Outlaw Cows

 

Outlaw Cows, Hidden Wine, and an Unbreakable Will: 4 Astonishing Stories from a Forgotten Appalachian Diary

Introduction: Unlocking the Secrets of a Bygone Era

What secrets lie dormant in the old chests and forgotten boxes of our family homes? Tucked away in handwritten letters, journals, and diaries are the unvarnished stories of those who came before us—stories that are often far more complex and surprising than the official histories we read. These documents are not just records of dates and events; they are windows into the daily struggles, private thoughts, and extraordinary resilience of everyday people.

We recently had the privilege of exploring such a window: a handwritten archive from a man named Norman Price. His diary, penned in the mid-20th century, is a remarkable chronicle of life in a small community. It captures not just the weather and local happenings, but the intimate details of a life lived, from hiding a secret stash of wine from State Police on a rocky hillside to celebrating the raw strength of unforgettable characters.

What follows are not grand tales of famous figures, but small, personal stories that make the past feel startlingly present. From clandestine activities to enduring unspeakable tragedy, these accounts reveal a world of humor, heartbreak, and incredible personal will, proving that the most powerful histories are often the ones that were never meant to be published.

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1. A Bootlegger's Lament: The Perils of Hiding Wine During Prohibition

The era of Prohibition often conjures images of speakeasies and organized crime, but for many ordinary people, it was a more personal matter of navigating new laws. In his diary, Norman Price details his varied activities in 1925. On one hand, he was engaged in "trafficking by proxy," a year-long project helping a local family sell their "furniture and effects." But when the State Police began conducting raids on private houses in search of "alcoholic beverages," Price had a more personal secret to protect: his own supply.

To protect his stash, he describes caching "several gallons of wine" in jugs and hiding them "among the rocks on the hill-side." This clandestine operation, however, had an unexpected and humorous postscript. Years later, when he went to retrieve his treasure, one jug was nowhere to be found. In his own words, he could only speculate on its fate:

...it had exploded, or else I had not marked the site or funicial pressure sufficiently well.

This small, personal anecdote—of wine hidden, lost, and perhaps spontaneously exploded on a hillside—makes the historical reality of Prohibition feel immediate and vividly human.

2. The Remarkable Resilience of "Aunt Jemima" Buzzard

Every community has its legends, and in Norman Price's world, one of the most unforgettable was Jemima Buzzard, a woman he considered a personal friend for fifty years. Her story is a powerful testament to the strength of human character, beginning with the foundational choice of her marriage. Her husband, Joseph Buzzard, was considered "a hopeless cripple" in his youth after his left leg was so severely shattered by a falling tree that physicians debated amputation.

Yet, Jemima saw beyond the physical. In an act the diarist notes "of itself speaks volumes of her beloved ability and strength of character," she persuaded Joseph to marry her. This early choice to build a life based on character over circumstance foreshadowed the immense fortitude she would later require. She proved to be a "strong and capable" woman throughout her long life. Even in her later years, she could be found working barefoot in her garden and was tough enough to treat the serious injuries her husband received—several fractured ribs and bruises—while "corraleing the unruly live stock" at their daughter's home after being run over by an "outlaw wild cow." Her wit was as sharp as her will, often summing up life's troubles with a simple, homespun adage:

"Pills, Bills, and Doctors' Bills!!"

Price concludes his admiring portrait by describing her as a "thoroughly strong-minded independent & intelligent woman," noting that throughout her long life, her "will was superior."

3. A Family Enduring Unspeakable Tragedy

Jemima Buzzard's incredible strength is cast in an even sharper light when the diary reveals the immense tragedies her family endured. Her story of resilience is layered with profound heartbreak, as she outlived both of her sons, who met shockingly tragic ends.

The eldest son, William Joseph, was a "Master Sryeant [Sergeant] in the Regular Army" who served with the U.S. Army's First Division in France during World War I. He survived the horrors of the battlefield and the conclusion of the war, only to face a cruel twist of fate. Following the Armistice, while preparing to return home, he was "killed in a brawl by a French Soldier." The irony of surviving a world war only to die in a random altercation is staggering.

The family's suffering did not end there. The younger son, Harry Buzzard, died in 1940 at "aged forty years" from a "self-infected rifle shot." The diarist notes that the tragic act was "ascribed to a fit of temper." A bold and active man "employed at the local buigle and farming as well," he left behind a widow and children. These losses add a deep and poignant context to Jemima's story, revealing that her remarkable strength was not just a personality trait but a necessary shield against a life of unimaginable sorrow.

4. The Diarist's Own Candid Confessions

What makes Norman Price's diary so compelling is that he doesn't merely record the lives of others; he turns the same honest eye upon himself. The pages are filled with candid confessions that transform him from a simple chronicler into a complex, relatable human being wrestling with his own flaws and convictions.

He shares his personal struggles with a surprising frankness, noting an "abnormal craving for carminities - Cloves, pepper, cinnamon," and admitting to a lifelong battle with an "abuse of appetite for food and drink." These intimate details reveal a man conscious of his own vices and humanity.

Price is equally direct about his political motivations. When the governor was scheduled to appear at a local bridge opening, Price decided to go. He didn't attend out of civic pride or admiration for the politician, but for a much more pragmatic reason. In his journal, he recorded his reasoning, likely meaning he went to gather information or show strategic support rather than genuine enthusiasm:

"I attend, to 'pick up' because of 'Loyalty - Not Popularity'"

It is these moments of unvarnished honesty—about appetite, compulsion, and political calculation—that breathe life into the diarist. He is not just an observer of history, but a participant with his own story to tell.

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Conclusion: History Is Written in the Margins

A lost jug of wine, a resilient woman who defied expectations, two sons lost to tragedy, and a man's private confessions—these are not the headlines of history books. They are, however, the substance of real life. Norman Price's diary is a powerful reminder that history is not just a collection of great events, but a mosaic of millions of small, personal stories filled with humor, heartbreak, and an enduring will to carry on.

These fragments from a forgotten archive offer an authentic glimpse into a past that feels both distant and deeply familiar. They prompt us to wonder: What extraordinary stories of everyday life are waiting to be rediscovered in our own communities and family histories?