KELLY FORD

George Eckart and family crossing Kelly Ford, 1913.

Walter Collins' sister-in-law, Grace Paul Kelly, 92 was married to John Kelly, one of Henry's sons. While visiting here from Colorado recently, she told of times when high waters came up as far as their front porch in the hollow. Whenever Kelly Ford was too deep to cross on foot, they often would hear neighbors hollering from across the river asking Mr. Kelly to bring them across in his big john boat.

Across the river from Kelly Hollow, below Rainbow Springs, is "Tater Cave." Early settlers discovered its constant temperature and humidity made it an ideal place to store their sweet potatoes through the winter. As a young girl, Mrs. Kelly had the job of fetching potatoes from her family's barrel in the cave. Ducking under the low entrance with a burning pine knot, she had to look out for snakes that found he cave an equally ideal place to spend the winter.

There are several other large caves in the neighborhood that adventurous youngsters liked to explore as far as their pine knots would last.

They usually tied a string to a tree near the entrance, unrolling it as they went so they could find their way back. But one group of youngsters who went into a cave on the Kelly property got "claustrophobia" squeezing through a narrower passage and emerged badly frightened. After that, Mrs. Kelly decreed there would be no more expeditions into the cave while she lived on that property.
 

THE "OTTO ROCK"

A tamer and universally enjoyable pastime was fishing. There were no trout in the North Fork until the owners of Rainbow Springs built a hatchery and started stocking them. But there was plenty of sport and good eating from carp, perch, goggle eyes, catfish, pike, bass and other fish that are native to the river. Crayfish, or "crawdads," were delicacies for many river people. Eels used to be common, but the dams built downstream make it impossible now for the eels to migrate upstream to spawn, some say.

Among the fishermen in that part of the river were George and Otto Eckart, brothers who homesteaded land along there in the 1890s. As artists in Chicago, they had been friends of Michael Brand, founder of the fruit empire at Brandsville. At Brand's invitation, they came down one summer to pick peaches. They fell in love with the river and brought their families back the next year. They moved back to Chicago a few years later, but they kept the land and returned for extended vacations each year. Their attachment to the river has endured for succeeding generations, as it has for the descendants of other pioneer families.

During hard times, many families or their offspring were forced to leave their homes along the river and seek jobs elsewhere. But it's amazing how many of them later found their way back as soon as circumstances allowed.

George Eckart's son, Kurt, returned to live near the original family home above Portwood Hollow when he retired. Otto Eckart's son, Vernon, retired in West Plains, but enjoys visiting the Eckart river property on weekends. They both mentioned that Vernon's father spent so much time fishing from one big rock below Kelly Ford that it became known as the "Otto Rock."

The popularity of gigging, or spear fishing, for suckers at night gave rise to the unique Ozarks gigging boat. It was a long, flat-bottomed boat that was propelled easily up and down the river with long poles. To keep the seams tight it was never taken out of the water.
 

Crossing the North Fork in a gigging boat, 1920s.

The classic gigging boat, according to the Eckarts, was made from just three tapered pine boards -one 16 to 18 inches wide for the bottom and two 14 inches wide for the sides. Of course there had to be some splices lengthwise when the boats got up to 32 feet long. But it would be hard to find boards wide enough to make such boats today.

The giggers would set a "fire jack" (a wooden platform covered with wet mud) across the middle of the boat. Burning pine knots would be stuck into the mud like candles in a cake, and the light would draw fish near the boat at night.

Every so often in summer, the neighbors held big fish fries in Kelly Hollow. After gigging all night, the men would come back with their boats filled with suckers. Their faces still black with soot from the burning pine knots, the tired men would rest in the shade while the women fried the fish and the children took turns churning the ice cream. There were always bawling babies and flies everywhere, but everyone had a great time, the Eckarts remembered.
 

At Casey Ford, less than a mile below Kelly Ford, I came to a concrete bridge with the name McKee painted on the upstream side. This, I learned, was constructed for private use in 1974 by Warren McKee, 61, who owns property on both sides of the river and runs a sawmill on the old Kelly place.

His father, Arthur McKee, moved his family to the river from Pottersville in 1932. Neighbors and relatives questioned his economic judgment, but the land was cheap and had plenty of marketable timber on it.

Although the Depression years kept everyone's attention mostly on the immediate problems of survival, McKee points with pride to the benefits of more careful land management since the days of the early settlers. The woods are now populated with turkey and deer, something his father rarely saw.

McKee also said he has learned to appreciate more of the natural beauty of the area in recent years. "I always liked to hunt and fish, but I guess I never paid much attention to the trees and the flowers. Then one time a guy was telling me how pretty he thought they were. Ever since then I've noticed things like that."

Gardens and livestock meant people who subsisted along the river usually had enough to eat, McKee said. But as recently as 25 years ago life was almost as hard as it had been for the original settlers. Water was hauled long distances from springs. Clothes were washed by hand on scrub boards. Because there was no refrigeration, the kitchen ranges had to be fired up even in the heat of the summer to can all the meat from hogs when they were butchered. The last chores of the day were done by the light of kerosene lanterns, before everyone fell into exhausted sleep.

Today, even with greater material comforts, it's still hard for river residents to make a living. Beyond a handful of farmers, most local people now fit into three categories: retirees, weekend cabin owners and canoe outfitters.

Myron and Ann McKee

They are a happy-looking couple, although the North Fork holds some poignant memories for Myron. When he was nine years old, his father was drowned while trying to cross Kelly Ford on horseback during high water.

Within a year, the family farm was sold and the family moved away. Myron's mother wanted to leave to start a new life, but he never stopped thinking of the land along the North Fork River as home. As he was growing up, he dreamed of returning someday.

But Myron and Ann had to consider the limited economic opportunities in the area. Their experience packing fruits and vegetables during the summer in California suggested a solution. For the last several years they have earned enough money through seasonal work elsewhere to allow them to live on the river the rest of the year. When I talked to them, they were getting ready to leave to pack tomatoes in Arkansas and perhaps move on to California for the fruit harvests.