This Side of the Mountain

This Side of the Mountain Sidney Saylor Farr The Appalachian region and Berea College have been forced into swiftly changing paradigms these last two years, forever altering some landscapes ofthe heart and mind. We lost two good men when Loyal Jones retired as director of the Appalachian Center in 1993 and John Stephenson retired as Berea College president in 1994. Still another transition waited in the wings of 1994; John Stephenson died in December. He had planned to stay in Berea and pursue advancement for Appalachia and spend more time with his own writing. In March ofthis year came news ofthe death ofAlfred H. Perrin, one of the best friends and most loyal supporters both the college and Appalachia have ever had. These men can never be replaced or forgotten. Their marks have been burned deep into the hearts and minds of those who loved them, worked with them, and suffer from their loss. There are three additional tributes to John Stephenson in this issue of Appalachian Heritage. There are also tributes commemorating Al Perrin. When I heard that Al Perrin had died, many thoughts and impressions came crowding into my mind. An image ofhim as he looked when I first knew him: a tall thin figure with a straighter spine than mine though he was three decades older; salt and pepper hair, sharp blue eyes, a ready chuckle. He brimmed over with ideas and never hesitated to speak blunt and true, no matter what the subject. We first met years ago when he joined the publication board of Mountain Life & Work while I was associate editor. However, we did not have a chance to get well acquainted until I joined the special-collections staffof the college library in 1976. I was struggling to finish my first book, a bibliography on mountain women, and he was very interested. He offered to pay a typist to type the book-length manuscript. This he did, and much, much more. Al became my critic, my mentor, and my friend. He and his wife, Jean, invited me to dinner along with James Still sometimes, when James was in town. Al loved the library and used his money as well as his mind to bring about some improvements. One example is our "Boy Lincoln·"pastel drawing by Eastman Johnson. It had been given to the college in 1908. When the new library building was completed, the drawing was moved, with the rest of special-collections and archives holdings, and temporarily leaned against a wall in the new quarters. The "Boy Lincoln" had no glass cover- ing. "I awoke at two o'clock in the morning," Al told me, "wide awake from a dream or a vision, I don't know which, but I clearly saw the janitor with the vacuum cleaner getting close to the picture. The pastel chalks might be sucked right offthe canvas! I didn't sleep another wink and early in the morning I called Bess Gilbert [the librarian] at home and told her to get the painting and lock it up in her office until I got there. I had it framed with glass." Al had a serious automobile accident a few years ago and never regained his former physical stature and ease of walking, but his sharp mind kept working. To pass the time while recuperating, he found an old tin box of water colors one of his children had used and he started painting. That summer he returned from the family's vacation cabin in Michigan with a dozen or more watercolors. For as long as he could navigate with a cane, he came for his two afternoon hours in special collections. He loved books and loved to make books available to people. Alfred H. Perrin was eighty-six years old when, as Tennyson says, "God's finger touched him, and he slept." Al Perrin, seated, Loyal Jones and Wilma Dykeman. ...