Preparation for Town Management & Business Ownership

Who would have thought in 1983 that my friend, Lee would be an executive manager of a successful town and I'd would have owned a business for 28 years. 

We had just turned 16. We were idealistic young "bens" (boys trying to be men). School had just let out. For 9 months Lee was an experimental driver; one might call him a novice. Me on the other hand, I had only had my license for three months. But like most "country boys" we both had been driving the back roads since we were 13, praying we wouldn't get caught. I had a jack-up, large tired, roll-bar pick up strewn with KC 1,000,000 power spot lights. I considered myself a sophisticated redneck.

For months we had been dreaming about heading to the mountains.  Camping, experiencing nature as two independent men (or so we thought). So the week after school was released, we loaded up the bed of the truck with sleeping bags, lounge chairs, coolers, flashlights, food, a tarp and rope. Basically everything but a tent. Decidedly, we wanted to rough it. 

Cades Cove

In that day, 16 offered a little more confidence from parents. They endorsed our trip.

So with about $75 in our pockets each, we set out for Cades Cove, Tennessee. We made our way through Asheville and detoured through Cherokee. Winding our way up the mountain, we turned  at the Sugarland visitors center and headed along the Little River to the primitive camp ground and 11 mile loop road called Cades Cove.

Cades Cove, a valley surrounded by the tall green canopied Appalachian mountains is a popular destination in the Great Smoky Mountains.  Its a broad, verdant valley surrounded by mountains and is one of the most popular destinations in the Great Smokies. The 11 mile loop road offers some of the best opportunities for wildlife viewing in the park. On any given morning or afternoon, you can see large numbers of white tail, the occasional black bear, and smaller animals like coyote, ground hog, turkey, raccoon and skunk.

So when we arrived, we set up and organized our campsite. Using the tarp and the rope, we created our lien too shelter. Open air on the front and sides, it was our hope to protect us  from potential rain and morning dew. 1 out of two wasn't bad. It never rained while we were there. Roughing it meant sleeping bags, but we brought with us certain evidence of the city. We had two lounge chairs that folded out into a layout recliner. I'm certain my mother turn a few shades of tan laying in this orange poolside recliner over the past, but for now, it was supporting the comforts of my sleeping bag. Lee had a similar night-time heavenly rest.

The days were filled with exploring, sight seeing and wildlife appreciation. Despite our age, our personal wildlife was fairly tame as we were quite honestly two fairly innocent kids. I'd love to tell you that we created magnificent meals on an open fire, but our most impressive protein was a tube steak packaged by Oscar Meyer and our sweet course typically was a honey bun. I should include that our midday snacks were salted peanut butter crackers prepared by Lance. 

The test of friendship came one afternoon when we decided to visit the populated area called the Y. This was a rocky beach at the confluence of The Little River and West Prong Little River. As we had driven by earlier, it was populated by beach dwellers. They happened to be dressed as though they were at Myrtle Beach, so you can imagine the minds of two 16 year olds. So with our packed lounge chairs, we showed up at the beach. Both of us fair skinned from a winter and spring of long pants, we rested the legs of our beds in the water. Lee, the more righteous of the two of us, laid down and fell asleep. Me, on the other hand, felt the need to do a little reconnaissance. I was curious if any of these pretty young ladies were the welcome wagon for the Great Smokey Mountains. After about thirty minutes or so of talking with some of the locals, realizing that I wasn't interested in their Appalachia  demeanor, I made my skinny 125 pound way back to Lee. I'm certain he was dreaming about pretty girls, the mountain men that we were (or thought) and simply getting rest considering our taxing schedule we had created 

I'm not sure what got over me; was it the devil, was it mischief, or did I think Lee was overheating from the Tennessee hot sun. I had a plastic cup that had been filled with Cheerwine (Yes, no beer. We never drank the first sip of alcohol on this trip), I dipped it into the cold cold waters of the union created by the two rivers, and decided to give Lee a Methodist baptism, a sprinkling of water, however not on the head, but on the sunbaked belly of my good friend. I really don't remember anything about his response with the exception of the look on his face, and the fact that he turned over my lounge chair. I do remember laughing at myself and him. That caused the situation to get even worse. As the water cooled down his belly, time caused the situation to cool down. I think the only unholy words used on that trip was him calling me a Jackass. I guess the shoe fit.

We left our mark on Cades Cove and decided to drive through Gatlinburg to get to I-40. While we both thought we were sophisticated rednecks, we were able to see the real definition of rednecks in this narrow gap in the mountains. It was a Sunday, and probably out of obligation rather than reverence, we decided to attend the Gatlinburg Church of Christ.  Worn out, I quietly told Lee, "if i begin to fall asleep during the sermon, give me a nudge". During the singing my soul was stimulated enough to keep awake. However during the opening prayer, I caught myself nodding. When the preacher began speaking, I knew this was going to be challenging as his presentation was melancholy. Sure enough, about 5 minute into his sermon, my head felt like 50 pounds and I began to dose. Lee, a rule follower, gently shook my shoulder and like a car wreck with whiplash, my head came up. this happened about four times in the next 15 minutes, and finally with the same look that Lee had at the river, I said "leave me alone". The invitation song woke me up. 

We risked the norm that day by wearing shorts to church. In that day, casual and church was like 13 year olds and cigarettes. they didn't go. But we did that and was accepted. When we finally got to I-40 with the 3 hour ride ahead of us, Lee had this great idea. Since he didn't sleep through church, he decided to unfold his lounge chair and place it in the back of the truck. He must have looked great. Along with the roll bars and lights, I had a small rebel flag hanging on one side of the roll bar and an American flag on the other. Like Gettysburg must have been on July1-3 of 1863, Lee was lying between two opposing flag. He was not going to be fighting the blue or the gray, He was going to be fighting the sun. By the time we crossed into North Carolina, Lee was sound asleep. Having gotten my rest in church I was wide awake listening to Elvis Presley's American Trilogy. With a tank full of gas. I didn't stop until we were near hickory, when Lee and I both were not only awake but hungry, Lee rose from his reclined position, hopped off the tailgate of the truck and I saw something amazing. Lee's arms and legs were no longer fair skinned. In fact, they matched the color of red found on the American flag and rebel flag. He was burnt to a crisp. 

That trip was one of those monumental experiences from being a child to becoming  a man. We learned to cook, make up our bed, get along, handle conflict management, and the important use of sunscreen. Its a great memory. We rolled back into Mocksville with about $5 each in our pockets

I occasionally show up at Cades Cove. I still enjoy the scenery and always ride the 11 mile loop road to see the animals. As I cross the Y and look at the rocky beach, I always remember the spot where I almost got my neck broke (by Lee), and I am thankful for a friendship that has lasted since the 1st grade.

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Biological Siblings..Adoption reunion

I went to my brother-in-law's wedding in Edmonton,Canada in early February.  It was exciting and somewhat a feeling of completion to watch Jeffrey McGonigal march his beautiful bride down the isle.

The significance of this wedding is compounded by the fact that my wife has only known her brother since 1995. He's not 22, he is 40 years old.  The story of an adoption reunion that happen 22 years ago has taken Elizabeth and me to Canada many times, but most especially four incredible times, including this one.

During my search from 1992-1995 for my wife's birth mother, thoughts of brothers and sisters weren't the driving forces. However, after Elizabeth's realization that she was the oldest sister in a family, she shifted from being a middle child in her adopted family to the oldest in her biological family; literally overnight. When we first landed in Edmonton Alberta, we were a young 27 years  old married couple. Her new siblings were 13 to 24 years old. Like long lost relatives, we were both greeted with enthusiasm by each of them. Like a seed planted in the ground, a beautiful tree began to grow, now years later with such deep roots.

As I sit in seat 5A on American Airlines heading south, I am so happy that we were able to be a part of all four of their weddings... most recently Jeffrey to his new beautiful bride Nicole.

Kevin & Beverly McGonigal, their children and new bride Nicole

We have a very unique family. Being adopted at the age of 9 weeks, sent Elizabeth down a path that I believe inevitably lead her to me. With all the things that could have happened to her, being an unplanned birth was her destiny, growing up on a farm in Texas defined the person she is, leaving a 17 member high school class at the age of 16, as difficult as that was, all brought her  to the town of a 17 year old boy who would fall in love with her and in a few years, be driven to connect her to her biological roots.

As I watched Jeffrey's bride, Nicole, walk down the isle, I thought about how pretty she was...  but, I also thought about how in a million years , how we could have missed this day, these relationships, and these continued feelings of completion. After the wedding, I walked down to the chancel of the Catholic Church, looked up, and said "only you God could have written this story....Thank you".

T. Kyle Swicegood

My Friend Becky....My, she has a story!

I hope you enjoy this short story from my friend, Becky Tarlton. She is known all across North Carolina as a hardworking and honest auctioneer. Everybody's got a story....I think you'll enjoy hers!

T. Kyle

Shake my hand.  Good to see you.  I like an affirmative handshake.  There was a time when a contract was made and blessed with the shaking of hands.  My how things have changed.  How many times have you heard these sayings?  A person is only as good as their word.  A person’s word is their bond.  If you can’t say something good then say nothing at all.  Treat others as you wish to be treated.  There are many more but how many do we really try to live by?  I am sure we all fall short in some way or another.  I speak of my Dad every chance I get.  I always found him to be congenial with me and with others.  I never heard a cross word exchanged between he and my Mom.  Actually never heard him say a curse word until one time he was trying to load a very stubborn mule.  He and the mule were at odds.  He was hot and sweaty and so was the mule.  The mule kicked at him and he gave that ole mule a piece of his mind.  I immediately tattled on him.  My Dad was one of eleven children.  His own father passed away in the flu epidemic of 1918.  His mom remarried, but he also passed leaving the family to take care for themselves.   My dad started working in the Dan River Mill when he was 9 years of age.  His salary was to maintain the family.  While working in the mill he started trading horses and mules.  Keep in mind that in those days the farming as well as travel was via livestock.  Then came a time that my Dad was sick but still worked his mill shift.  The supervisor informed him he would be required to make a double shift.  He was sick and needed to go home.  He was told if he went home not to come back.  That was his last day in the mill.  He started trading to make a living.  The year was 1922 and trade was busy.  He traveled from county to county for court day.  On the day court was held in the county seat all the folks traveled to town.  Brought their wares to trade, buy and sale.  Dad said he always tried to end the day with a good saddle horse so travel to the next town would not be so hard on his bottom.  There were few hotels and he couldn’t afford one anyway.  He slept in cemeteries.  He claimed the deceased didn’t mind and the live ones didn’t linger around at night.  After hobbling the horses so they could graze he would bed down for the night.  During the trade days the farmers would bring in their cattle and horses for auction.  During the auction my Dad would be hooking horses behind the platform.  The teams were called snatch teams.  The farmers could see them work before purchase.  While my Dad was working he would me listening to and mimicking the auctioneer. 

On one such occasion the auction began but the auctioneer was less than competent.  The farmers were loosing excessive money.  They physically made the auctioneer leave the premises.  But then there was the dilemma.  There was a field of livestock and no auctioneer to work.  Someone exclaimed, get the kid in the back hooking teams.  He can sell the stock and he knows stock prices.  They put my Dad on the block that day and many days there after. 

His career started that day in 1926.  He continued to trade and auction.  He would bring horses in from the Dakotas via rail car.  He would have holding pens set up for their arrival and customers waiting to purchase as soon as the train arrived.  He had a livery stable in downtown Salisbury in an area known as Hogan’s Alley.  He would auction several horse and cattle sales per week.  By the 40’s and early 50’s he had several drivers hauling livestock from state to state.  Local farmers depended on him for good work stock to take care of their crops.  They would choose a work type horse early in the Spring and pay for it after the crops came in.  If the crops failed they would bring the horse back with their apologies.  The next year he would supply them another horse and wish them a better year.

My growing up years was filled with horses, mules and cows.  And of course the auction chant was a large part of my every day life.  My dad would work auctions that would last all day, all night and into the next day.  He would be weary and so tired when finally coming home.  There was his little girl ready to crawl in his lap.  Happy for his return, I would say, Daddy will you auction something for me?  You know that man’s voice was tired and his body was weary.  He would say,  Aww right now, take a look at it and what do ya want to give for it…and so it began.  I loved to hear him work.  My happiest days were spent on the auction block beside my dad.  I would not get down, just lay my head down and take naps.  Sometimes they let me ride the horses and ponies through the sale.  I would ride so many that I would fall asleep in the saddle while waiting my turn in the ring. 

At home I would stand on a box while auctioning to a make believe crowd.   I always desired to be an auctioneer.  My dad really tried to discourage me.  He knew the things that I enjoyed and would want to auction were reserved for men only.   So I started working retail while still in high school.  I continued to work and attend community college.  I did retail management for years and finally an armed nuclear security officer for McGuire Nuclear Station.  After all of that came a family.  Thankfully my three boys enjoyed horses as much as myself.  We traveled showing horses as well as participating in rodeo events.  At one such event they needed an auctioneer to sell their “Calcutta” riders.  There was no one to be found.  Someone said get Becky to do it.  I did and once again I had that burning desire to be an auctioneer. 

In 1987 I attended auctioneer school and things have never been the same since then.  It was a rigorous two weeks of study.  We were learning numbers, contracts and all the different kinds of auctions.  I met some wonderful people in that class and we are still friends today.  I believe there were about 63 students in that class.  When my Dad attended the student auction he listened attentively.  I ask him later what he thought and did he see future auctioneers.  He said yes there were several he thought would make it.  I ask him if I was one of them…all he did was raise his eyebrows.  I have seen that look many times in the past…like when he thought I paid too much for a horse or saddle.

My auction career started as a bid caller.  You know that is what I thought an auctioneer really was.  I sold at horse auctions in several locations.  Finally in 1995, I was hired at my first auto auction.  It was a big thing for me as well as all women.  Until that that day in June there were no female auto auctioneers in North Carolina.  I was such a novelty that when I would start selling the dealers from the other lanes would crowd into my lane just to hear the lady work.  Even now when I am at a commercial farm equipment auction it is usually an all male environment.  I like it…doesn’t bother me a bit.  I love the auction industry.  I must admit there have been lots of changes since those days of listening to my Dad.  Hand shakes are just that…a shake. 

You better have a good attorney written contract and sometimes those are not even good enough.  We do have a licensing board that does its best to weed out less desirable and corrupt people calling themselves auctioneers.  Our state provides continuing education to keeps us informed of new laws as well as helpful ideas and ways to improve our businesses.  The other big thing since I began is the Internet and online auctions.  Many of us have fought this modern age miracle but I believe this enhances our auctions.  I am not sure what my Dad would say about online and simulcast auctions but I believe he would be all for it.  He always believed a person could not have too much education and that we should try to learn something new everyday.  He did not have the opportunity for education.  His learning was self-taught through working and yet he was one of the smartest people I knew.  He could calculate in his head faster than you could enter it into a calculator.  He watched world and local news every day.  If he heard something he could remember every word.  If he saw your buyer number one time at the auction he would recall it. 

Any one that knows me surely knows I love the auction chant and the action of a live auction.  However these days I spend many hours cataloging for online only as well as live auctions.  We spend time with auction previews as well as auction checkouts.  In this day there is room for all of them.  We are so fortunate to be able to practice the way that is best for our seller and ourselves.  I am so pleased to be an auction professional.  My Dad was an auctioneer for his entire life.  He only slowed down when his vision would not allow him to see the bidders.  He might not could see them as well as he once did but he could still call the auction right up until he passed in 1996.  I was very blessed with loving parents and a Dad who was a good and kind person…and one great auctioneer!!

Post Comment: You can reach Becky on Facebook here! . I encourage you to reach out to her and give her your thoughts about her story!

John Caudle Interview, World War II Part 2

John Caudle, Part 2. An interview with a hero!

John Caudle and his B-29 Crew. Photo most likely taken at Tinian Island

This post is a followup to part 1 of an interview I conducted with John Caudle, a Farmington, NC World War II veteran. I think you will really enjoy this time I spent with John. You can see in his eyes the reflections of 65 years.

Enjoy


T. Kyle

John Caudle, Farmington, NC World War II Hero

Meeting John Caudle in 2009 was a rich experience. John was scheduled to be on the first rounds of veterans going on the Triad Flight of Honor, a trip for World War II veterans to see their memorial.  
To describe John,  I would call him a humble gentleman. By age 18, he was stripped from his country roots and traveled all across our country and even a small island in the pacific, Tinian.

A young John Caudle during the  war.

This island was the launching pad for the Enola Gay, a plane that was engaged in the paramount event of World War II and will forever be engraved in the annals of American World War II history.  Caudle knew the bombardier of this famous plane, John Ferebee, who was from the same small county in North Carolina. 
John served as a tail-gunner in a B-28.

I hope you enjoy this reflection John offers, a relection over 60 years after this amazing experience.

 Click to watch part 1 of his story.

James Foster, A Cooleemee World War II Hero

In 2009,  it was my great honor to take James Foster from Cooleemee on the Triad Flight of Honor to Washington, DC.  Mr. Foster demonstrated a meek, kind demeanor. You'll hear him talk about working triage the day Eisenhower pushed the American troops on the banks of Normandy.  Later, he found himself post Battle of the Bulge liberating concentration camps. I think you will be moved by this great American!

 

Click to watch interview

John Barber...Gone but not forgotten. A World War II Veteran

One of the great memories I will cherish for a lifetime was my participation on the Triad Flight of Honor committee.  Together, with the support of Rotary 7690 and citizens all across the Triad, we took over 1300 veterans to see their memorial.  Listening to these veteran, I learned so much of what made our country strong.

A World War II veteran that was known by many in Davie County, North Carolina was John Barber. I hope you will enjoy this 20 minute interview with a gentleman, a veteran, a public servant and loving husband.....John Barber.

Click to watch the video