More Details Come to Light
I've Unearthed More of the Fannin Story
When you send something out into the world, you never know how it’s going to boomerang. Sometimes a story I write comes flying back at me. Last night that happened.
The boomerang was moving fast, but I caught it.
On December 31, 2022 a man named Bill Prince contacted me via this Substack. He wanted to talk about The Woods of Fannin County, a book I wrote that published August 2022.
Of course I wanted to talk.
If you haven’t read the book, eight children (ages infant through ten years old) were taken by mule and wagon to a shanty on an Appalachian hillside in 1945 and essentially abandoned. Years passed before they came to understand that they were put there to die. Four years later, in 1949, they were rescued by welfare officials and transferred to an orphanage near Baxley, Georgia.
The book is fiction, but it’s based on a true story. I heard the story from one of the children, Jimmy Woods, now deceased. Baxley is my hometown.
Now comes a man who says he knows something about the Woods story. Here’s what Bill Prince wrote in his message to me.
Janisse,
I just finished the book. It's wonderful!
I was born in 1945 about a half mile from where the Woods kids lived—two hills and one hollow away. I'd like to think that Bobby got some of his apples from the trees on our farm, which was bordered by Hemptown Creek. I didn't know anything about the Woods situation until a friend and I went squirrel hunting in the woods where the cabin is sometime in the 1960s. I was 15 or 16. My friend filled me in on some of the details.
Your place names are really accurate. The only thing that got my attention was your reference to Outcane Creek. There is a Cutcane Creek near Mineral Bluff, but to my knowledge, not an Outcane Creek.
As a child, I knew Preacher Culpepper fairly well. He was a kind, gentle, soft-spoken man. His son used to carry groceries for my mother when we shopped in Blue Ridge.
I'd love to talk to you about Fannin County if you need to hear another perspective.
Best,
Bill Prince
My reply was:
When might I call you?
I was in the middle of 1:1 conferences with writers taking my courses, and ten days passed before I was able to talk.
Meanwhile, Prince sent a map that his son, a geologist, created for him. It is of a possible location of the Woods shack, two hills away from Prince’s childhood home. The map was created using LIDAR technology
The dotted line is not a trail, simply an indication of the proximity of the two homesteads.
Bill Prince seemed legit. I learned that he left Fannin County for Young Harris College, then transferred to the University of Georgia. He went on to obtain a PhD and taught Spanish for almost 40 years at Furman University. Now retired, he lives in Upstate South Carolina.
I had a million questions for him. I want to relay to you a bit of what I learned. I recorded our conversation, and the entire recording will be uploaded soon, in case you want to listen.
What I’ve Learned
Hemptown Creek does not flow to the Atlantic Ocean, as the children in the book believe. Like other streams on the western side of the Appalachians, it winds up in the Gulf of Mexico. I would not have guessed that in a million years. See what you think, and I have a question for you about this. I’ll ask you in a minute.
Dr. Prince’s son, Philip Prince, a geologist, produced this map for us.
Fannin County was behind the times in the 1940s by at least 25 years compared to the rest of the country. People still used mules and wagons for transportation. Outhouses—even for public schools—were the rule rather than the exception.
More shocking, Dr. Prince told me there were tales of a buried infant on the property. His sister confirmed these rumors. Apparently law enforcement officers had swarmed the cabin digging for the bones of a baby.
Location of the Cabin
After our conversation, Dr. Prince began to doubt that the cabin he’d seen as a teenager was where the Woods children had lived. The fictional details I used in the book confused him. He didn’t know what was fact and what was fiction, and he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t remember a store. Fiveash wasn’t a mountain surname. The hollers were littered with abandoned cabins.
Dr. Prince’s son created a map showing the wider geography.
Here it is.
New Highway 76 cut through the mountains many years later.
Just as I know that I have avid readers, I have avid explorers on my team, and this is a word of warning to you. Do not go looking for this cabin just because I dropped a map here. The cabin is on private property, and trespassing is illegal. If you go to Fannin County, stay on public property, which includes the road.
Another Zoom Last Night
Last night I met with Richard Woods, Kim Woods Miller (Richard’s daughter), and Dr. Bill Prince. We hashed and hashed. Most things the two men agreed on, a few things didn’t connect. But they talked long enough that they confirmed the map is likely correct. I also recorded this conversation, and if the sound is good, I may upload it as well.
Questions I Have for You, Dear Reader
Because the book is print-on-demand, I can make edits and upload again. Should I change the statement that Hemptown Creek flows to the Atlantic? Or should I let the children continue to believe that it does? Won't every reader walk away with that incorrect assumption?
During tonight’s zoom, I collected much more information about the story. I am itching to add to the book. For example, the grandfather bequeathed five acres of land to the children, but they heard that the new road gobbled that up. I think it’s so poignant that part of this story is buried underneath a highway. Adding sentences and paragraphs, however, would not be fair to early readers. What do you think? Should I add or should I let it stand as is?
You are clear from the beginning that this is a work of fiction, and a powerful one it is. I wouldn't risk diluting that power with footnotes or nitpicky changes. I believe you have something like a moral obligation to tell the story as the children experienced it, even down to knowing which way a creek runs. However, you could add an appendix about the post-publication life of this story that you tell here. Or post it on the website. Because stories never really do end, do they?
If the children believed it, it is worth including even if it is not true.....you could add a footnote. Including additional details might be worth doing in an appendix, or in a postscript...it all depends on whether your intent is a true historical account, or a fictionalized account. I haven't read it, but going back and adding/changing details in the body of work may interrupt the rhythm of your writing, and sometimes details can be wearying. But congratulations on pursuing the story.