The Great Marlinton Cow Crusade

 

Climate Warnings, a War on Cows, and a Fallen Surgeon: 4 Astonishing Stories Hidden in a 1960s Appalachian Journal

Old archives and forgotten journals are more than just dusty records of the past; they are time capsules, holding stories that can feel surprisingly relevant and powerfully human. The personal writings of Norman Price from the 1960s offer just such a window into the history of Appalachia. His handwritten pages are filled not with dry dates, but with vivid accounts of the people and events that shaped a community.

This article shares a few of the most impactful and unexpected discoveries found within these pages—stories of startling predictions, local feuds, personal tragedies, and hidden histories that resonate as clearly today as when they were first lived.

An Eerily Prescient Climate Warning from 1960

In a journal entry dated January 5, 1960, Norman Price noted a report he read in The Tribune. He recounts how reporter Roy Gibson quoted the President of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), Dr. Chauncey D. Leake, who issued a chillingly specific warning about the potential for a "disastrous flood" that would be caused by the "melting of the Polar ice cap."

The journal entry goes on to identify the cause with remarkable clarity: a "change in climate" resulting from the "accumulations of Carbon Dioxide gas in the atmosphere." Even more surprising was the solution proposed over six decades ago and noted by Price: "The 'remedy', planting more trees to absorb Carbon-dioxide." To find such an accurate and timely warning tucked away in a personal journal from 1960 is a startling reminder that the concerns of our present were being voiced long in the past.

The Great Marlinton Cow Crusade

Not all history is written on a global scale. Price’s journal captures a delightful and intensely local conflict that unfolded in the village of Marlinton around the year 1912. The story centers on Mrs. Martha Wilson, who led a passionate "Crusade" with a singular, transformative goal: to "banish Cows and other live stock from the Streets and Commons of Marlinton."

Price adds a personal note to the tale, admitting that as a "cow keeper," he was firmly on the losing side of this "municipal issue." He captures the outcome of this clash between rural tradition and modernizing sensibilities with a memorable quote from his journal:

"...the more refined who objected underhandingly to the useful Cow leaving her 'Calling Card' (dung) on Streets and side-walks, prevailed and the milk-Cow banished the City!"

This anecdote is a charming and specific illustration of a universal struggle—the tension between the old ways of life and the relentless push for civic progress.

The Tragic Fall of a Prominent Surgeon

The journal also contains stories of profound personal tragedy. Price recounts the life of Dr. Kenneth J. Hawrick, who for about twenty years served as the chief physician and surgeon at the Pocahontas Memorial Hospital—an institution he had helped establish as a "public trust." He was a pillar of the community who had acquired a "lauded estate, including the Shearer ranch of nearly one thousand acres."

His standing, however, came to a sudden end. In 1933, the community was shaken to learn that his surgical license had been suspended by the State Board of Health. The reason, stated directly in the journal, was "Confessed drug-addiction - Narcotics."

The consequences were swift and total. Public protest was of "no avail," his "fine Manors and lands" were liquidated, and after a divorce, he and his son moved away. This entry is a powerful reminder that archives preserve not just public triumphs and community milestones, but also the deeply human and often painful struggles of individuals.

The Pioneer Who Fled a Fatal Duel

Delving deeper into the region's past, Price tells the story of John McNeel (1744-1826), one of the area's early pioneers. The journal reveals the surprising and violent reason McNeel first came to the area, fleeing from Frederick County "to the wilderness." His flight was prompted by a duel in which his opponent was "supposed to be fatally wounded." Believing he had killed a man, McNeel escaped into the frontier.

Price reflects on this piece of family history, noting that he could have written more but chose not to, stating, "It is no credit me to write that early Progenitors... ran around wounded duelists." This brief but revealing anecdote peels back the romanticized veneer of pioneer life, exposing the complex and brutal realities behind settlement stories. It's a stark reminder that history is an act of selection, where the storyteller, consciously or not, shapes legacy by choosing which truths to illuminate and which to leave in the past.

Conclusion: History Is Closer Than You Think

From stark climate warnings to neighborhood battles over livestock, these stories show that personal journals are treasure troves. They prove that history is not a collection of distant, abstract facts, but a rich tapestry of human experiences that are surprisingly modern, deeply emotional, and powerfully resonant. The past is not just in museums; it’s recorded in handwritten pages, waiting to be rediscovered.

What unexpected stories about our world—and ourselves—might be waiting in an old box in your own family's attic?