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Ruralite Cafe: Published 6/29/00By Rose HooperItems auctioned from John Parris estate |
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John Parris |
The auction of John Parris's estate last Friday brought out a menagerie of bidders - antique collectors and flea market dealers seeking items for resale, friends who wanted a specific item or those who knew him, or of him, and just wanted a memento.
Previewing the items - his military war correspondent's uniform, his typewriters that progressed from manual to electric, his vast collection of assorted pipes, the oil lamps he used at the farm, his Cherokee double-weave baskets and his rustic wooden hand-carved porch furniture - the senses and smells reminded me of a passage John wrote in "These Storied Mountains" and of a rare summer afternoon we shared in 1992. John wrote, "Most of the smells of my youth have been tramped down, obliterated or extinguished. For many [of us] the smells of an old-fashioned non-deodorized barn are part of our heritage - the acid fragrance of manure mingling with the sweetness of hay, the clean, sharp odor of leather, a horse's pared hoof, oats and bran." |
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That late summer afternoon John and I were returning from a photo shoot when he had me stop at an old rustic barn in Cherokee. Squishing through the wet manure-laden sod in his good shoes, John breathed in the pungent smells of a recent rain on the walnut logs and commenced to telling me the history of where those logs originated. I think if his agility had been any better, he would have climbed into the hayloft like a young lad at play.
Watching him I thought, "Here is a man who played Cupid for King Peter of Yugoslavia, knew Winston Churchill and counted the royalty of Europe among his friends. He could have remained a diplomatic correspondent with the Associated Press or even had a career as a distinguished diplomat himself. Instead, he chose to return to his mountains, his people and live the sylvan life of Sylva." As I looked at John's rattlesnake canes and bullwhip, I hoped the items would go to someone who truly valued their heritage. Pulling out one of the drawers in an aged but sturdy wooden shelf with brass handles, my fingers touched the used pieces of pastel charcoal his wife, Dorothy, may have used in her many wildflower illustrations. The next drawer I pulled out was full of old pens John may have used in his various writings. A man next to me said, "Dump out all this junk, clean it up a bit and I could resell it for a pretty penny." At that moment something sharp pricked my finger as sharply as his callous words. I turned over the bent rusted pin and discovered it was a nametag I had made many years ago for John when he chaired Western North Carolina Tomorrow's Pride in the Region Committee. I had to rush outside to the parking lot and let the heat radiating from the hot asphalt dry my tears. When the bidding started off so high, many Sylva residents like Brenda Barnes, who is distant kin to John, left early. Joyce Cloer had her eye on an old dusty framed photograph of John as a young man, profiled with his hunting rifle in an autumn field. You had to look closely to tell it was John, but auctioneer Thad Woods recognized him so the picture went for more than Joyce planned to pay. I was happy to see a gentleman whose grandfather rode the wagon train with John take home the wooden staff John carried on the annual event. The staff bore the grandfather's hand-carved initials. As the night turned to morning, local photographer Teddy Greene couldn't believe he was high bidder on John's latest Poloroid camera. Connie Sutton became proud owner of John's "can-you-imagine-how-many-miles-it's-seen?" antique traveling trunk. C.B. Hart grinned all the way out the door with two of John's perfect condition wagon wheels. John's next door neighbor Pat Liming was thrilled as high bidder on his weatherworn cow bell, whose familiar ring she knew well. I paid more than I planned to, but I came home with two of the three items I really wanted - a first edition of "Roaming the Mountains" and John's black sable hat he brought back from Russia. I'm sure you've seen him wear it on special cold weather occasions. John loved and respected his mountain land but realized he didn't own it. We're only stewards and caretakers while we are here, he strongly believed. By the same token, I envision each of us who went home Friday night with some of John's belongings as caretakers, not owners. Someday I envision that we'll have a John Parris Library/Museum and each of us who has one of his treasures can bring them together in one central location for many, many generations to share. If you missed Friday's auction, the remainder of John Parris' estate will be auctioned at 6:30 tonight (Thursday) at Thad Woods Auction House at Balsam. |
Back to Archive: 06/29/00. |