Author: North Carolina Arts Council
Since 1989, the North Carolina Heritage Award has honored our state’s most eminent traditional artists and practitioners. Recipients of the Heritage Awards range from internationally acclaimed musicians to folks who quietly practice their art in family and community settings. Awardees receive a cash award and are honored in a ceremony that draws large and enthusiastic audiences. Several North Carolinians have gone on to receive the National Heritage Fellowship Awards presented by the National Endowment for the Arts.
These awards deepen our awareness of North Carolina’s diverse cultural traditions, and their importance to our state’s past, present and future.
Heritage Award recipients are nominated by citizens of the state and selected through panel process.
Walter and Ray Davenport
Although not raised in a fishing family, when brothers Ray and Walter Davenport embarked on their fishing careers they worked alongside experienced fishermen who shared with them their knowledge of the water, the nets, and the fish. “It was such a fascination to watch the older fishermen. We’d sit around and talk to them and pick up bits of information. And through trial and error and years of work, you learned what would work and what wouldn’t work. And the more you learn about it, the better you can do it,” explains Ray. The brothers mastered the art of net making and repairing, but did not stop there. The Davenports build boats designed to work with their nets.
“It gets in your blood. I know it’s in mine. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t go on the water. You get out there in the morning in that fresh air and the sun coming up, if you don’t believe there’s a Lord then, you won’t ever believe.” Ray Davenport’s words capture the connection he and his brother Walter feel when fishing the rivers and shores of the Albemarle Sound near their Tyrrell County homes, a vocation they have followed since coming of age in the mid-1950s.
Although not raised in a fishing family, when the brothers embarked on their fishing careers they worked alongside experienced fishermen who shared with them their knowledge of the water, the nets, and the fish. “It was such a fascination to watch the older fishermen. We’d sit around and talk to them and pick up bits of information. And through trial and error and years of work, you learned what would work and what wouldn’t work. And the more you learn about it, the better you can do it,” explains Ray. Together, Walter and Ray caught rockfish, perch and catfish in gill nets, hoop nets and fykes. They trawled fish and trapped crabs and eels. But it was the pound net that captured their interest and became their mainstay for over thirty years. Fishermen anchor the voluminous pound net to the shoreline with black gum stakes and secure it there with leaded, weighted lines. The net itself is a complex construction requiring yards of net cut and tied to form funnels for trapping the fish, “It’s an art to it. You just don’t sew webbing together and catch fish. You’ve got to know how to put the webbing together.”
The brothers mastered the art of net making and repairing, but did not stop there. As Ray Davenport says, “If you’re going to be a fisherman, be a fisherman!” The Davenports build boats designed to work with their nets. “Of course we build our own pound net boats,” explains Walter. “I’ve never seen a fiberglass boat that would work in a pound net good as a wooden skiff will work. The old-timers years ago designed a wooden boat—I guess they probably had a lot of trial and error, but they built a boat that was really seaworthy.” Ray, avid about boats from childhood, learned boat making from Willy Spencer of Frying Pan, the Davenports’ Tyrell County hometown.
The fisherman’s craft depends on more than knowing the right boat and the right net. It requires an integrated knowledge of the seasons, the water, and the currents. Experience maps the geography of the shoreline, the topography of the river and the sound bottoms. It reads the feel of the wind and the light of the sky. It develops intimacy with the lives and desires of the fish themselves. And when the fisher’s knowledge of the land, water, sky, and fish are poured into the construction of boat and net, then the art of harvesting the water is complete. Such a union of natural elements and human construction forms the bedrock of traditional art.
Ray and Walter Davenport would add a spiritual dimension to the elements of this artful occupation. Walter reminds us that “fishing has been going on since the days of Christ. Because part of his disciples were fishermen, you know.” And Ray reflects on why fishing still attracts him like no other occupation: “There’s a lot of better ways to make a living than fishing, but you don’t have as much freedom. I reckon it’s a sense of freedom. I love to go. You’re always looking for a big catch. Like a kid on Christmas morning: ‘What am I going to get?’”
Mike Harman
A visit to Mike Harman’s workshop in Ashe County is a lesson in the history of Southern Appalachian weaving traditions. Mike is a direct descendent of John Owen Goodwin, a silk weaver from Macclesfield, England, whose son James immigrated to the United States in 1837 and established a weaving business in Maryland. Subsequent generations of Goodwins entered the trade and eventually operated mills in Virginia, West Virginia and Cumberland Gap, Tennessee. They produced woven goods of wool, such as blankets and shawls, and also specialized in the manufacture of linsey-woolsey, a combination of cotton and wool. In 1952, the family moved to North Carolina and established Goodwin Guild Weavers in Blowing Rock. Mike’s Aunt Mary, keeper of the family stories, lives there still. Mike and his wife Dana carry on the family weaving legacy under the name Buffalo Creek Weavers.
A visit to Mike Harman’s workshop in Ashe County is a lesson in the history of Southern Appalachian weaving traditions. Dust motes dance in the air above the massive 19th century loom threaded with a coverlet whose pattern dates back to the early 1700s. In a box nearby sit dozens of brass-tipped wooden antique shuttles, oiled dark by generations of hands, threaded by color and ready for their turn in the pattern. At the loom stands Mike himself, the sixth generation within his family to weave heirloom-quality textiles.
Mike is a direct descendent of John Owen Goodwin, a silk weaver from Macclesfield, England, whose son James immigrated to the United States in 1837 and established a weaving business in Maryland. Subsequent generations of Goodwins entered the trade and eventually operated mills in Virginia, West Virginia and Cumberland Gap, Tennessee. They produced woven goods of wool, such as blankets and shawls, and also specialized in the manufacture of linsey-woolsey, a combination of cotton and wool. In 1952, the family moved to North Carolina and established Goodwin Guild Weavers in Blowing Rock. Mike’s Aunt Mary, keeper of the family stories, lives there still.
Mike credits his instruction to “Grandpa John” Goodwin, who also shared his passion for the intricate patterns, or “drafts,” of old coverlet designs. John Goodwin traveled throughout Southern Appalachia, weaving out of a wagon and trading goods for wool, food, and stories. While on these trips, Goodwin collected some five hundred weaving drafts, meticulously copying the designs that had been handed down in mountain families. Mike reproduces many of these pioneer patterns on the water-powered industrial looms that the family salvaged from old mills.
Mike and his wife Dana carry on the family weaving legacy under the name Buffalo Creek Weavers. They produce coverlets with traditional designs such as the “Whig Rose,” “Lover’s Knot,” and “Morning Star.” Mike is the loom master weaver, operating some of the same machines used by his great-great-grandfather. His work requires an artist’s eye for color and design, a weaver’s knowledge of how to set the warp and loom, and a mechanic’s ability to repair and maintain antique machinery. Mike and Dana’s children, Ashlyn and Jake, are growing up like he did, surrounded by the cotton, the oily machines, and the din of the weaver’s world. They say they just might take up the art when their turn comes.
Mike attributes the beauty of his work not only to the legacy of design, but also to the unique action of his machine looms. A coverlet woven on a modern loom, he says, “wouldn’t have any character to it.” “For me,” he adds, “the beauty is in making it the old way, with the little imperfections that come from using the old looms.” “These have history, heritage and value. And story, and more of them are true!”
Orville Hicks
Since his first nervous night telling ghost stories to an enthusiastic festival crowd, Orville Hicks has told stories at fiddler conventions, public schools, weddings, family reunions, and academic conferences. He even transformed his job site, the Aho Road Recycling Station, into an impromptu storytelling venue. Local residents, summer visitors and students from Appalachian State University who re-cycled wastes on the days Orville worked were regaled with a mix of jokes, riddles and personal anecdotes. In addition to public performances, Orville has recorded CDs, appeared on video, and collaborated with writers on articles and books.
“If you young’uns want to hear a tale, come on in the house!” And so Sarah Ann Harmon Hicks gathered her children to the porch or parlor, reports her youngest son, Orville Hicks. “We would do chores while Mama told the tales, we’d break beans, shell peas, or bunch galax. We would sit there and do work, and Mama would tell us each a Jack tale. And that’s how I learned, growing up there in the mountains.”
Orville and his six brothers and four sisters were raised in the Matney community on Beech Mountain. He traces his roots to Cutliff Harmon, a waggoner for Daniel Boone who left the trail to settle in Watauga County. Cutliff Harmon’s grandson, Council Harmon, was renowned in the region for his tale telling, his vast store of jokes and riddles, and for his witty conversational style. Council Harmon’s granddaughter, Sarah Ann, entertained her son Orville and her other children by telling riddles that sharpened their verbal skills and honed their logic. She also knew many tales and some ballads that had been passed down in the Harmon family.
Orville particularly liked to hear about the exploits of a clever boy named Jack, whose adventures climbing a giant beanstalk are known to many American children. This and many more Jack tales were told in Watauga and Avery counties well into the twentieth century, after they had died out in most parts of the Southern Appalachians. Orville’s neighbor and second cousin, Ray Hicks, was a particularly skilled storyteller who entertained young Orville with all the Jack tales he was willing to hear. Orville visited Ray for forty years, absorbing Ray’s repertory of tales and occasionally offering to Ray his own versions of the stories.
It was Ray Hicks who first encouraged Orville to perform outside of the local community. Since his first nervous night telling ghost stories to an enthusiastic festival crowd, Orville has delighted audiences at fiddlers conventions, public schools, weddings, family reunions, and academic conferences. He even transformed his job site, the Aho Road Recycling Station, into an impromptu storytelling venue. Local residents, summer visitors and students from Appalachian State University who re-cycled wastes on the days Orville worked were regaled with a mix of jokes, riddles and personal anecdotes.
In addition to public performances, Orville has recorded CDs, appeared on video, and collaborated with writers on articles and books. He and his wife, Sylvia, have also raised five sons, who are now making their own way in the world. When asked what he hopes to achieve now that his children are grown, Orville typically responds that his inspiration is the main character of so many of his stories. “I want to do things the way Jack done,” he says. “Trading, doing garden work, and then go out and make some money and find a way to live. As long as I make enough to pay my rent and bills, that’s all I’m worried about. I wasn’t planning to be no millionaire!”
Senora Lynch
The homeland of the Haliwa-Saponi tribe lies nestled at the intersection of Halifax, Warren, Franklin and Nash counties in the northeastern Piedmont. Senora Lynch, born in Philadelphia, returned to this area with her mother and six brothers and sisters at the death of her father in the late 1960s. They settled near her grandfather, James William Mills, a man well known for his skills as carpenter, chairmaker, and artist. At ease with elders and a good listener, at fourteen Senora was told to help assist a pottery class for seniors. She loved the clay, and though pottery traditions did not play a role in community life, she heard the old women recalling being taught to coil clay in their childhoods. She felt the pull of the clay the next fifteen years, and then she sat down to learn her craft. Senora Lynch’s reputation now reaches far beyond the borders of tribe, state and nation.
“An elder man once said to me,” begins artist Senora Lynch, as she scrapes the coils of a leather-hard pot to roundness with her snuff-can-lid tool, “’you notice how everything’s coming back to our people. You’re doing pottery, he’s doing stone carving, he’s doing woodcarving, she’s making baskets.’ He says, ‘It’s in our roots. They cut down the trees but they don’t remove the roots. It comes back’.”
The homeland of the Haliwa-Saponi tribe lies nestled at the center of the intersection of four North Carolina counties in the northeastern Piedmont; Halifax, Warren, Franklin and Nash. Senora Lynch, born in Phildelphia, returned to the meadows and farmland of her ancestors with her mother and six brothers and sisters at the premature death of her father in the early 1960s. They settled by her grandfather, James William Mills, a man well-known in this tight-knit Indian community for his skills as carpenter, chairmaker, and artist. If you’re born into the Mills family, they say, you get your talent from Mills’ blood. And it was not long before young Senora’s artistic abilities were noticed by her elders.
“I was always the one Mom sent to help grandpa,” recalls Senora, remembering the days spent learning to weave James Mills’ three-over-three pattern for caning chair bottoms. When Pat Richardson taught beading classes at the tribe’s beloved school, she told eleven-year-old Senora, “I don’t even have to help you, you just got it.” Reaching the respected goal of making one’s own powwow regalia—hair gear, dress, leggings and moccasins—came easily to her. Middle school doodling caught the attention of her geometry teacher, who presented her with a sketch book and encouraged her to carry on. This awakened an interest in geometry, and she began to apply its principles to her designs, always finding the center first, then expanding into quadrants, echoing the four directions found in native practice.
At ease with elders and a good listener, at fourteen Senora was told to help assist a pottery class for seniors. She loved the clay, and though pottery traditions did not play a strong role in community life, she heard the old women recalling being taught to coil clay in their childhoods. And her grandmother smoked a clay pipe. She felt the pull of the clay, felt it calling her for the next fifteen years, until, now a wife and mother, she sat down to learn her craft.
The fame of Senora Lynch’s pottery reaches far beyond the borders of tribe, state and nation. She has earned respect from fellow Indian artists for the strength and true form of her pots, and for the exquisite designs that etch their surfaces. “For me,” she explains, “I think my pottery is a combination of tradition and modern. I’m telling the story about our tribe like it would have been done long ago, but in a different way.” The multi-layered meanings she inscribes on her pieces draw visually from the landscape, and spiritually from inherited Indian tradition, a steadfast Christian faith, and the visions that come to her in dreams. She says simply, “My heart is in my hands, and my hands are on my pots.”
George Shuffler
George Shuffler makes his home in the countryside near Valdese in Burke County and considers himself a fortunate man. He made a living as a professional musician and enjoyed success in two realms of traditional music—bluegrass and southern gospel. In both, he made artistic contributions that continue to inspire musicians and listeners today. At home, George would hear his father “thump around” on the banjo. When George expressed an interest, his father traded for a guitar. One of his father’s co-workers in a local textile mill taught George three basic chords and he soon began improvising “homemade” accompaniment inspired by musicians he heard on radio and records.
George Shuffler, who makes his home in the countryside near Valdese in Burke County, considers himself a fortunate man. He made a living as a professional musician and enjoyed success in two realms of traditional music—bluegrass and southern gospel. In addition, he made artistic contributions to both which inspire musicians and listeners in the present day.
At home, George would hear his father “thump around” on the banjo. When George expressed an interest, his father traded for a guitar. One of his father’s co-workers in a local textile mill taught George three basic chords and he soon began improvising “homemade” accompaniment inspired by musicians he heard on radio and records. In 1941, at the age of sixteen, George joined a local band that performed live radio shows. After The Bailey Brothers, an established professional band, heard George when he filled in for their missing bass player, they offered him a full-time job. He packed his bags and left for Nashville, Tennessee.
George toured with various groups in the 1940s but periodically returned to Burke County when he tired of life on the road. In 1950, he began a twenty year association with the Stanley Brothers in which he helped set the standard for bluegrass guitar picking and bass playing. In order to complement Ralph and Carter Stanley’s singing on slow songs, George developed a unique cross-picking style that transformed the guitar into a lead, as well as a rhythm, instrument. His “walking” bass technique, which energized breakdowns and fast songs, has been emulated by successive generations of bluegrass musicians.
His teenage daughters inspired George to make the transition from bluegrass to southern gospel. After hearing them sing in a small church choir, George remembers telling himself “My goodness gracious, what I have been missing here!” “And so I asked them, ‘if y’all will sing with me, I’ll do all the legwork and we’ll go from there. And I’ll never put you in an embarrassing position.’” The Shuffler Family started out singing traditional songs but soon began performing George’s compositions. His best known song, “When I Receive My Robe and Crown,” stayed in the national gospel music charts for eleven months.
George is retired from music but his influence remains strong. On any weekend you might find some of the finest bluegrass musicians in the business dropping in to see him and his wife, Sue. He tells visitors that he remains loyal to the musical styles he heard growing up in rural Burke County. A lot of modern country and bluegrass music has “turned to hairspray and rhinestones,” he says. “If the music hasn’t got a good cornfield sound to it, it just don’t interest me.”
