Recently, I was digitizing an interview conducted by Augusta’s former Folk Arts Coordinator, Gerry Milnes, that drew me into a haunting, 200 year-old folktale. At this point, I had listened to quite a few of Milnes’ interviews, and most of the time, his questioning style is very conversational and easy going. The conversation often sounds natural and the questions seem like they come to him in the moment (although, I’m sure he prepped beforehand). However, Milnes began this interview with, “I have so many questions for you.” This caught my attention.
The subjects of the interview were talking about Naomi Wise—the infamous 19th century murder victim. Wise’s murder is preserved in a ballad—”Omie Wise’s Ballad”—first written as a poem by Mary Woody in the early 1800s. It is one of the country’s oldest murder ballads. Naomi Wise lived in Randolph County, North Carolina, where streets, bridges, and churches still bear her name. In 1807 or 1808, she was said to have been drowned in the Deep River by her lover John Lewis. North Carolina court records back this up with evidence of Lewis being acquitted for the murder. Several years later, he allegedly admitted to the crime on his deathbed.
Curiously, Naomi Wise’s legacy extends across state lines. West Virginians have also claimed ownership of Naomi Wise. One of the subjects of Milnes’ interview, Leroy Wingfield, believed that Wise had actually lived in Randolph County, West Virginia—not North Carolina. In his version of the tale, she had been drowned in the Cheat River, as opposed to the Deep River. During the Great Depression, Wingfield was cutting timber on his family’s property and stumbled across a rosebush. Upon closer inspection, a gravestone peaked out through the roses. He inquired about it to the local grist miller, who informed him that it belonged to his “kinfolks.” Wingfield was surprised to learn that the woman in the grave was allegedly his mother’s half-sister. He pointed a couple local historians, Charles and Odie Chapman, in the direction of Naomi Wise, and after conducting their own research into the oral tradition, they made Wise’s story part the official record.
In addition to the grave on Pheasant Mountain, Wise inspired another song with reference to Randolph County, West Virginia. Below is the West Virginia version of “Omie Wise’s Ballad,” collected by Amanda Ellen Eddy of Rivesville, West Virginia.
Oh come all you young people, a story I will tell About a maid they called Naomi Wise. Her face was fair and handsome: She was loved by everyone; In Randolph County now her body lies. They say she had a lover, young Lewis was his name; Each evening he would have her by his side; She learned to love and trust him and she believed his word. He told her she was doomed to be his bride. One summer night he met her and took her for a ride; She thought that she was going to be wed. They came down old Cheat River, and so the story goes, "You have met your doom," these words the villain said. She begged him just to spare her; the villain only laughed. They say he was heartless to the core. In the stream he threw her, below the old mill dam, And sweet Naomi's smile was seen no more. Next day they found her body, floating down the stream, And all the folks for miles around did cry. Young Lewis left the country; they brought him back again, But could not prove that he had her to die. They say that on his deathbed young Lewis did confess; He said that he had killed Naomi Wise. So now we know her spirit still lingers round the place To save some girl from some villain's lies. Young people, oh take warning and listen while I say, You must take care before it's too late. Don't listen to the story some villain tongue may tell, Or you are sure to meet Naomi's fate.
A couple weeks ago, Gerry Milnes took me to visit Naomi Wise’s grave. It is a solitary grave in the woods, walking distance from a hunting cabin. The overgrown plants were fenced in by a small stone wall which was caving in on one side. We cleaned some moss off the headstone. I was taken aback by her epitaph: Naomi Wise Killed in the Late 1870s. While most epitaphs strive for a peaceful tone, Wise’s stone sparks questions. Despite knowing the history behind the gravestone, seeing the abandoned grave and the provocative epitaph in the middle of the woods made me feel like I was stumbling onto a mystery.
I can’t say whether Naomi Wise was actually from Randolph County, West Virginia or North Carolina. But someone is buried in that grave on Pheasant Mountain. Gerry Milnes’ research indicates that it was most likely another young woman, who was named Ruhama and was murdered around 1880 under circumstances not unlike Naomi Wise’s. While I was initially interested in how the song functioned as a historical record, I think it better serves to help us understand the nature of folklore (which, Gerry Milnes has written about) and the relationship between folklore and gender.
Seeing how people throughout the years have interacted with murder ballads could provide insight into women’s position in society and the role of folklore in their lives. Murder ballads have been passed down through the years, evidencing violence against women and potentially romanticizing it. The allure of legend and mystery can make the story seem more fascinating than disturbing. I was struck by the warning at the end of the song, which states that all people should assume they could fall victim to the same circumstances and heed caution. While this shows concern for women, it also lowers the standards for men’s behavior by making violence against women seem inevitable.
In my short time in Elkins, I’ve realized the importance of lore and song to West Virginians. Folklore and songs connect generations and peoples across West Virginia and Appalachia, giving voice to shared experiences. Milnes explained “The Naoma Wise story has bounced in and out of the written record, popular culture, recorded and unrecorded song, oral story and legend, regional traditions, racial groups, and geography for 185 years.” The story has been passed around in many different ways—by writing this blog post, I’m sustaining Naomi Wise’s story in a small way. After researching Naomi Wise, I’m reminded of the importance of questioning the ways things appear and how they change over time. Folklore is not always factual or one-sided, but the layers of history give it value, enabling us to learn more about our communities, different perspectives, and histories through it.
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