The Monster in the Holler

Probably circa mid-1930s, Macon County, TN
By Larry Reid © 2009

When Clyde Reid was barely a teenager, he normally tricked his brother Connie (yes, Connie!) into doing his chores so little Clyde could hang with his friends and have fun. One time the gang found an empty barrel and a large section of tanned animal skin. They set out to make a drum and have a counsel fire in the tradition of the red man. They did this and were soon bored. Little Clyde had an idea.

He had picked up a chunk of rosin which had been left by a fiddler after a dance. They took some heavy string, tied it to a small twig and punctured the drum head so that the string was fixed inside the barrel but could not slip through the hole. The noise made by rubbing the rosin down the taught string made the hair stand up on the back of their necks.

They hid the apparatus and agreed to meet back at their camp after sunset. That night a legend was born. They were on top of a ridge which formed one side of a long holler, as we say in Tennessee (or "hollow" if you are a yankee). They knocked the bottom out of the barrel and pointed it toward the holler, then began experimenting with various string tensions and any variation they could invent to make different sounds.

The bellowing that came from their improvised speaker was horrifying. It was very loud and could sound like a gigantic bull calling to his sweetheart. Quick, short strokes sounded much like the heavy breathing of some sort of unknown behemoth.

People began to talk about the Monster in the Holler. Some said they had seen it and it was as tall as the trees. Others seem to have found colossal footprints of some unknown enormous beast. It's amazing what you can find when you think you know exactly what you're looking for. The legend spread and hunting parties were organized.

Of course, the gang heard about this and decided to lay low for a while. There was talk that the beast must have a secret lair in a cave where it could escape the daylight. The hunting parties always came up empty. The boys learned to point the open end of the barrel different directions to throw the beast's voice and make it seem to move around.

If this story has an ending, Dad never told me. I assume that things became a bit too hot and they destroyed the evidence so that the legend would live on. No one was seriously hurt and the boys had a fine time creating their very own mythical beast.

I suppose that is the happy ending.