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594 The Kentucky Anthology John Fetterman Another capable guide to the hills and mountains of southeastern Kentucky is John Fetterman, the late newspaperman and photographer. In the 1960s Fetterman recorded the hardscrabble lives of the mountain people who lived along Stinking Creek in Knox County, a creek possibly named for the foul odors caused by the rotting carcasses of game animals thrown into it by pioneer hunters. Fetterman based Stinking Creek (1967), a book of photographs and reportage, on numerous visits and interviews with the citizens of what was then a remote, almost inaccessible part of Kentucky. In these two selections we witness a baptism by total immersion and visit a country store. h from “Shall We Gather at the River,” Chapter 6, Stinking Creek On the day of the baptizing the creek bank was crowded with the congregation and bystanders. A swinging bridge which crosses at that point groaned on its supporting rusty steel cables as watchers gathered on it to seek a vantage point. It was a hot Sunday morning when even the big purple flies seemed loathe to expend sufficient energy to fly. But the congregation was eager and happy, pushing to the very edge of the creek through the scrub sycamore and willow growth, ignoring the gray, sticky mud, and moving closer to the sanctified spot where sixteen souls were about to step nearer the Kingdom of Heaven. The sixteen were all young people, gathered in a knot by the creek. Some of the girls wore tinted, transparent raincoats over their dresses, the coats tied tightly about them against the turbid yellow water of the creek. The older children were quiet and willing; the little ones gathered about Preacher Marsee, their eyes wide with apprehension as they wondered at the fervor of the singing that arose from the multitude gathered at the creek bank. Suddenly, Preacher Marsee, in a white shirt open at the throat, led his converts into the creek. He was at the head of the long winding line, as those to be baptized followed one by one, each holding hands with both the person in front and the person in back. The young people entered the creek downstream from the crowd, then waded up to the spot where the water deepened to waist height on the smaller ones. Preacher Marsee led the new members of his flock, carefully feeling the way with his feet, smiling, his face 594 John Fetterman 595 turned upward into the scalding sun. Preacher Marsee was collecting the fruits of his two weeks of struggle with evil in the hot little box that was Salem Baptist Church in midsummer. When he reached the baptizing hole, Preacher Marsee turned and brought the first child to his side. Placing a napkin over the little girl’s face, Preacher Marsee said in a voice that was ecstatic to the point of almost sounding like a series of gasps: “Upon this profession of faith in Christ as your Saviour and Lord, and in obedience to His command, I baptize you my sister, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.” With that, he plunged the child beneath the murky water, lowering her backward so that the water closed over her face with a quick gush, then raised her quickly. As the child went beneath the water, a chorus of voices shattered the quiet of the congregation as a hymn began: “Shall we gather at the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river . . .” One by one the line edged nearer Preacher Marsee as he repeated the ritual: “Upon this profession of faith . . .” A boy or a girl was plunged into the yellow stream. And the chorus resumed: “Shall we gather at the river That flows by the throne of God.” For Preacher Marsee it was a moment of triumph. In two short weeks his apprehensions as to the success of a revival had been swept away in a victory for his Maker. Now in the role of spokesman for a conqueror, he exulted. He clasped a boy to him, and before performing the ritual of baptism, turned to the crowd, and cried: “I feel so good. I could do this all day. Thank God! Whole families saved!” And when the next convert stepped forward, Preacher Marsee cried, “The angels are hovering over this creek today, and the Lord is looking down.” As the believer was plunged into the water, the voices on the bank sang: “Shall we gather at the...

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