Loops and Fireworks

Abstract

HEIRLOOM Loops and Fireworks Les Brown North Cove, North Carolina, lies in one of "The Loops" of the Clinchfield Railroad, a series of switchbacks that gently descend the rugged Blue Ridge Mountains from Spruce Pine. The grade is gouged through nineteen tunnels and many deep cuts to level out in the foothills at Marion. The railroad carries coal from the mines ofWest Virginia and Kentucky to the soudieast coast. Among my most vivid memories ofNorth Cove are those ofthe huge black steam locomotives and the lonesome wail ofthe whistle. I remember the sound abruptly dying as the train went into Honeycutt Tunnel behind the house where I was born. The hot boxes ofthe brakes glowed bright red as hundreds ofwheels pressed against the steep four-mile loop. High clouds ofsteam rushed from the stacks on cold winter days as the powerful locomotives crawled up the mountains. Now and then one of the trains derailed, folding itself in a cut or down a fill, interrupting the slow pace ofthe vaUey. Folks would rush to pick up the free coal for their winter fires. I always hoped for candy or toys. Sometimes a box would break, sending glowing steel off the tracks, catching the mountain on fire. The men ofthe cove would hurry to keep the fires from racing with the converting wind up the side ofthe mountain. North Cove had a Uttle depot on the CUnchfield called Linville Station. The name didn't make sense, but the wealthy who summered fifteen miles away in the resort town of Linville wanted the name recognition . Until the late 1940s the station served passenger trains, which have since disappeared from the route. IronicaUy, as isolated from the world as we were, we could catch the train to anywhere from just a mile up the road. We can't do that today. The depot also served a huge packing house owned by Ed Robbins. He hauled shrubbery from Blue Ridge Nursery at Pineola, about ten miles up Linville Mountain, to be shipped out by rail Les Brown, born and raised in North Cove Valley of northern McDowell County, North Carolina, isprofessor ofbiology at Gardner-Webb University in Boiling Springs, North Carolina. He haspresented papers at the North Carolina Academy ofScience and the Appalachian Studies Conference. 48 My family used the depot as a way to get fireworks, which were illegal in North Carolina. We had great shipments brought in from Zebra Fireworks Company up north. We saved our money all year and pored over the Zebra catalog for our Christmas order; we bought them by the case. Excitement built for weeks until the train brought the prized cargo. The Christmas fireworks display and the powerful reports ofnow-ülegal M80's, double shots, aerial and cherry bombs were shared by the whole valley. My dad was never content with the power ofthe fireworks, but he always wanted the biggest, loudest aerial bomb ever built. Maybe it was because he was the youngest and smallest offive brothers. So he searched all ofthe catalogues ofthe fireworks companies for the pinnacle ofpower. He found it. Everyone would know that the explosion that was to rock the silence from a thousand feet above the valley was caused by Gene Brown's big red ten-dollar aerial bomb. It stood eighteen inches high with a diameter of four inches, a five-inch fuse and six-inch square wooden base. It was magnificent, made by Black Cat Fireworks in Akron, Ohio. The money he saved for it would have bought a large assortment of Roman candles, rockets, double shots, pinwheels, fountains, ladyfingers, side loaders, and cherry bombs, not counting the regular little firecrackers with the gray paper fuses that came in packs you could light all at once. Instead, all his money went for the big show. Dad was at the depot early each day, sitting on one ofthe big green freight wagons on the platform beside the tracks, waiting. FinaUy, one day, the train hissed to a stop. Sam Brown, the Stationmaster, shoved the latch open, disappearing into the darkness ofa red boxcar. He came back with a single box and handed it down to Dad, label side up. "To Gene...