Appalachia and Garrett County, MD History: Appalachia

For more than 20 years historians have expressed the critical need for a single-volume history of Appalachia in Virginia. Responding to this demand, the author of this text has woven together the various strands of the Appalachian experience into a sweeping whole.

It was in the early 1900s atop a summit in Vermont that Benton MacKaye envisioned a hiking path along the crest of the Appalachians, beginning in the New England states and extending to those in the South. Along the Appalachian Trail: Massachusetts, Vermont, and New Hampshire chronicles the history of the world-famous route in those states, from New England's hiking and trail-building culture that predated and paved the way for the trail to those who toiled to create it and those who have continued to hike and protect it. Today's trail is vastly different from its earlier days. This collection of vintage photographs and accompanying text includes its original course and some of the many reroutes it has experienced. It all comes together to illuminate just what an amazing volunteer achievement the existence of the trail is.

Interweaving social, political, environmental, economic, and popular history, John Alexander Williams chronicles four and a half centuries of the Appalachian past. Along the way, he explores Appalachia's long-contested boundaries and the numerous, often contradictory images that have shaped perceptions of the region as both the essence of America and a place apart. Williams begins his story in the colonial era and describes the half-century of bloody warfare as migrants from Europe and their American-born offspring fought and eventually displaced Appalachia's Native American inhabitants. He depicts the evolution of a backwoods farm-and-forest society, its divided and unhappy fate during the Civil War, and the emergence of a new industrial order as railroads, towns, and extractive industries penetrated deeper and deeper into the mountains. Finally, he considers Appalachia's fate in the twentieth century, when it became the first American region to suffer widespread deindustrialization, and examines the partial renewal created by federal intervention and a small but significant wave of in-migration. Throughout the book, a wide range of Appalachian voices enlivens the analysis and reminds us of the importance of storytelling in the ways the people of Appalachia define themselves and their region.

Appalachia on Our Mind is not a history of Appalachia. It is rather a history of the American idea of Appalachia. The author argues that the emergence of this idea has little to do with the realities of mountain life but was the result of a need to reconcile the "otherness" of Appalachia, as decribed by local-color writers, tourists, and home missionaries, with assumptions about the nature of America and American civilization. Between 1870 and 1900, it became clear that the existence of the "strange land and peculiar people" of the southern mountains challenged dominant notions about the basic homogeneity of the American people and the progress of the United States toward achiving a uniform national civilization. Some people attempted to explain Appalachian otherness as normal and natural -- no exception to the rule of progress. Others attempted the practical integration of Appalachia into America through philanthropic work. In the twentieth century, however, still other people began questioning their assumptions about the characteristics of American civilization itself, ultimately defining Appalachia as a region in a nation of regions and the mountaineers as a people in a nation of peoples. In his skillful examination of the "invention" of the idea of Appalachia and its impact on American thought and action during the early twentieth century, Mr. Shapiro analyzes the following: the "discovery" of Appalachia as a field for fiction by the local-color writers and as a field for benevolent work by the home missionaries of the northern Protestant churches; the emergence of the "problem" of Appalachia and attempts to solve it through explanation and social action; the articulation of a regionalist definition of Appalachia and the establishment of instituions that reinforced that definition; the impact of that regionalistic definition of Appalachia on the conduct of systematic benevolence, expecially in the context of the debate over child-labor restriction and the transformation of philanthropy into community work; and the attempt to discover the bases for an indigenous mountain culture in handicrafts, folksong, and folkdance.

John O’Brien’s deeply evocative book re- veals a place and a way of life—and the lives of an estranged father and son whose differences rest, ironically, in their own powerful bonds to Appalachia. John O’Brien was born in Philadelphia, his father having left his beloved home in the West Virginia mountains after an impoverished childhood made all the more painful by family tragedy. Struggling to escape a father defeated by disappointment, displacement, and poverty, John too left home. When John decided to settle near his father’s birthplace in West Virginia, he hoped to comprehend the elder O’Brien’s attachment to the land, as well as the disabling fatalism he had carried north. What he discovered is hardly the mythic Appalachia most Americans imagine, but a world of extravagant beauty—lush with green mountains, deep forests, ice-cold trout streams, and small hill farms. The people we meet who inhabit this land are for the most part unpretentious, working class, straightforward, open, commonsensical, and easygoing. They tend to look back more than most Americans do, defining themselves by how they fit into an extended family that includes their ancestors. We are in a mountain culture that feels old and deeply rooted, that follows a traditional way of life. It is a world the author would finally love and call his own. We also come face-to-face with provincialism, intolerance, and—perhaps Appalachia’s defining legacy—the horrors of the coalfields and chemical plants. We see clearly what rapacious greed and exploitation have done for generations to much of the landscape and to the lives of the people. And we learn of the stream of reformers and missionaries, ever ready to show Appalachia the way, whose real contributions tend to be negligible or absurd. In this clear-eyed, beautifully rendered telling of his story and his father’s, John O’Brien gives us, as well, the history and true heart of Appalachia.

A young George Washington once roamed the peaks, Civil War soldiers battled along the ridges, and bloody Prohibition skirmishes echoed among the dark hemlocks of Maryland's Appalachian Highlands. Local columnist and outdoorsman Tim Rowland introduces the remarkable history of the mountains of Western Maryland, from the rocky relations of Native Americans and early settlers and the Battle of South Mountain to the faded elegance of Gilded Age resorts and the coming of the B&O Railroad. With a keen eye and dry sense of humor, Rowland regales readers with tales of mischievous ghosts, presidential retreats, and intrepid hikers while celebrating the breathtaking beauty and unique culture of Maryland's Appalachian Highlands.

In this riveting account of an area of Appalachia known as the Quiet Zone where cell phones and WiFi are banned, journalist Stephen Kurczy explores the pervasive role of technology in our lives and the innate human need for quiet. "Captures the complex beauty of a disconnected way of life." --The Nation With a new afterword to the paperback edition Deep in the Appalachian Mountains lies the last truly quiet town in America. Green Bank, West Virginia, is a place at once futuristic and old-fashioned: It's home to the Green Bank Observatory, where astronomers search the depths of the universe using the latest technology, while schoolchildren go without WiFi or iPads. With a ban on all devices emanating radio frequencies that might interfere with the observatory's telescopes, Quiet Zone residents live a life free from constant digital connectivity. But a community that on the surface seems idyllic is a place of contradictions, where the provincial meets the seemingly supernatural and quiet can serve as a cover for something darker. Stephen Kurczy embedded in Green Bank, making the residents of this small Appalachian village his neighbors. He shopped at the town's general store, attended church services, went target shooting with a seven-year-old, square-danced with the locals, sampled the local moonshine. In The Quiet Zone, he introduces us to an unforgettable cast of characters. There is a tech buster patrolling the area for illegal radio waves; "electrosensitives" who claim that WiFi is deadly; a sheriff's department with a string of unsolved murder cases dating back decades; a camp of neo-Nazis plotting their resurgence from a nearby mountain hollow. Amongst them all are the ordinary citizens seeking a simpler way of living. Kurczy asks: Is a less connected life desirable Is it even possible The Quiet Zone is a remarkable work of investigative journalism--at once a stirring ode to place, a tautly wound tale of mystery, and a clarion call to reexamine the role technology plays in our lives.

Author's experiences growing up in rural Appalachia.