The Crack'd Jug and the Drawstring Bag
The early November, 1914 record at the Mercer County Sheriff's Office was simple and brief:
"An unidentified hiker in Camp Creek State Forest reported a small pool of newly-dried blood upon some sharp rocks at the base of a short-but-steep slope. Nearby lay a cracked half-gallon jug and an empty calico drawstring bag. No reports of missing persons nor hospital treatment. Investigation pending."
Very few people know the true story. It began with the late October, 1909 marriage in Bluefield, West Virginia of Matilda Mulberry, a high-school art teacher, and F. Tolliver Taylor, a young quality-control inspector for one of the prosperous coal mines. They made an attractive couple: neighborly, industrious, and bright young Presbyterians. They enjoyed square-dancing, and they always came up with creative costumes for the annual Halloween Dance, a Mercer County fund-raiser.
Beginning in 1910, Tolly and Tillie Taylor began their own tradition of leaving the Halloween Dance a little early, then driving their horse-and-buggy up to Camp Creek, still in their costumes. Taking along their new wind-up victrola, on each Halloween night they'd find a high knoll and dance for hours in the mountain moonlight, alternating square dance rhythms with with romantic Strauss waltzes, spiced with an occasional march by John Phillip Sousa. Alone, unobserved, and in full costume, their inhibitions quickly left them.
And so, on October 31, 1914, celebrating
the fifth year of a happy marriage, Tolly and Tillie again left the dance
quietly for their romantic moonlight caper. But this time Tolly had two
surprises in store, and Tillie had one of her own. Ragtime music was sweeping
America by 1914, and Tolly Taylor found it irresistible. He had also been
introduced to a high-quality beverage by a visiting Taylor cousin from
Corbin, Kentucky. So Tolly had brought along some ragtime records and
a brown jug of what he called "mountain dew."
Tillie's contribution to the celebration was her hand-made blue calico drawstring bag, filled with Mother Mulberry's small crab-apple blossom honey cakes. The young couple's eagerness to reach the high knoll was unrestrained.
Sometime well after midnight, after a few Virginia reels and Viennese waltzes, and after Tolly had persuaded Tillie to sample the mountain dew, they paused only long enough to eat a few honey cakes for renewed energy. Then Tolly rewound the victrola and put on the ragtime music, an unforgettable moment!
Now it happens that the young Taylors' costumes that year won first prize at the Halloween Dance. They had surprised everyone by appearing in very realistic head-to-foot, black-and-furry bear suits. Although rather too warm indoors, the bear suits were comfortable as Tolly and Tillie danced in the chill night air of the high knoll.
As the vocalist, probably the young Sophie Tucker, sang "Oh m' honey, oh m' honey" to the rhythm of Alexander's Ragtime Band, the dancing couple sensed that they were no longer alone. Appearing in a swaying motion from nearby bushes were black bears! They were standing upright and moving in time to the music. Tillie gasped, and Tolly quickly took a generous swallow of mountain dew. But as Americans everywhere in 1914, they kept right on dancing to Alexander's Ragtime Band.
The dancing bears seemed to mean no harm, and their graceful moves suggested to Tillie that they might enjoy one of the square-dance rhythms. Before long, the four dancers had joined in a kind of square, and the Taylors noticed that four more bears were watching intently nearby.
But then, just after an "Allemande left," the unexpected happened. The night breezes had caused a dark cloud to shut out the moonlight. It was pitch dark! The music played on. But Tillie Taylor suddenly realized that she was apart from the others, with only her partner, a heavy-breathing bear! She nearly panicked and screamed, but coming from hardy Mulberry stock, she collected her wits. Enough light came through for her to spot the drawstring bag nearby.
Tillie quickly opened the bag and offered a crab-apple honey cake to her eager partner, -- readily accepted and gobbled down. Then she handed the whole bag-full to the grateful bear, who stopped dancing and sat down to enjoy Mother Mulberry's tasty cakes. Unable to see Tolly anywhere, Tillie quietly walked back to where the horse-and-buggy were, climbed into the buggy, -- and fainted!
Tolly Taylor did not have such an easy time
of it. The sudden darkness had left him swaying in the company of a large
male bear. The ragtime tune finally stopped, and there was an awkward
silence, neither partner knowing quite what to say. The bear seemed eager
to continue dancing. Tolly's eyes had adjusted more quickly to the darkness,
being accustomed to roaming the familiar coal mines. He spotted the brown
jug, took a quick swallow, and sighed with obvious pleasure. The bear
caught the idea and readily accepted the jug handed to him. The bear took
two or three long drinks, giving Tolly time to rewind the victrola.
Tolly had meant to put on a lively Sousa march, start the bears marching, and then quickly slip away. But in the semi-darkness, the record he'd picked up turned out to be Victor Herbert's melodic favorite, Kiss Me Again. The large male bear, by now enjoying the glow of good corn whiskey, opted for some close dancing with Tolly in the bear costume. It was a time for hard decisions!
Tolly Taylor had retrieved the brown jug from the bear just before their romantic waltz began. He also noted a steep drop-off at one edge of the knoll, working his way toward the edge as they danced. The large bear was in seventh heaven, dancing with his eyes closed.
At just the right moment, the dark cloud passed and the full moonlight shone upon Tolly and the bear. When the bear turned his head to gaze romantically at the moon, Tolly did not falter. Swinging the heavy jug with all of his young strength, Tolly bashed the back of the bear's head, a forceful blow! Down the steep slope tumbled the bear, striking some sharp rocks at the bottom, where he lay, motionless.
Tolly wasted no time. He threw the cracked jug after the fallen bear, picked up the precious victrola, and ran straight to the horse-and-buggy. When they were half way out of the Camp Creek area, Tillie opened her eyes, and then strangely smiled; "I've had this vision!" was all she said.
But what about the poor, romantic bear? As it happened, his mate -- carrying the calico bag -- arrived to find him stunned and bleeding, but not seriously injured. A few of Mother Mulberry's honey cakes seemed to revive the large male bear. He again began to feel romantic, and the two bears wandered off, leaving behind only the cracked jug and the drawstring bag.
At home the next morning, when F. Tolliver Taylor awoke, he found that his wife, Matilda, had been up for an hour or so, working with her paintbrush and easel. "What about your vision?," Tolly asked sleepily. Tillie smiled warmly at her husband. "Thank you for an unforgettable night!", she replied. "It was so romantically beautiful I had to keep it forever in memory."
Tillie turned the easel so Tolly could see her work of art. "But Tolly,"
she cautioned, -- "please don't tell anyone their names!"
This story and others by Daniel K. Miller '44 appear in his recent book, "Wings For Flight and Freedom," a collection that includes verses, essays, philosophy and fantasy. Miller retired in 1981 after a long career with the DuPont company. Creative writing and collecting old popular piano sheet music are his major interests. He and his wife, Ellie, enjoy their three grown children and six grandchildren. A companion volume is his book "Where Angel-Glow and Torchlight Blend."