I love the old stories handed down from generation to generation that reveal the character of folk in various parts of America. One of the things we have in common is a commitment to fair play. These stories show how devoted we generally are to doing the right thing. Here’s one about an 1848 court test of the “Tennessee Dog Law.” The law—a more or less informal understanding--was that if a dog killed a sheep, it was automatically deemed to be a criminal and anyone who had a weapon could kill it.

     Well, here’s what happened. The case was an appeal of a ruling of a justice of the peace who had awarded the owner of Sharp, a yellow mongrel, $10 in damages because the defendant’s hounds bit off Sharp’s ear in a big scuffle following a hunt. This, argued Sharp’s attorney, was a serious blow to Sharp’s owner who made his living from hunting and who depended on Sharp’s ability to hear well.

     The plaintiff’s attorney claimed that Sharp had a reputation for stealing. He had reportedly broken into spring houses and stolen food. This was before refrigeration, of course, and folk kept food in spring houses to keep it cool. Sharp’s owner and his family countered that he was a loyal and lovable dog. He was gentle and enjoyed playing with the children—that is, before he got his hearing hampered by the savage attack of the plaintiff’s hounds. That’s when the attorney for the hounds played the Tennessee Dog Law card. He said that Sharp had been seen in the vicinity of a flock where a sheep had been killed by a marauder. Therefore, the hounds were within their rights to try and kill old Sharp.

     This sort of threw the judge off track because it was the first time in his long career he had ever had a Dog Law case. Plus, the whole thing had happened in a remote place where finding witnesses was next to impossible. So the argument raged on, day after day. On the 6th day, the judge gave it to the jury. The jury retired to the town saloon to deliberate.

When they finished their deliberations, they happily awarded Sharp’s owner $2.50. But the big surprise came when the court clerk wrote up the minutes of the trial and assessed $320 in court costs to be divided equally and paid by the plaintiff and the defendant. This was real money in 1848! It bankrupted both sides and years later they were still filing claims and counterclaims. Both sides just wanted fairness and the jury seemed to have got their part right. The clerk just wanted to recover the costs to the county.

     Another thing these old stories reveal is an inspiring pragmatism. North Carolina tales like the following are an example. A farmer who earned his living selling butter and eggs had a financial catastrophe. His hens quit laying. He consulted a professor at the school of agriculture who told him to feed them more. That did not help. Then he was told to whitewash the hen house. Still the hens refused to lay. Finally he was advised to send off and get himself a Raleigh Rooster. Soon the great day came; the Raleigh Rooster arrived. The crate was opened and the bird emerged, fluffed up his feathers and flew up onto a fence post. Although it was long past daybreak, he threw back his head, puffed up his chest and announced his arrival with a piercing “cock-a-doodle-do!”

     Soon the egg production was back. The hens were fixing themselves up. No more polyester pants, costume jewelry and cheap perfume. Other birds were taking notice—geese, turkeys, woodpeckers. The farmer worried that the rooster would burn himself out from working too hard. One morning he came to the barnyard only to discover his Raleigh Rooster lying on his back with his legs sticking straight up and buzzards circling overhead. He rushed to the debonaire fowl’s side. He found the sly bird winking up at him with a twinkle in his eye. “When you’re romancing buzzard’s, you have to do it their way!” Pragmatism, that’s what these North Carolinians practice!

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