of the twisted logic of the left. Because racists fly the flag, the flag is racist. That is the worse sort of inductive reasoning.

Here is a major news flash;  racists also fly the American flag. Lots of disreputable outfits like to wrap themselves in Old Glory; it is a sort of fig leaf for their twisted views.

I have known a few real racists, and they would be racists if the flag never existed. I also have known a lot of people who like to fly the flag, use flag decals, or flag license plates. They absolutely mean no harm and are simply expressing regional pride.

Let's get the skunk up on the table; the north won the war. Big deal, if the U.S. went to war with Mexico, guess who would win. A country with three times the population, ten times the manufacturing capacity, and one hundred times the shipbuilding capacity goes to war in earnest with the smaller of the two, guess who will win nine times out of ten. The larger country only loses if it quits and goes home, as we did in Vietnam.

So the north wins, and it seems that some northerners just cannot stop dancing in the end zone over it. It is a fact that the south has been the object of scorn and ridicule for generations mainly because it lost the war. I find it pretty ridiculous that people who had absolutely no connection with the Civil War should gloat over the south's defeat. I once had a Canadian who had moved to the U.S. say, "You shouldn't have ticked us off," or something like that, in relation to the war. A Canadian for crying out loud. This is a small example of the mind numbing ignorance of the history of the war, an ignorance shared by the vast majority of Americans.

Some southerners have such a resentment for that sort of treatment, that they fly the flag as a kind of defiant raised fist at gloating northerners. It has nothing to do with race. Others, such as CW re-enactors and heritage groups, use the flag as a symbol of respect for their forebears who fought hard and bravely on the side of the south. So where is the crime in that?

The vast majority of the popular media, academia, and government, have jumped on the bandwagon to "ban the flag." A completely worthless exercise in self-gratification which will do precisely nothing to improve race relations. Hello, earth to flag banners, it will make NO difference, and may only exacerbate the problem. There is in fact now a hardening of some people on the issue. They feel every nut case group in the country can fly their weird flags with not a peep from anyone, and yet they cannot fly a flag that they revere.

The leap of logic taken by so many on this issue makes them look absolutely ridiculous. Their pandering sophistry is disingenuous at best and purely malicious at worst. Time to learn some history and practice some tolerance, something the left has preached for years but somehow rarely practices.


Confederate flag, racial strife, the South, Civil War

Confederate Flag Debate

First of all, let's clarify that the flag flying beside the State House in Columbia, SC is NOT the flag of the CSA. It is a battle flag, usually flown by regiments in the Army of Northern Virginia and other Confederate armies as a guidon for troops to follow in battle.

The flag has been appropriated by the scurrilous purveyors of racial hatred, much to the chagrin of honest people concerned with the brave heritage of the men who fought for the South. There were no slaves transported from Africa under the battle flag. The flag of St. Andrew's Cross was a flag flown in battle, pure and simple.

Because the racist haters fly the flag, it has been besmirched and a stain put upon the honor of the good men who fought under it. Most of them owned no slaves, nor even cared about the issue. They fought because their country - their state - had been invaded. Before the war, one referred to their own state as their country. The U.S. was a union of sovereign states, not a nation divided into provinces. The world was a very different place and to impugn those people one hundred and fifty years later is as pernicious as it is presumptuous.

We need better education in this country about the Civil War and its causes, the men who fought it, and the brutal and bitter aftermath. I deal with that subject in my new novel, Season of the Crow. The sanitized and politically correct history taught these days does a serious disservice to the young and the old. It is high time to focus on the hard cold facts, and less on political or social agendas.

Amazon Author Page

Here is the link to my Amazon author page, which just went live.

Barry Yelton Amazon Author Page

The Kingdom of Light

Somewhere in that infinite unknowable Mind

came a thought

from eternity to eternity it came

and was spoken

and that which dwelt in majestic quiescence

became

in a roar

of flame

of wind

of water

of the solid earth.

Until there was being

where before

was only knowing.

And the small ones

weak and fearful

look up and see

with eyes of faith

across millennia.

And we watch still

from a fishbowl

the mysterious, moving, Majesty

beyond

with awe and transcendent wonder

as we mark our days

and pass our years

until we join

in discarnate reunion

there

where 

the universe

intersects the infinite.

Season of the Crow is here!

The book is now published and up on Amazon.com in the Kindle edition. The paperback edition will be available soon.

Happy Reading!

Season of the Crow is coming soon!

My new book, Season of the Crow, a sequel to Scarecrow in Gray, should hit the market within thirty days. Below is a draft of the cover art:

I am very excited about it and I believe our readers will enjoy the story line, cast of characters, and the resolution.

It will be on Amazon (hopefully) within thirty days.

Banning Religion From Public View

An article I wrote back in 2006:

There has been a great deal of discussion in the media recently about the celebration of Christmas in the public domain.  Some have asserted that displays of the Nativity scene and symbols such as the cross are religious and therefore have no place on public property because of the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment to the Constitution.

The Establishment/Free Exercise clause of the First Amendment to the Constitution states, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”  It is a two pronged statement that prohibits an official state religion, like the Church of England, while clearly upholding the right to religious practice and expression. The anti-religionists give the broadest interpretation to the Establishment Clause, while the Free Exercise component is viewed in the narrowest possible way.

If federal, state or local governments were setting up churches or other places of worship and encouraging or mandating people to worship at the state church a religion would have been established.  However allowing private groups or individuals, including churches, temples or mosques, to utilize public spaces for gatherings or religious displays should be no more considered the establishment of religion than permitting a fifth grade art exhibit depicting “Mother Earth” on Earth Day. 

To believe that such exhibits violate the Establishment Clause is to take such a broad interpretation of it as to strain credulity. The intent of the framers relative to the scope of the clause is evident since the same First Congress that proposed the Bill of Rights also opened its legislative day with prayer and voted to apportion federal dollars to establish Christian missions in the Indian lands.

In my opinion, those earnest worshipers of the Establishment Clause, who on other issues often look upon the Constitution as a “living, breathing document,” are less concerned with the government establishing a religion than they are with marginalizing those who actually have one.

The ACLU, which was established by a Marxist, amazingly seems to battle even the most benign expressions of faith in the public square, such as The Boy Scouts use of a public park, while at the same time vigorously defending the rights of organizations such as NAMBLA, which advocates and promotes the vilest crimes imaginable, citing “free speech.” I suppose the warm waters of free speech end at the shoreline of religious expression. Hypocrisy never had a more shining avatar.

There is not simply a “War on Christmas” taking place in our country. There is a more fundamental conflict of values in progress with underlying agendas on both sides. The groups and individuals that TV commentator Bill O’Reilly refers to as “secular progressives” are aggressively trying to remove all expressions of faith from all public venues.

They want “under God” removed from the Pledge of Allegiance. They want “In God We Trust” removed from our currency.  They want crèches, the Ten Commandments, and Christian crosses removed from every public space. In short they want any evidence of religious faith confined strictly to private property.

Why should we care about this “culture war?” We should care because by marginalizing Christianity in particular, the secular progressives will move a step closer to their dream of an America without God, Who demands certain behavioral norms that inconveniently conflict with the laissez faire moral attitudes of 21^st century America. The ACLU and other radical “progressive” organizations want to manipulate what America sees and hears while maintaining their imagined status as defenders of “free speech.”

They know that if you marginalize God by confining religious expression to private property you limit and diminish the message. By limiting the message, your secular progressive message has less competition in the public marketplace of ideas. They don’t want children to see a Nativity scene on a courthouse lawn and be curious about the Child in the manger.

Once you limit religion to the private sector, then you have less resistance to your goal of a Godless, faithless, libertine America where the only behavior not tolerated is the expression of faith in God. Nothing else explains the rabidity with which the secular agenda is being pursued today, after over two hundred years of mostly peaceful coexistence of government and religion in our country.  

The imaginary “wall of separation” between religion and government does not mandate that religion be shoved out of public life. It simply means what Jefferson and the other framers intended and that is the prohibition of formal state religion - nothing more.

The soothing words of those who see no problem banishing God from public life, whether it is a cross on public property or the act of wishing someone Merry Christmas at the mall, are calculated to make the average American believe that all is well and that there is really no problem with keeping religious expression strictly in the private arena.

They even try to foist upon us the canard that somehow public expression of religious faith “cheapens and demeans” that faith. Institutions like the ACLU and their fellow travelers, such as George Soros, don’t spend tens of millions of dollars every year fighting public religious expression and traditional values for nothing. They are cleverly hiding their true intent, hoping that the apathetic majority won’t notice – until it is too late.

The Season of The Crow is coming soon!

I am very pleased and excited to announce that my publisher has finished the edits of my new book and it should be released by the end of March!  Here is a brief synopsis:

           In the dark days following the Civil War, a family of freed slaves makes an epic journey to find refuge in the North Carolina mountains. They form an unlikely alliance with a former Confederate soldier and his family to battle a vicious band of night riding terrorists.

            A seesaw war rages between the former Confederate and his allies and the nigh triders culminating in a deadly battle on a rocky mountainside. The turmoil of a nation’s bitterest conflict spills over into the postwar years as blacks and whites alike struggle to survive a seething cauldron of hatred and violence.

The book serves as a sequel to Scarecrow in Gray, but stands on its own as an exciting tale, with some twists and turns as well as gritty action and heart rending episodes. It follows the post war fictional life of  Francis and Harriet Yelton and their friends. Set in western North Carolina, the book is steeped in the grim reality of reconstruction. It is clearly the best work this writer has done and I am excited to bring it to the reading public.

Cheers,

Barry

A Simple Question

By Barry Yelton

Copyright 2014

why do you believe he asked?

why do you not said I

because there is no reason to

said he and science has not seen

your god

in telescope or microscope or

petri dish

and besides well known it is

that once the big bang

caused all of this

you see

big bang i asked ?

big bang he said

you mean the one that sprang

from microscopic singularity?

yes he said

the one that exploded ancient and

massive?

yes

and accelerated all the dust

and rocks

and building blocks

of the universe

at speed much greater

than that of light?

yes he said

how i asked?

why, science knows

how?

they do he said

they do asked i?

they do

why i asked?

why?

why did it happen?

why was there a singularity?

why is there anything at all?

because, he said, there just is

that’s not an answer

nor a reason, said i

but it is all we know

it just is, said he

you mean we don’t know?

of course we know

it just is

that’s not an explanation

logic cries out for an answer

and all you have is

“it just is?”

yes, it just is

why?

you wear me out with the question

and why is that?

because there is no answer

there is

what?

God

only the eternal could be

just because

matter could not

it had to be created

it had to come from somewhere

it came from God

i still don’t believe

you don’t have to

Harvey Fagan Breaks Bad

Harvey Fagan Breaks Bad

by Barry Yelton

Copyright 2011

            Did I ever tell you about old Harvey Fagan and Officer Fesco Bass? Well, it’s a real knee slapper, and if you got time, I’ll relate the whole thing. It all happened on a Saturday, back in about 1954, as I recall. There was a bunch of us hangin’ out up town in Elm City, there near the Union Bank, where the town clock hangs.

            We was standin’ around talkin’ about how much time President Eisenhower spends playin’ golf, and how purty that Marilyn Monroe is. Harvey had just got through pontificatin’ about how old Ike ought to be working on trying to figure out how to stop the Communists in China, instead of “knockin’ that little white ball around,” and had launched about the seventieth stream into the gutter, there in front of the ice cream store, when up walks Officer Fesco Bass.

            Now it was well known all over Elm City that Officer Bass had no use for anyone who hung around uptown, blocking the sidewalks, and spittin’ tobacco juice into the gutters. He maintained that the tax paying businesses of Elm City deserved to have sidewalks free of loiterers and gutters free of tobacco spit. I’ll have to say, Officer Bass was the picture of rectitude and civic mindedness, not to mention he kept a clean uniform and the brightest, shiniest pair of patent leather shoes a man ever saw. Some say you could shave yourself in the reflection off those shoes and never miss a whisker!

            It was also well known that Harvey had no use for Fesco, and quite frequently laughed at him behind his back. Now it wasn’t that Fesco was a bad man at all. It was just, well, that he was funny looking. You remember that fellow that played Barney in the Andy Griffith Show? Well Fesco looked a bit like that, except not as good looking, a little taller, and a might skinnier. It was worse that he had thick lips, not unlike those on a bass fish. Frequently, when officer Bass walked by, Harvey would suck in the sides of his mouth and make a sort of fish face as he went on by, much to the amusement of the other fellows hanging around.

            Anyhow, up walks Officer Bass, twirling his baton. I figure he practiced that in a mirror at least four hours a day, because he was sure good at it. The baton was a solid blur as he spun it. He came up within about ten feet of where Harvey was standin when Harvey launches this stream toward the gutter. It was short, however, and landed at the edge of the curb and sort of puddled there. Officer Bass, stopped abruptly and glared at Harvey with a look that would wither fresh flowers.

            He took a couple more slow steps toward Harvey, and, jutting out his lower jaw, pointed at the puddle on the curb with a long, bony finger. “Harvey, how many times have I told you that it is against the law to spit on the sidewalk? It’s bad enough that you have to fill the gutters up with that germy filth in your mouth, but it is a disgrace to this town for you to foul the sidewalks, and right smack in front of the ice cream store too!”

            “Well, I’m right sorry, Officer Bass, but I was aimin’ at the curb and must not of taken the windage into account.”

            “It’s Corporal Bass, now, Harvey. Chief Gudger done promoted me last week,” Fesco said, with his chin up, his baton tapping lightly at the corporal’s chevrons on his sleeve.

            Harvey looked like he was going to choke on the chaw in his mouth. I could see him fighting mightily to get himself under control, but it was a struggle indeed. His big shoulders shook slightly as he fought down the laugh, and his face turned a bright red. But, I must say, he controlled himself quite well, under the circumstances, and simply said, “Well, congratulations...Corporal Bass.” I thought sure the ‘baccer juice was going to shoot out his nose.

            The Corporal looked mildly aggravated, and, pointing again at the puddle on the sidewalk said, “I could give you a ticket for this, and it would cost you five dollars, but I’m gonna overlook it this once since you said you was aimin’ at the gutter. So help me, if this ever happens again, Harvey, the wrath of Elm City’s police force is goin’ to come down on your head, and it won’t be pretty! You got that?”

            “Yes, sir,” said Harvey, with as much humility as he could muster. “I shore won’t do ‘er again, no sir.”

            Fesco glared at Harvey briefly, and then walked casually away, twirling the baton. I desperately made signs at Harvey, tryin’ to get him not to do it, wavin’ my arms, makin’ the time out sign, and all, but he did it anyway. He made the fish face behind Fesco’s back. He sucked those fat cheeks in and made that silly little fish face, lips workin’ up and down, right at Fesco’s back. Tobacco juice rolled prodigiously out the sides of his mouth, but he didn’t pay it any mind. The other fellows standing around proceeded to hee-haw loud enough to wake the dead. Arthur Jones doubled over he laughed so hard.

            Fesco wheeled around, and though Harvey tried to lose the fish face, Fesco was too quick and caught him in the act, lips workin’ up and down and all. The laughter stopped. It was like a cloud went over the sun. Harvey’s fish face froze in place; a couple of drops of tobacco juice rolled slowly down his Big Smith overalls. Fesco whipped out his baton from its holster like a cavalry sabre, and walked slowly back toward Harvey.

            “Just what do you fellows think is so funny?” he asked, though the question answered itself. Harvey’s fish face gradually faded back into his regular round, fat-man’s face, and he sort of tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, “I don’t know.” But, he did know, and so did Fesco. Fesco wasn’t a genius, but he had graduated twenty-third in his high school class, and he figured out pretty quick what was going on.

            He waived the baton at Harvey. “I’m changin’ my mind about that ticket,” he said, as he strode toward Harvey. “I’m writin’ that ticket and you’re gonna pay the town of Elm City the sum of five dollars or spend three nights in jail.” He pulled out his ticket book and began to write.

            Harvey’s face grew redder by the minute. For one thing, Harvey couldn’t stand Fesco. For another, he was as tight a tightwad as ever lived, and for him to even think of parting with five greenbacks was just about more than the man could stand. Harvey stood there about eight feet from Fesco, workin’ his jaw. Over and over, he worked that jaw. All of a sudden, it came to me. I knew what Harvey was about to do. I almost had it out of my mouth to say “Harvey don’t do it” when Harvey went and did it.

            Harvey had worked up a monumental slug of juice, and, rearing his head back, and then bringing it forward, he launched it toward Fesco. Now I have seen a lot of tobacco juice expelled over the years, especially on the street and in the barber shop in Elm City. Many tobacco chewers pride themselves on being able to hit a spittoon at ten or twelve feet. I have seen the best, but never have I seen such a stream as issued from Harvey Fagan’s mouth that Saturday in 1954.

            Time seemed to slow down, like it does in the movies sometimes. The stream came from his mouth like a fountain and hung in the air, a blur of gleaming amber in the sunlight. It’s a crying shame that the moment couldn’t have been captured on film, because it was one for the ages. It sort of arced up, shone briefly in the sunlight, and then came right down and splattered the toe of the Corporal’s right shoe.

            Everybody froze. Harvey worked his jaw once, and then a tight little smile crossed his face, as he stood there defiant as all get out. Fesco’s mouth dropped open, and then he slowly looked down at his shoe. I have to say, it was as sorry a sight as I ever saw, that shiny black shoe absolutely bathed in tobacco juice. It ran off the sides and made a sad little puddle on the sidewalk.

            Fesco stood staring at the shoe for what seemed several minutes, though it surely couldn’t have been that long. Then, I thought maybe Fesco was havin’ a stroke or something, because he sort of sputtered and stammered some words that nobody could make out. Arthur pointed at the shoe and begin to laugh. Harvey lifted his chin up real proud like, and though he didn’t say it, he seemed to be sayin’, How’d ye like that ‘un, boys!”

            Fesco finally found his voice. He waved the baton in Harvey’s face and yelled, “You done assaulted a officer of the law!”

            Harvey worked up an outraged face and said, “With baccer spit?”

            Fesco tapped Harvey on the chest with the baton. “It don’t matter. It was the intent that counts, accordin’ to the law.” Fesco’s face was getting’ real red. Now I was worried that he really would have a stroke. The baton trembled in his hand.

            Harvey wasn’t smilin’ now; he knew he was in trouble. I could see it on his face, like a little cloud came over it, and where he was grinnin’ and all proud of the stream before; now he was sore worried he had gone a little too far. His eyes shifted around as if looking for a way out.

            Fesco reached behind his back and pulled the handcuffs off his shiny black belt. “You’re goin’ to the pokey, mister,” he says, his teeth gritted real tight.

            Well, I reckon Harvey didn’t take to goin’ to jail. He spent a night there two years before, when he was drunk and was singin’ “Old Folks at Home” real loud on the town square on a Saturday afternoon. He didn’t like it one little bit.

 What happened next was absolutely amazing. I never knew a fat man could move that fast, and him almost fifty years old too. He spun on his heel and took off down Main Street at a dead run, his overalls floppin’ all around. Fesco stood for a minute with his mouth dropped open, again, and then he begun what they call a hot pursuit. Down Main Street goes Harvey and Fesco, their feet slappin’ the sidewalk and Fesco yellin’, “Halt, police!” You could hear it from one end of town to the other, people comin’ out of the stores to see what the excitement was.

            The rest of us boys looked at each other, and then, as with one mind, we all took off after Harvey and Fesco, because we wanted to see how this would turn out. So here we go, Harvey in the lead, face red and sweat a rollin’; Fesco runnin’ behind him, his knees near up to his chest and bony arms pumpin’ hard. The three of us come runnin’ along behind. I sorta took the lead, because Arthur and Frank was bad out of shape, and lacked the motivation I had. I really wanted to see how this would turn out!

            Folks on the street stopped what they was doin’ and watched this strange parade movin’ up main street. For some reason, Harvey decided to cross the street and run the other way; so Fesco follows, yelling, “Halt, police, stop!” and all that kind of thing.  I could see Harvey was slowin’ down, and Fesco was catchin’ up. Harvey was a big man, to put it kindly. In fact, he probably tipped the scales at near three hundred pounds, and there wasn’t much muscle on him.

            Anyhow, it seemed Harvey had him an idea. He crossed the street again at the square and went into the little park in the middle. Elm City had a real nice little park right in the middle of town, with some nice fir trees, and bushes, and a little fountain in the middle of a round pool, which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. That was to keep the kids (or somebody like Harvey) from wading in it. Harvey ran around to the opposite side of the fountain from Fesco. When Fesco would start around one way, Harvey would run in the other direction. Every time Fesco changed direction, Harvey would too.

            Back and forth it went, until Fesco had himself an idea. He was determined to get his hands on Harvey, so he takes a runnin go and jumps over the wrought iron fence, and into the fountain. Then he goes splashin’ across real fast. Harvey was sort of froze in place; he never figured on this! I must say I have never seen a more determined look than Fesco had on his narrow little face that day. Why he leaped over the fence on the other side, before you could say skat. Harvey come to himself and turned to run, but it was too late. Fesco leaped on Harvey’s back, meanin’ to take him to the ground. Unfortunately for Fesco, a one hundred and thirty pound man is always goin’ to have a hard time takin’ a three hundred pound man to the ground.

            It looked for all the world like Harvey was takin’ Fesco for a piggy back ride! Fesco had Harvey around the neck with both arms. Harvey was spinnin’ and flailin’, tryin’ to get Fesco off. Fesco was shifting around tryin’ to take Harvey to the ground.  A crowd began to gather. In fact, it was the biggest crowd I had seen in Elm City since the fire truck caught on fire several years before. Now that was a sight to be seen. But this one took the cake.

            Well, Fesco figured this had gone on long enough, so he let loose with his right arm and swung the baton down on Harvey’s head, with a little whack. Now Harvey didn’t take much to pain, and he was wore out, so he sort of sat down on the ground. When he went down Fesco went with him, but Fesco’s shiny belt got caught on one of the wrought iron fence spikes. Then, somehow Harvey got his second wind. He got up and took off again! Fesco flailed and struggled, but couldn’t get loose and all he could do was watch Harvey run down the street, stoppin’ every now and then and grabbin’ his side, then runnin’ on about as fast as a fat man can run.

            That was the last time we ever saw Harvey, him a runnin’ down Main Street in Elm City, overalls floppin’ and sweat flyin’. The sound of his brogans hittin’ the pavement faded away in the late afternoon air. It got so quiet around the fountain; you could have heard a pin drop. 

            Some say Harvey moved over to Frog Level. Some say he left the state. All I know is that Fesco gave any and all tobacco chewers a wide berth from that day on, and that’s the truth with my hand up.

Formation of Yelton Capital Network

I am pleased to announce that I have just formed a new financial advisory and placement firm, Yelton Capital Network, LLC.  Here is a summary of the services we offer:

Yelton Capital Network provides capital acquisition and advisory services for small to medium sized companies nationwide. We assist companies in finding asset based loans, equipment loans, real estate loans, healthcare loans, factoring services, unitranche funding and other sources of capital. 

Through a network of thousands of lenders and financial professionals, YCN brings new efficiency to the capital marketplace. From $500,000 to $50 million in funding, Yelton Capital Network can provide the financing to fuel almost any viable business in the U.S. 

With almost forty years of lending experience working with billions in funding requests, Managing Partner Barry Yelton has the expertise, contacts, experience, and integrity to assist companies in their search for capital. 

We use a proactive effort, exclusive contacts, and technology to make the search for funding a simple process. We work primarily on contingency, so the borrower owes nothing until they have financing acceptable to themselves. Other services, such as loan package preparation, are available a negotiated rates.

Visit our website!  Yelton Capital Network.

The Season of The Crow is in progress

The sequel to Scarecrow in Gray is about 80% complete. I hope to have it finished and ready for publication by late Summer.

Please stay tuned. If you liked Scarecrow in Gray, I believe you will enjoy the new book even more. It is much more textured, with more intertwining story lines, and overall I believe it to be a better work. However, that will ultimately be for the reader to decide.

I have been very pleasantly surprised at the praise Scarecrow in Gray received, and still receives. It is of course still in print and still selling at a modest level.

I sincerely appreciate everyone who has read Scarecrow, and On Wings of Gentle Power, my little poetry book with photos by Al Past.  It is humbling and gratifying to know that one has produced something that gives pleasure to others, and hopefully some meaning and understanding to what we call the Civil War.

I will provide updates as publication nears for The Season of the Crow.

God bless.

Which is Most Dangerous, Big Corporations or Big Government?

Liberals like to assail “big corporations” as evil, mindless, greedy, etc.  While big government is sort of like a teddy bear, warm and cuddly, and like a rich uncle who spoils you with good things.  These notions are underpinnings of left wing thought, and not only are they erroneous, but they are dangerous as well.  So let’s do a little factual comparison of “big government” versus “big corporations.” 

First is ownership and control, because he who owns ultimately controls.  For big corporations ownership is almost invariably spread among literally millions of small shareholders, who either own their publicly traded stock directly, or who own them through a mutual fund in their 401K or IRA, or own them through investments by their pension fund;  so big corporations are owned by the people.

Theoretically big government is owned by the people as well, since we pay the taxes that support it.  Our control is dependent on the government acknowledging that the people are in control, not the President or Congress.  However, once the government official is elected, he cannot easily be replaced for at least two years in the case of the House, four years in the case of the President, and six years in the case of the Senate.  So control is sporadic, unlike a corporation, we cannot simply sell the stock and move on to invest in another corporation.  We are stuck with government we have, and the larger it becomes, the more control it exerts over our lives until freedoms disappear one by one and tyranny takes their place.

Which brings us to the issue of control over our lives. I will be the first to agree that many corporate CEO’s are grossly overpaid, especially those whose company’s stock is tanking and/or is experiencing losses under his or her leadership.  No doubt about it!  However, if I don’t like the way a company is being run, and I am an owner, I can sell my stock (perhaps at a loss) and move on to another one – a choice I am always free to make.

The government, however, is another story.  The take over of healthcare insurance is just one example of how government can poke its ugly nose into your business, like it or not.  Millions of people, most of whom probably voted for the current occupant of the White House, are shocked and stunned to learn that the insurance they once had, and were quite happy with, has been taken away.  In its place they are now forced to purchase more expensive insurance that meets what Uncle Sam deems to be minimum standards.  Huh?  We cannot buy a product unless the government deems it to be adequate by its own exalted decision?  If this is not tyranny of a sort, I don't know what is.

Not only are they (incompetently) forcing this down our throats, they are using OUR taxpayer money to promote it.  Worse, they have spent over one half of a billion dollars to create a web site, which doesn't work.  They had over three years to get it right and still it is a colossal dud!  Government efficiency at its best.  And of course if you are young and healthy and choose not to buy insurance, the government is going to penalize you.  The spineless Supreme Court, led by turncoat Chief Justice Roberts, approved this unconstitutional move by calling it a tax.  I suppose next speeding tickets will be a tax, or expired tag penalties, etc.

Banks and other big corporations have no leverage over us as individuals, unless we freely give it to them.  The same cannot be said of big government.  Big government has what is known as “police powers.”  In other words they can force you to pay taxes, obey the speed limit, and any other number of things, most of which are for the collective good.  However, big government tends to poke its nose increasingly into the affairs of people as it grows larger.  Most of the time this is well intentioned if sometimes misguided.  However, the risk becomes that the larger the government is, the more dangerous it potentially becomes to its citizens.

The warm and fuzzy government of today can become the tyrannous fascism of tomorrow.  Just ask the Germans, Russians, the Japanese, the Italians, the Chinese and countless other unfortunates who have fallen under tyranny’s sway, where free speech is forbidden and bucking “the state” can be a capital offense.  No corporation, repeat, no corporation can take away your freedom.  Big government can.

So which is the most dangerous, the big corporation or big government.  The answer is obvious to rational people, which by definition excludes the radical left which now controls the Democratic party and the Presidency.  Time to wake up and make a change.

My Old Friend

Some of you may wonder at the picture of the fellow at the top of this blog.  He was my good friend, adviser, colleague, and hiking buddy before his passing on March 7, 2009.  His name was Arthur H. "Bud" Wilson.  He was a few years older than me and retired from a successful career in the corporate world, living life as he pretty well pleased.

Married and divorced twice, he was a committed bachelor.  We co-founded the National Funding Association together, a financial networking group which merged with the Commercial Finance Association in 2012.  I leave his name and the picture of him hiking in the Black Mountains as a sort of memorial to a truly memorable man.

He was a fitness buff, woodsman, canner of food, great hiker, association leader, and investor.  I don't know if he was "the most interesting man in the world" as a beer commercial describes its lead character, but he was an interesting individual. He was always great to talk with, bounce ideas off of, and to just shoot the breeze.

He loved backpacking and he taught me much about the art, hazards, and beauty of the sport.  It is truly a way to experience nature like no other - just a good walk in the woods, mountains, or desert with no aim in mind except, as Bud would put it, "wilderness travel."

He was a man of strong opinions and long time friendships. He could be hard nosed when one disagreed with him, but his loyalty to his friends was never in doubt.

One does not have many true friends in this life, and when you lose one, it hurts. I noted when they held visitation at the funeral home, those most affected, outside his family, seemed to be his hiking buddies. They were the ones who shared the joys and the hardships of the trail, and had the time to get to know him away from the noise and clutter of everyday life.  That's why Bud Wilson's picture and dates of life are at the top of this page. He was one of a kind.

Songs to Remember?

I have always been and still am a big fan of good music of all descriptions, from Johnny Cash to Bach, from Jimi Hendrix to Percy Faith, from The Who to Enya.  I stand in awe of the artistry, creativity, and beauty that these and others bring to the art of music.

I recently watched a "docudrama" on a cable channel about the sad story of Phil Spector, a brilliant but very troubled individual, who was convicted in the killing of a young woman at his home. He was the creator of the "Wall of Sound" music production technique that won great acclaim in the early sixties and made stars of people like Ronnie Spector and The Righteous Brothers.  TRB's "You've Lost That Lovin's Feeling" still reigns as the most played song on the radio in history with over seven million airings.

The film opened with The Righteous Brothers' version of "Unchained Melody."  I was stunned again at the incredible beauty of the melody, and the soaring vocals of Bobby Hatfield, the tenor half of TRB. His range was simply stupendous and his handling of the lyrics and melody were transcendent.  Since I saw the Spector film, that melody has played in my head a thousand times.

I researched it and learned that it was a song written for an obscure prison movie called "Unchained."  It later became known as "Unchained Melody."  As a writer, the title to me seems a clever double entendre, since I always took it to mean that the melody itself was unchained and free to soar like the eagles. Whether or not that double meaning was intended, the song certainly deserves the appellation.  In my opinion it is truly one of the most beautiful and evocative melodies ever written, lending substantial power to its simple lyrics.

Needless to say, I am a big fan of the song, and rank it up there with other great songs.  Here is a list in no particular order or genre that I think are the very best.  What do you think?

O Come, O Come Emmanuel - Author Unknown
Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon and Garfunkel
Canon - Pachelbel
Watermark - Enya
Gettysburg (Movie Theme) - Randy Edelman

I am sure I will think of others, or they will simply come into my mind like phantoms in the night and gently guide me back to their unique and colorful world.

Of Mice and Men and Government Shutdowns

I know it may come as a terrible surprise to many, but there are worse things than a partial government shutdown.  I am sure there will be some inconveniences, and perhaps some will be more severe than merely not getting to hike in the Pisgah National Forest.  However, I for one have noticed no difference in my daily life.  Have you?  I would love to hear it if you have.  I doubt seriously that more than 1% of Americans felt any change at all (except of course federal government employees in "non essential" positions).  

The upside is we are actually saving some money.  The normal operating costs of many of these non-essential services is temporarily on hold.  Heaven knows, we could use a break.  With a $3.8 Trillion dollar budget and an almost $17 Trillion federal debt, the poor, over-burdened tax payer desperately needs some relief!  

And the notorious sequester?  You mean the government cannot operate with 2-3% less in revenue?  They sure thought the working taxpayers could when they raised the payroll tax 2% at the beginning of the year.

All these government "services" are not free. Sure, they may be free to those who do not work for them, but somebody has to pay.  That somebody is the taxpayer and most of us are a little sick and tired of being soaked here and there by every government agency coming and going.

Here is a list of taxes Americans pay, put together by goodcitizen.org:

Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
Capital Gains Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Court Fines (indirect taxes)
Dog License Tax
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel permit tax
Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon)
Hunting License Tax

Inheritance Tax Interest expense (tax on the money)

Inventory tax IRS Interest Charges (tax on top of tax)
IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Local Income Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Septic Permit Tax
Service Charge Taxes
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Taxes (Truckers)
Sales Taxes
Recreational Vehicle Tax
Road Toll Booth Taxes
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone federal excise tax
Telephone federal universal service fee tax
Telephone federal, state and local surcharge taxes
Telephone minimum usage surcharge tax
Telephone recurring and non-recurring charges tax
Telephone state and local tax
Telephone usage charge tax
Toll Bridge Taxes
Toll Tunnel Taxes
Traffic Fines (indirect taxation)
Trailer registration tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft registration Tax
Well Permit Tax

Workers Compensation Tax

Some of these are very small taxes, and some, like the federal income tax, are substantial. At some point there has to be a taxpayer revolt.  The TEA Party folks are getting a start on this.  For too long the takers in society, the Washington elite, and others have had their way, raising taxes and fees and spending like drunken sailors.  Wait, it's worse than that. When drunken sailors run out of money, they quit spending.  The government does not.  It's like the great Ronald Reagan once said, "Government is like the alimentary canal of a baby, with an insatiable appetite at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other."

It is past time for a change. 

My Woeful Neglect

Among all the various tasks any busy human undertakes, there is always it seems (at least in my experience) one area which, while important, remains set aside like some valuable antique of great value but which by time and exposure becomes more of a relic than a useful object.  Such is my blog, which has always been important, but yet now has been neglected yet again, set aside for more pressing business, or so such business seems.

I will endeavor to be more diligent (shouldn't be too hard given the level of diligence in the past year) and hopefully provide insights, information, writings, etc. that will hopefully enlighten, entertain, and uplift the reader.  It appears that readership of this blog is better than it was a year and a half ago, when I still posted semi-regularly.  That is encouraging.  I will try to make it worth your while.

It has been said that bloggers must blog.  So be it.  Here's to more regular verbal interlocution.  Comments are always welcome.

Cheers,

BY

Insightful Article by Tony Schwartz

This truly sums up one of the dilemmas of the age - information overload combined with technology dominance.

I highly recommend you read this.  Here is the link - http://bit.ly/L9TOKX.

Is Christianity Really, Really for Real?

The factors that answer the question for me most clearly have to do with the behavior of Christ’s followers, before and after his crucifixion. When Jesus was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane, his followers scattered like scared rabbits. Peter followed cautiously at a distance while the temple soldiers took him to the home of the high priest for a mock trial that was itself illegal according to Jewish law.

Peter then proceeded to deny he even knew Jesus – three times, just as the Savior had predicted. He then left the courtyard and the scriptures say he wept bitterly.

The rest of the remaining eleven disciples, minus Judas, the betrayer, who hanged himself, were likewise “unavailable for comment” while Christ was being beaten, brutally interrogated, and abused.  The disciples were strangely absent from the narrative when Christ was taken before the Roman authorities and reluctantly sentenced to death by crucifixion by the notorious Roman Governor Pilate.

Even as Christ was crucified, the Bible indicates that they watched “from afar off.” They clearly did not want to be implicated and maybe face the same fate as Jesus.

Why then, their sudden change of heart?  Why did they become the soldiers for God who willingly suffered abuse, humiliation, imprisonment, torture, and cruel deaths for the sake of a crucified Savior?  Either something happened that set fire to their very souls after the crucifixion or they were all nuts. No other explanation fits. The likelihood that they were all insane is of course slim and remote. These were intelligent people. They knew what they were doing.

What then about the apostle Paul? He persecuted Christians, throwing them into prison and was an accessory to their murders, all in the name of his religion. He was feared among the fledgling Christian community for his zeal and his ruthlessness. Then something happened on the road to Damascus, and he became arguably the greatest missionary who ever lived and a man who wrote a large part of the New Testament. Why? What sort of thing could logically happen to turn a committed Jew one hundred and eighty degrees in the other direction?

I believe the answer of course in all these instances is that they had an encounter with the risen Christ. Nothing else answers nor makes the slightest sense in the radical transformation that occurred in each of their lives.

Is Christianity for real?  I cannot answer the question for you. You must answer the question for yourself. However, I can testify to what I have seen and what I know. I can apply logic and reason, and arrive at the conclusion that there is no other reason Christ’s followers would have been so radically transformed other than that he rose from the dead. From scared mice scattering in all directions after Jesus’s crucifixion, to powerful expounders of the gospel. From despised persecutor of the early church, to committed follower of Christ. They all clearly encountered a fundamentally transformational event. They met the risen Christ.