Back in 1963 on a spring college break my friend Franz and I paid a visit to some friends in Madison County, North Carolina. We were into folk music and one of their neighbors was Obray Ramsey. The music was great and we certainly enjoyed the mountain landscape. But before we left, we wanted to pick up some "white lightning."

Well, connections were soon made with another neighbor, Otto, who said he'd take us with him the next day and see that we got a crate of the elixir. All we had to do was help him load and unload the truck. Sounding like a deal. So early the next morning we helped load up the truck with locust poles and off we rambled, stopping here and there, dropping off poles, chatting with neighbors, Otto disappearing in the bush and then re-appearing, wiping his lips and saying"No, let's drive on." Well, he finally found a batch that met his standards, but not until the entire load of locust poles were distributed over 100 square miles of Southern Appalachia.

And that night we got to sample some of the brew, cut with cider and it had a terrific impact. All I know is I awoke late in the morning in the corner of the cabin with a bucket in front of me. I was still catatonic and I even let Franz drive as we began the trek back to Maine.

Oh, at one point when we pulled into a little town in Virginia for lunch, we noticed that the trunk lid had popped open, displaying our crate of mason jars to whoever might have been concerned. Our white lightning was, indeed, a big hit when we eventually made our way back to campus. It certainly was a radical shift from our previous diet of Southern Comfort.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble