Our
State/April/Tar Heel People/1,644 words
A
Tale of Two Harkers Islanders
Tradition
bonds these two Down East residents.
By
Ralph Grizzle
They
are builders, one of boats, the other of stories. And they are
friends, David Yeomans and James Allen Rose. They share a love
of Harkers Island, Cape Lookout and the waters they have looked
out upon all of their lives. And they share a love of tradition
and the way of life they are helping to preserve.
Born
in 1921, David Yeomans was "conceived" at Cape Lookout
but born at Harkers Island. "There were no midwives on the
Cape," he explains. "So I was born here, christened
in the Methodist Church, then taken back to the Cape." At
age 6, his family came back to Harkers Island so David could attend
school. Now nearing 80, he still owns a home at the Cape (until
a federal lease expires in a couple of years) but lives in Harkers
Island.
The
Yeomans have been residents of Harkers Island for more than 175
years, "the longest of any family on the island," David
boasts. They came from England, by way of Barbados. To hear David
talk, it's apparent that he's still connected to his ancestral
home. He speaks with the thick Elizabethan dialect that is characteristic
of the Harkers Islanders. "Tourists often ask me if I'm from
England," he says with a laugh. David pronounces the vowel
"i" as "oi," thus "high tide" become "hoi
toid," and "five" becomes "foive." The vowel
combination "ou" is pronounced as a short "o,"
making "ground" sound like "grond."
Builder
of Stories
David's
dialect and his sense of story make him an engaging storyteller.
He has a bagful of them, but one of the best of his stories harks
back to the time when David's father served as justice of the
peace and was defending a young man named Ivy Scott. Ivy had been
caught selling illegal whiskey. The story begins with Ivy's mother
and father coming to the elder Yeomans to ask for his help.
They
came to the house and said, "Mr. Yeomans don't let them put
our boy on the chain gang." And my father said, "Well,
I'm supposed to convict him, but I'll do the best I can."
When
the day came for the trial, everybody went over to Beaufort on
the mailboat. But when we got there, we were told the judge's
mama had died the day before and the case would be canceled for
a week. So we got on the mailboat and came on home. On the way,
my father says to Ivy: "Maybe I can get you out of this.
I know that judge real well. I knew his mama. I know how hurt
he is. You come to my house tonight."
He
wanted Ivy, who was a great fiddler and singer, to learn to play
"If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again." My father told Ivy: "We've
got to hit that judge in the heart to get you out of this."
Ivy went on home, and we could hear him over there real late that
night practicing that song.
The
time came for the case to be tried. Ivy had the song down pat.
Meanwhile, my father had arranged for three or four character
witnesses. He also told Ivy's mother, "You look like the
judge's mama. I want you to wear your bonnet and sit right behind
me so that judge has got to look right at you all the time. And
I want you to say ‘My boy, my boy,' and sniff once in awhile."
Everybody
liked Ivy. That was the first time I knew he had gotten in any
trouble. Times was real hard back there. I knew the fella that
had the illegal whiskey, because he told me in later years. He
had a lot of the whiskey, and he said, "Ivy, we ain't catching
no fish. If you want to take some of this whiskey and try to sell
it and get us a dollar or two, go ahead." Of course, Ivy
got caught.
So
we got on the mailboat and went to Beaufort. The courtroom was
filled. I sat right behind my father and Ivy Scott and his mother
and father on the front row. The judge came in, and said: "The
State vs. Ivy Scott. How do you plead, Mr. Scott?" My father
stood up and said, "Your Honor, he pleads guilty--caught
in the act. Here it is. I have the evidence right here."
Then
my father paused and said, "But your Honor, it would be a
shame to send this young man on the road. The talent he has, your
Honor–why he's already putting his talent to do the Lord's
work. You should hear him sing."
The
judge said, "Okay, I'll listen to him. Mr. Scott, go ahead."
Now
the judge, he didn't know what was coming on. Ivy got that fiddle
out, and he touched her once or twice. This was the master fiddler
of Harkers Island. He touched that fiddle again and started, "Lord,
if I could hear my mother pray again. If I could hear her tender
voice as then. How happy I would be, would mean so much to me,
if I could hear my mother pray again."
Well,
the tears started running right down that judge's cheeks and dropping
in the floor. He would shake–he would put his head in his
hands. Everybody was sniffing. Ivy's mother was crying, "My boy,
my boy!"
Ivy
began to put it to the judge. "If I could hear..." The judge reached
down in his pocket and got his handkerchief. He wiped his eyes.
My father said, "Ivy that's enough." The judge wiped
his eyes again, regained his composure and looked out at Ivy's
mother and father sitting there. He motioned for my father to
come up to the bench.
"Captain
Yeomans," the judge says, "take that young man home
and keep him out of trouble."
Everybody
got up, relieved and walked out of the courtroom. We headed to
the mail dock, all singing, "If I could hear my mother pray again."
<end
italics>
Builder
of Boats
James
Allen Rose defers to his old friend when it comes to storytelling,
but when it comes to boat-building, Rose wins hands down. Like
David, James Rose is a lifelong Harkers Islander. In fact, he
can trace his ancestral roots back to 900 A.D., to the Normandy
region of France. His ancestors eventually went north, to England
and Scotland, before crossing the Atlantic to settle in North
Carolina's Dare County in 1650.
Rose's
ancestors slowly began to migrate south. In 1840, his great grandfather
sailed a two-masted schooner from Dare County to the community
of Atlantic, at the northern reaches of Core Sound. He had come
to fish, but his schooner's draft was too deep, so he constructed
a shallow-draft boat, a forerunner to the famed "Core Sound
Flat Bottom Round Stern Inverted Rake Stem Sharpy," probably "the
longest name of any existing boat," Rose says with a laugh.
Rose's
great grandfather passed the boat down to his son, Rose's grandfather,
who regularly sailed from Atlantic to Marshallberg, at the southern
end of Core Sound, to pick up his date and take her out sailing.
They tied the knot in 1899 and settled nearby. Rose was "conceived"
in the area, but he was born in Southampton, New York, where his
mother stayed for six weeks before returning to Harkers Island.
Rose has been home ever since.
And
when he's home, he's likely building miniature boats. Since age
10, he's handcrafted nearly 3,000 model clippers, schooners, skiffs
and other sailing vessels. People come from all reaches of the
globe to purchase his boats, which sell for as much as $1,500
each.
That's
a long way from the model Core Sound Flat Bottom Skiffs that he
sold for $2. Of course, he was only 12 years old at the time,
and $2 wasn't a bad wage. Materials were cheaper then, too. The
youngster shaped his boats from the slats in white pine produce
crates. Today, the craftsman imports his wood from as far away
as Indonesia, though he's just as likely to work with local hardwoods
and softwoods. He prefers to work with white tupelo and cypress–both
produce a very flexible wood, perfect for model boatbuilding.
"If the lumber comes from the stump or below, I can cut a
strip 5/16-inch wide and tie a knot in it," Rose says.
One
thing that hasn't changed since the days when all he had was a
rusty Barlow knife that he sharpened on an old red clay brick
is the way that Rose does his work: all by hand, even the 1 7/8-inch
Core Sound Dead Rise Sprit Sail that he gave to a good customer
in Danville, Virginia. (Rose's wife makes the sails, by the way.)
The small boat was the most difficult one he's ever done.
Of
course, all of his boats would be difficult to build for you or
me. Miniature boat building takes a lot of skill. And perhaps
more important, it takes infinite patience. "You have to
hold the pieces of wood together until the glue tacks," he
says. "Sometimes that can take up to 30 minutes."
So
what does he do during those 30-minute sessions when his hands
are occupied? He thinks of music (a guitar player, Rose signed
on with the Coastal Playboys in 1955–these days, he performs
for benefits and parties with his cousin and oldest son).
Rose
has been called the Chet Atkins of Harkers Island, although he
blushes at the suggestion. That's OK, though–he's getting
used to blushing. He recently won the North Carolina Heritage
Award for his boat-building skills and music. Four years ago,
he was the recipient of the North Carolina Folklore Award.
Like
his old friend David Yeomans, Rose prefers not to leave the island
too often. "My scales will dry out," he jokes. Harkers
Island is home, a place where great men build great things.
