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brought it to prominence in the 1950s and 1960s. "With characteristic vigor, he resurrected it, built an impressive membership, prepared it for foundationsupported projects and the government's War on Poverty," he says. In his speeches, Perley Ayer challenged his audiences to fulfill their potential. However, he maintained that the schools, with their emphasis on competition, had been negligent in developing human potential, and he told the crowds that heard him speak: "Education is not a luxury for the few but a necessity for all citizens of a free society." He frequently referred to the deplorable situation created by the government's refusal to develop the human potential of the Appalachian South. He did not hesitate to point out that in some counties one-third to one-half of the people were living on surplus commodities, while a third of those who had jobs made less than $3,000 a year, and thus many were forced to migrate to urban growth centers to find better paying jobs. He likened the economy of Appalachia to a suit of poverty with a few pockets of prosperity. In these compelling speeches from the 1960s, Perley Ayer calls for a people partnership in which the community, schools, and government all join together in developing the human potential of Appalachia. Although his dream of a people partnership has been only partly realized, his speeches have endured to challenge another generation. —Dexter Collett Mountain Jack Tales, as told and illustrated by Gail E. Haley. New York: Dutton Children's Books, 1992. 132 pages with a glossary and bibliography. $15.99. Haley's new book, Mountain Jack Tales, is just what is needed to spur interest in these wonderfully imaginative tales. Storytellers in Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Kentucky who have been bragging about Jack for years will enjoy reading Haley's retelling and her intricate woodcut designs. Her book will spread the word about Jack's ingenuity and mountain wisdom to people who know of him only vaguely. Gail Haley has done an exquisite piece ofwork placing Mountain Jack near a persimmon tree in the shade of an indigo mountain. Poppyseed lives in a neat cabin near the very spot where Jack has planted the three beans he got from Old Graybeard in exchange for Milky White the Cow. As we wait for the apple butter to boil down, Poppyseed tells us that the first bean is for Jack, the second bean is for the storyteller herself, and the third bean 70 is for the young listeners. In a beautiful circular woodcut, Haley shows the three beans—the three parts of the story—beginning with the roots, reaching in "the heart of the Earth herself," and tells the tale of "Jack and the Northwest Wind." On a night when he and his maw are about to freeze in their cabin in the midst of a windstorm, Jack decides he must travel to the northwest wind to persuade it to stop blowing. It's the middle of winter and he never gets there—but he does meet an old man, some bad boys, and their even worse paw, and some magical elements—a tablecloth that eternally produces food, a hen that lays golden eggs, and a cudgel that will beat anything "for as long as Jack wants it to." Even if he never gets to the northwest wind, he can still make life comfortable for his maw and himself. If you know your Grimm Brothers, and Joseph Jacobs, you'll almost know the stories. But the language and action and the Appalachian spirit of Mountain Jack—Haley's words and woodcuts—merge into something new and different and completely entertaining. The book has been skillfully produced. The cover, the binding, the pages, and the design of each page make this book a delightful storytelling experience. —Judith B. Rosenfeld Reviewers in this issue: Dexter Collett, a native of Eastern Kentucky, has completed a bibliography of doctoral dissertations about Southern Appalachian literature and folklore . . . Diana Hays is director of research and development at the Federation ofAppalachian Housing Enterprises, Inc., in Berea . . . Harry Robie teaches English and speech at Berea College . . . Judith Rosenfeld is a librarian at St. Ann's...

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