<< Back 10/2/02 After the anti-hillbilly frenzy, some music and good food By Gary Carden Two weekends ago, I turned on my computer and found myself staring at an AOL webpage complete with a photograph of a wild-eyed, shirtless, bearded and tattooed man struggling with a policeman, and captioned “Father and Son Attack Coach.” Immediately assuming that yet another little-league father has gone berserk, I clicked on the attending story to discover that the event had been a Chicago White Sox-Kansas City Royals baseball game. Since I’m not a sports fan, I can only conclude that I was intrigued by the photograph. Why had the man attacked the coach? Well, it seems that William Ligue Jr. and his 15-year-old son left their seats, jumped into the field and attacked Coach Tom Gamboa, contending that Gamboa had “made an obscene gesture” at them. Further, the news article said that Gamboa, who was attacked from behind, denied the accusation. Before the situation could turn into an on-field melee, Gamboa was rescued by the Royals players. Security officers arrested Ligue and his son and Gamboa, suffering minor cuts and bruises, was escorted from the field for further treatment. At the conclusion of the article, I found one of those little blue-lined teasers, “What do the fans think?” Still curious, I made the mistake of clicking on what turned out to be an astonishing catalogue of posted (chat-room) comments. I clicked on one at random. “Trailer Trash!” someone screeched in blood-red font. “This is what happens when we let the hill-billies move here.” Whoa! Assuming that I had found a lone demented soul, I clicked a few more. “NASCAR idiots!” “Mullet-heads!” “Imported red-necks!” “Gene-pool rejects!” On and on the comments ran, vitriolic and angry. Then, the tide turned, and opposing viewpoints appeared. “Gamboa got what he deserved!” “Well, boo-hoo, the over-paid ball-player got smacked!” There was also a large assortment of misspelled words: “biggot” and “raycist” were there with several comments on Ligue’s “bad manors.” The few posts that might pass as the voices of sanity and reason sounded inane and superficial. After 30 minutes of reading several hundred messages in which posters competed with “flaming” attacks obviously designed to demean and anger former posters, I began to feel frightened. Are these messages representative of public opinion? Who are these people? There was not one sane, logical, intelligent spokesman. Not one. I began to get a frightening image of millions of tiny midges with access to a computer terminal, all gleefully tapping out messages designed to alienate and anger those who don’t share their obsessions and prejudices. Of course, at the bottom of it all was the dawning awareness that these people despised ... me. Again and again, the posts made specific references to those “inbred, stupid people from Appalachia.” In nothing that I had read had there been any indication that Ligue (a) was from Appalachia (b) lived in a trailer or (c) attended NASCAR rallies. How had he become the poster boy for a displaced Appalachian who “loved to watch a dozen retarded drivers turn left for three hours” at a NASCAR event? Most frightening of all ... does it matter? Maybe those jolly posters are symptomatic of something larger and more ominous. Several weeks ago, Jeff Minick, who reviews books for The Smoky Mountain News, sort of blew a fuse in a review of yet another book that found us hill-billies amusing. Jeff made it plain that he was a-weary of being considered either quaint, rustic and amusing, or dangerous, dim-witted and/or prone to violence. Well, it is small wonder that Jeff is miffed. Suddenly, the book stores and the media have an over-abundance of literature which treats mountain folk unkindly. And now, here is this final irony — that the great, semi-literate masses of fandom, those benighted midges that post messages in internet chat-rooms, despise us. I believe that people like Ligue and son are unintentional scapegoats for a large segment of society. Apparently, we desperately need someone to saddle with all of our shameful prejudices. When some unwitting oaf like Ligue, complete with tattoos and a foul mouth, manages to clamber into the spotlight for his “15 minutes of fame,” we promptly load him down with the qualities that we most hate. Then the public can revile and insult him. (I’m sure if the opportunity presented itself, his tormenters would gladly crucify him.) Suddenly, we are momentarily purged of all of our sickness. Take the hill-billy away! Sterilize him and send him home. Tom Robbins, one of my favorite writers, once noted that it was a shame that the dinosaurs had to die so that we could have Internet chat-rooms. Certainly, with all the diversity of Internet services, the chat-room has the most dubious merit. For anyone who, like me, rarely signs on, it is a chaos of disparate groups: teenagers, nerds, professional “flamers,” techies, and pop culture buffs — it is also a refuge for the lonely, alienated, the unemployed and the mentally ill. To “sign on” and read the messages is to subject yourself to a disturbing array of opinions. Yet, this is who we are — this is the “heart of America.” The posters who held forth on AOL’s chat-room are an example. I’m distressed to learn that a large group of people consider my culture to be inferior to their own — an embarrassment. I am far more upset by their illiteracy, their anger and their mindless bigotry. What to do? Should I make a discreet post of my own: “Excuse me, but I am an Appalachian, and I would like to say something in my defense.” No, I won’t do that, simply because I have done it before. Before I could respond to a couple of inquiries, I found myself in the midst of a “feeding frenzy” as a dozen posters shredded my defense — like buzzards on a road-kill. No, that is not the way. What then? Sign off. Turn on some music. Listen to Nina Simone or Merle Haggard. Sit on the porch and watch the light fade on the Balsams. Read a little A. E. Houseman. Eat some gritted cornbread. Forget about Ligue and son. (Gary Carden is a writer who lives in Sylva. His recent book, Mason Jars in the Flood, was the Appalachian Writers Association Book of the Year. He can be reached at gcarden498@aoo.com)