By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Back in 1984, at the monument's unveiling, there was an awkward moment that is now legendary. A local teacher pointed out to Ermon Godwin, cofounder of the annual hollerin' contest, that the t and the i in "Capital" had been transposed. Mr. Godwin, to his credit, maintained his savoir faire, calmly telling the woman, "That's the way we pronounce it up here."
From this, you can see that people in these parts are very keen on phonologyor linguistic morphology; that may be closer to the point. They see a difference between hollering and hollerin' that, I must admit, is splitting the hair a mite thin. JUNIOR! IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN OUT OF THAT TREE, I'M GOING TO TAN YOUR HIDE! Now that, I would call yelling, but I can see how folks could consider it to be hollering, as opposed to hollerin'. I can now.
So, let's let hollering lie, and focus our attention on hollerin'. Which is a hard thing not to do at the 32nd Annual National Hollerin' Contest, where contestants are letting loose with sounds that will carry a good four miles, maybe farther, bouncing off stands of pine windbreaks along their way.
Hollerin' is indigenous to Sampson County, which encompasses Spivey's Corner, in the coastal plains of North Carolina. Aficionados of this "almost lost" art insist that it must not be confused with hog calling, nor with yodeling, which is done by mountain folk.
The easiest way to explain hollerin' to the uninitiated is that it is akin to Tarzan's call of the jungle, but far more complex. Hollerers modulate sound in their throats like Tarzan did, but also by changing the shape of the mouth cavity.
"For those who can't tell genuine hollerin' from screaming and yelling," Ermon Godwin and Oscar Bizzell helpfully tell us in their history of the contest, Hollerin' Revived at Spivey's Corner, "there are four basic hollers that were practiced daily back before telephones came into being: the distress, the functional, the expressive, and the communicative."
The easily recognizable distress holler was a cry for help, "usually done in a falsetto tone and urgent sounding voice."
The functional holler, "often mislabeled as hog calling"they really don't like that termis used to call in farm animals, but it also "let your neighbor know all is well, supper's on the table, or you need a fresh bucket of drinking water in the field."
The expressive holler is used in singing, "particularly if you don't know all the words of a song." It is considered "loud social conversation and is generally practiced just for the sheer ecstasy of hearing yourself."
All hollers are for the purpose of communication, but the communicative holler proper "is used simply to touch base with another soul. A man working alone in a field might holler just to hear a reassuring answer from his neighbor in the next field a mile or two away."
Naturally, as we enter the 21st century, hollerin' as a practical form of communication is long dead. That is the raison d'être of the hollerin' contest: to resuscitate and keep alive this traditional folk art. So now, hollerin', for the most part, takes place on a flatbed-trailer stage on the baseball field at Midway High School, on the practice field, or, as we shall see, in automobiles.
Out of the field of a dozen contestants in this year's contest, there were actually two Yankees: John Harry, originally from Michigan, but now living in Shannon, North Carolina; and Steven "Corn" Alcorn, from Montville, New Jersey.
The Immortals of Hollerin' include past champions like Leonard Emmanuel, Floyd Lee, H.H. Oliver, and Henry Parsons. They have all gone home to Hollerin' Heaven now, but their talents (and those of six other former champs) are preserved for posterity on the CD Hollerin', recorded at Spivey's Corner in 1975 and 1976. They are also honored by contemporary contestants, who do their own renditions of the old-timers' hollers.
It was listening to, and falling in love with, this CD that brought Corn Alcorn to the stage to throw his voice into the mix. "We didn't have any cows or pigs to call," he told the predominantly Southern crowd, "but my buddies and I did have a holler up in New Jersey. If we were out playing and got separated, we'd holler 'eer-REET! eer-REET!' until we got back together."
Corn finished by hollerin' the tune to "You Are My Sunshine," in honor of former Louisiana governor Jimmy Davis's 100th birthday this year, followed by one chorus of "How Great Thou Art." As he left the stage to hearty applause, the MC told him, "That first one you did, Steve, we normally reach for a can of WD-40 when we hear a sound like that."