Tag Archives: Appalachia

Appalachian Asylums and the Goatman

Nationality: American
Age: 24
Occupation: Writer
Residence: Los Angeles
Language: English

Informant: “So, in Frederick Marlyand, Western Marlyand near the Appalachians, there’s a lot of remote towns. Especially back in the 1920s, there used to be a lot of quote unquote insane asylums out there. Basically, there was one out in Frederick, and after it had been shut down, it was overgrown. The building was abandoned there, so kids would go explore. Legends cropped up about people who had been left behind, including some doctors who did experiments on the patients. You know kids and their imaginations. However, there were apparently sightings of a goat man. Like a satyr but the other way around. Goat head, but with the lower body of a man. They said the goat man was a doctor who worked there who did all these crazy experiments on people and then did experiments on himself after he had no people to experiment on. There’s a lot of other stories I heard when I lived there, but the goat man always stood out to me as one of the more believable ones.”

Me: “Do you believe it?”

Informant: “I know the asylum is real. The building itself is 100% real. You’ll find them all over that area. I’ve never seen the goat man, but I will say when I hiked there, you could see why people would think they’re real. I was out there by myself once, waiting for my group to find me, and I felt this dread that was so palpable. No one was there, but I can understand how your mind would play tricks on you. The Appalachians are scary alone. I’m a sceptic, but never say never. Anytime someone told a story about the goat man, it’s like, ya know, who am I to say it didn’t happen?”

Context: The informant said they have heard hundreds if not thousands of these stories while living near the Appalachian mountains. They are an avid hiker and interested in folklore, so it makes sense they would have heard so many. He seems to look at the story of the goatman as mostly for fun. Something kids joke about. However, it is clear that they think there is some validity to the supernatural nature of the Appalachian mountains.

Analysis: Something I discussed with the informant is how these kinds of stories are likely a manifestation of the remoteness when living in such an area. With so much wildlife, untouched forest, and no other people around, it’s easy to read into things. I believe these stories are a reflection of that environment. Rather than revealing something about the culture, I would say these stories reveal a lot more about the way our mind fills in the gaps when left on its own. Something else we discussed was the “not-deer” and how easy it would be to get freaked out by a deer standing on its hind legs if you’ve been alone in the forest for days. It is easy to see how these stories propagate in such a remote area.

Ghost story in the woods- JH

Age: 18

Date of interview: 12/01/24

Informant Name: JH

Language: English

Collector’s name: LP

Nationality: USA

Occupation: College Student

Primary Language: English

Residence: Appalachia in Pennsylvania

The cold October rain trickled down my neck, causing me to shiver. But I don’t feel cold, not really. I’m angry. I’m angry and sitting down to talk about it makes it worse. I’m angry and I need this time alone. The cold 40-degree downpour was necessary to clear my mind. The edge of the woods seems the best place to get this alone time. I had to have been not in my right mind. I never would have been here if I was. I heard the screams and felt the terror those brought me. I felt the fear choke me up when the screams would move down the valley far, far too fast to be anything real. I saw the way those screams caused my father to halt in his tracks while we were out late. I heard his voice tremble with fear as he refused to recount his encounter with the Screaming Thing to me.
But that wasn’t on my mind right now, it was only the annoyance of the argument I had just had that pulled me down that hill to stand at the edge of the trees. The raindrops hit and ricochetted off of the water of the pond in front of me. They cracked down on my scalp. They slammed into the blades of grass and leaves surrounding me, making it hard to hear anything.
But still, I heard it. Faint, down the valley, barely a threat. I wasn’t scared, I was still angry. And I had no reason to be afraid, clearly. The screams remained at the end of the valley as I stood my silent ground against the world. A minute passed, then two, then three. Nothing was happening, and nothing would happen, I knew.
Until I took a step. A light shuffle. My legs were growing numb from the rain and standing locked in the same position. Nothing. The screaming stopped for a second, then sounded again—much, much closer. My skin began to crawl, those minute of ignoring the rain trailing down my spine catching up to me. I shiver violently. I feel my breathing go faster, and my heart is speeding up too. I take another step, and another, and another. It’s a walk for the first 4 steps, but the thing is halving the distance every step I take. I trip, stumbling up the hill I walked down to get here. It’s so close. I stand up and sprint. It’s on me now, and the darkness it brings presses on the edges of my vision, becoming more centered until I can’t see. I keep running, but It’s there. Infinitely loud, my heart is beating out of my chest. I keep running, hoping I don’t run into anything. It’s so loud, so loud…
Then nothing. The screaming stops, and the darkness lifts off my vision. I hit the ground for the second time. I’ve fallen just inside of the floodlight spilling from the garage. It’s stopped and I’m safe. Shaking and scared out of my mind, but safe.

Never close a knife y’a didn’t open

Background:

The informant is my papaw, KB, who is 68 years old and lives in Huntsville, TN, where I grew up. He was raised in the backwoods of an Appalachian region of Kentucky. He had lots of odd sayings and beliefs, but there is one superstition that I vividly remember throughout my childhood.

Main Piece:

When I was young, I would often help my papaw work on stuff around the house or outside, which of course required tools, including the classic pocket knife.

KB-I remember when you couldn’t figure out how to close the knife, but I just couldn’t help you. I had to explain why I couldn’t, so I told you what I had always been taught. It’s bad luck to close a knife you didn’t open.

Interviewer- What would happen if you did?

KB- I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out. I just know it brings bad luck, especially with that knife, some say you end up accidentally stabbing yourself with it.

Analysis:

This superstition is one that my grandpa holds as a concrete rule of life, and for some reason, I do too. I do not necessarily believe I will have bad luck, but it’s a belief that’s been embedded in me. The power of folk belief is so strong that even though there is no evidence to support it, a multitude of people believe it. Though I could not find the origin of this folk belief, I did read about it on Appalachian Folklore pages, suggesting it was most commonly known in that region. There is an overarching theme of importance that Southern men assign to their tools, specifically their pocket knives. In my town, it’s a guarantee that if you look in a man’s pocket, you’ll find one, even in schools is extremely common. Therefore, it makes sense that folk beliefs would arise regarding the sacred tool. There could have been an ownership aspect to the beginning of the superstition. Perhaps the only person allowed to open and close the knife would be its rightful owner, promising if someone borrowed it, they would have to give it back or face a stroke of bad luck.

Can you get me a glass of water?

Nationality: American
Age: 24
Occupation: AWS consultant
Residence: New York City
Performance Date: 4-3-23
Primary Language: English

Context:

The informant, JB, is my older brother who is twenty-four and currently lives in New York City. We both grew up in a small town in Tennessee surrounded by our close family. The story I interviewed him about is very well known throughout our family and is centered around our grandfather and his supernatural experience in rural Kentucky.

Main Piece:

JB’s summary of the story- Papaw was at a little store/restaurant in Kentucky, and he sat on a stool and ordered a Pepsi at the counter. While the lady was opening his drink an old, straggly looking man with long white hair and a long white beard sat down beside him. He asked papaw to order him a class of water, which he did. The man drank the water and then got up and walked towards the door. As he reached for the door, he looked back at papaw and said something he couldn’t understand. He got to go after the man and see what he said but the mysterious man had disappeared, and no one outside seen him. Three or four years later, in the middle of the night, Papaw was woken up by someone pulling him out of his bed, and I think the first few times he assumed it was Mamaw or mom messing with him. The last time was really aggressive, so he was wide awake and at the foot of his bed was man from that little restaurant with a long white beard and hair. He looked at papaw and said, “I’ll come back one more time, just one more time” then he disappeared; at the time, Mamaw was wake in the living room and didn’t hear or see anything.

Interviewer- Who told you this story for the first time?

JB- Papaw told me when I was younger, but Mamaw and mom referenced the story all the time. Mamaw always that she believed it was true because of how scared papaw was after it happened. She always said it was some kind of angel.

Interviewer- So what was your interpretation of it?

JB- It sounds like some kind of omen, but the time difference is weird since the man came back just a few years later but it’s been at least forty years since it happened. Maybe the 3rd time will be before he dies.

Analysis:

My grandpa’s supernatural encounter can be categorized as a folk legend since he, and the rest of our family considers it to be true. This is my family’s most passed around piece of folklore, so we all develop different interpretations of what this meant.  The way that I interpreted the legend was that of warning, and moral upkeep. Although the story is unique to my grandpa, it contains common motifs of folklore like a figure with a long white beard, the significant group of 3s, and proverbial warnings. Folklorists have consistently found that supernatural legends often develop during times of stress or change as a way to cope. Given my grandfather’s religious background, the man could have represented a pure figure, like an angel, coming to check on the state of his soul. Along with that, the threat of the man coming back at random could act as a deterrent of immoral acts. Although I don’t know if my grandpa was engaging in bad behaviors, it is common for spirits to function as a way to externalize negative feelings, perhaps guilt in this case.

Redneck Joke

Nationality: American
Age: 25
Occupation: Student
Residence: San Diego
Performance Date: Feb 2022
Primary Language: English
Language: none

Text: 

Q: Do you have any jokes you remember from back home.

R: “How to tell if you are a redneck”, people always said those

Q: So do you remember any redneck jokes in particular.

R: I think one went, how do you know if you are a Redneck? 

Q: How?

R: When your your wife has less teeth than your Jack O lantern

Q: Oh my God I can hear J*** J**** telling that one. That was good thanks

Context: THis was a joke told in the early teen years in Southwest Pennsylvania. Many of these jokes were around at the time. The informant was 14 or so at the time and heard it from one of his peers. 

Analysis: This joke was actually told by my brother so I have a good insight into the culture it came out of myself. We lived on a small collective in Southwest Pennsylvania about ten miles from West Virginia in the heart of Appalachia. These jokes were very funny because they were so relatable. We lived among Rednecks but were not Rednecks so it was easy to make jokes about. This is to me a clear example of Blason Populaire, jokes or belief about a specific group.