Tribute to Our Ancestors on Memorial Day

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As always, preparing for a Road Trip (even a short one) entails another once-over check of oil, brake fluid, and every other liquid known to be needed by a motorcycle. For me, this also means checking bolts -- I learned this the hard way a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't checked the bolts in a few weeks, and as I was riding out of town, the headlight suddenly made an explosion-like sound and fell onto the front fender, dangling by one wire.

With bolts tight, fluids filled, air pressure checked and chain well lubricated, we were off for the Memorial Weekend. Instead of Rolling Thunder this year, we decided to stick more to the backroads.

Due to recent (and ongoing rain) our shortcut backroad of choice was thoroughly flooded, leaving us to choose a drier alternative.

Early morning found us near a roadsign noting the Grave of Mike Fink. Who was this guy? Although he was apparently a noted keelboater, there is controversy whether or not this man actually existed! It is said he is buried everywhere from rural Calhoun County to western Wyoming, with lots of tall tales in between. Better leave that one alone . . .

We stop for a short break before heading to Booger Hole in Clay County. Otherwise known as Rush Fork of Big Otter, this is where John's kin (the Sampson family) made a name for themselves back in the early 1900s. Actually, the place was described in a book by Mary Curry . . .

"Violence reigned for nearly 20 years in this isolated hollow. Murders and disappearances were commonplace. Drinking, killing and stealing were a way of life. . . "

Now why does that sound familiar? Sounds to me like it could be anybody's family -- not just ours! If you like history, ghost stories and the like, just order the book -- Send $6 to Cindy Curry, RR 2 Box 82, Duck, WV 25063. I'm serious!

Although we rode from one end of Booger Hole to the other, we didn't see much in the way to remind us of the events which took place back in the early 1900s. According to Curry's book, a couple members of the Sampson family were finally charged with murder back in those days, and the citizens of the area decided to "clean up Booger Hole." The Clay County Mob was formed, and it sounds to me, they were as bad if not worse than our kin.

We the citizens of Clay County, seeing that we cannot get justice by law, have organized the Clay County Mob. We have pledged our lives to driving you people from our country, or kill you. If we cannot catch and hang you, we will sneak upon you and kill you as you killed Henry Hargess, Lacy Ann Boggs, the old peddler, and Preston Tanner. If, before you leave there is any stealing, killing or burning, we will get the bloodhounds and detectives and run you to the ends of the earth." CLAY COUNTY MOB PS - Don't stop this side of the Ohio River!

The story went on to say that the masked men of the Clay County Mob rode through Booger Hole shooting and shouting. They threw dynamite into the abandoned homes to insure the "Booger Holers" would have no place to return to.

A Handbill like this was posted on barns and fence posts in the early 1900s.

Well, needless to say, the Mob at that time must not have been so very successful -- after all, there are still a great many of we Sampson descendants still 'this side of the Ohio River!'

After leaving Clay County, we rode onto Montgomery to visit with our friend Gary who has been building custom motorcycles for over 20 years. When I say custom, I mean just that. He builds the frames, fenders and tanks by hand -- welding and shaping the metal into perfection. Maybe one day, Gary will let us do an article about him.

From there, it was onto Gauley Bridge High School, where John graduated. Not too much to see, but a stop-over at Kanawha Falls was especially nice. The air was starting to cool down, so rode onto Summersville. By the time we arrived, it was full dark and I was shaking I was so cold. Although we always camp, I wanted a warm room and a hot shower.

The words "no room at the inn" were heard everywhere. Literally no rooms available within 15 miles of Summersville due to the Wood Choppers Festival and Memorial Weekend. No choice but to ride to the Veteran's Park and unroll the sleeping bag on the pavement by the dugout.

I haven't been so cold since we woke covered in frost in Elkins last year. At least there was no frost that morning. We met some nice folks from Canada, and the US Marksman's team who happened to be staying in the (heated) cabins at the Park. With skies looking grey and cold, we started toward home.

At the top of Powell Mountain on Rt. 19, the Nicholas County Search and Rescue Squad had set up a free coffee & donuts stand. They were some great folks to talk with. While there, we saw a few other riders pull in -- they were enroute to the Triple S Open House in Morgantown.

As luck would have it, the warmest (and sunniest) part of our trip were the last 30 miles. Made us wish we were just start out again.

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