Men who were seventh sons, or the seventh son of a seventh son, were also given the nickname “Doc” due to the belief that men born as the seventh son were destined to be healers in some manner. The widely known granny woman, who was usually the midwife, also aided with minor maladies such as cracking feet, cuts or bruises, colic, and the like, but usually didn't perform surgery or bloodletting, or prescribe any “store doctor” drugs such as mercury or Indian vegetable pills, an old-time cure-all that was sold back then for a wide variety of ailments. This was during the time when folks were getting used to pharmacies popping up, and we are sure stubborn creatures of habit, so we never let go of our herbs (that is, until recently, once folks stopped passing down remedies).

Cow and Horse Doctors

There were also doctors who specialized solely in animals and livestock. They often used herbs gathered from the land or liniments and other drugs from the local drugstore prepared in at-home ways to heal animals. These were often simply called cow or horse doctors, although there's little record of this title being added to anyone's name. Both root doctors and cow or horse doctors sometimes also employed practices of Western medicine used at the time, such as bloodletting, cupping, vaccine administration, and even surgery.

Witchdoctors, Conjurers, Root Workers, Hex Doctors, Witch Finders, and Love Doctors

Next, we have the witchdoctor, the conjurer, the root worker, the hex doctor, the witch finder, and the love doctor. The witchdoctor and conjurers, or the root worker (as opposed to root doctor), worked roots not only for medicine of the body but also for the mind and spirit. Horton Cooper calls them “hex doctors,” which is a carryover from Germany, where the word hexen means “witch.” The hex doctor sold powders and roots such as Adam and Eve root (an orchid native to the mountains) and High John the Conqueror root. There were also love doctors, who aided folks in finding and keeping love or calling a lover back home. They gave powders to be sprinkled in the lover's path or directly on them, created the hex or root, and doctored it.

While many know this as conjure or root work, those raised in the work and in the know called it “doctoring the devil,” whether you're doctoring a root for someone or doctoring them of a root they're currently under. This title acknowledges how fine the line is between God and the Devil. It's easy to sway with the power.

Folk Magic versus Conjure

Some say anyone can become a true conjurer or witchdoctor, while others say you have to have a gift for it in order to do it right. Here is where I will make the distinction, as I see it, between folk magic and conjure. Folk magic or root work is the magical act of using roots and things to influence, incapacitate, attract, avert, or change a situation of the present or future in some manner. This includes superstitions such as tossing salt over your shoulder, exiting the same door you entered through lest your spirit get trapped, turning your pockets inside out to avert bad luck, and carrying a buckeye or walnut in the pocket for luck or to ease arthritis. These kinds of things are practiced knowingly or out of habit by the majority of folks in Appalachia. Folk magic is any superstitious action taken without an appeal or prayer to a higher spirit or divinity that is alleged to cause a supernatural result. It works by belief, the power of the person with the root, and the power of the action taken. Much of Appalachian folk magic and superstition is based on sympathetic magic where like actions create like causes, such as turning your pockets inside out to also turn inside out or away the bad luck. The power behind these was furthered in our picking them up from the old folks without question. Without question because we see that they work!

Conjure, on the other hand, is the direct and intentional employment of spirits, whether they be spirits of the graveyard, the ancestors, simple spirits of the land you live on, or some other presence, to work on your behalf. This also includes angels and God. Yes, God is worked with here. He is the first conjurer, after all, conjuring up the world in seven days. Conjure is root work and folk magic but with a helping hand, whether it's helping you get a bird's-eye view of a situation or taking care of things for you. Conjurers are experts when it comes to the unseen: they know how to deal with it, make it, handle it, cure it, or repel it. They take folk magic a bit deeper and knowingly work and twist the hand of nature in their favor.

We walk both here and in spirit simultaneously, and sometimes continuously. It's nothing for me to walk down the streets in Old Jonesborough and have a conversation with both the neighborly shop owners as well as the spirits that wander the roads alongside them. Growing up, and still to this day, I'll see my mother and grandmother speak about or to spirits they see. Nana sometimes sees a woman out the window, standing at the crossroads. She'll wave, but she says the woman doesn't wave back. Nana has also seen many people across the street throwing a barbecue, yet no one is physically in the yard.

In Appalachia, among those with the Gift and the sight, the veil between the living and the dead is very thin, sometimes nonexistent. If someone doesn't know what's going on or why they keep seeing things, it can very well drive them mad. Because they're scared, they don't know what's going on, and they can't tell what is physically there and what's not. It can't be controlled, only slipped into like a suit. However, at the beginning the suit can wear you instead of you wearing it!

DEGREES OF PRACTICE

I'm going to explain the difference between each degree of practitioners here, but be mindful they often cross and intersect a lot, examples of which we will see later. So there may be some faith healers who are also yarb or root doctors. There may be some root doctors who are also root workers, using roots to aid not only the body but also the mind and soul. Furthermore, anyone could be a little bit of all: a faith healer who uses roots to heal and to bring money, love, or justice. Then they may stay separate altogether, based on upbringing and personal belief. I've met some faith healers who'll have nothing to do with working roots because they believe that it's evil or that they can't handle the power. There are also tales of yarb doctors disbelieving that roots can draw money or that you can conjure the dead or other spirits. So this isn't a set area, but an array of beliefs and degrees of practice separated only by the hills of our ancestors.

Taking into account the actions and practices by the other working folks prior, there's a bit of both folk magic and conjure done by each, whether some are aware of it or not. The degrees of faith healing, root doctoring, and conjuring often overlap. The faith healers pray to the angels and to God to aid in healing using Bible verses, so naturally it includes a certain degree of conjuring, not only in the aspect of calling on spiritual aid but also in hand movements or superstitious practices as well, such as my grandfather using an egg to take out a fever by passing the egg over the head a certain way with prayers; he was not only praying to God for relief, his hands were working in the relief by conjuring the fever out and into a more suitable home that can take its heat: the egg.

Sometimes the healer would give the person restrictions on diet or activities based on superstitious belief. For example, for swellings it would be recommended to abstain from fish or anything caught from the water until the third Sunday after the swelling had subsided. In the case of burns, once the “fire” was gone, you had to wait for that window to close, a window in which the “fire” could hop back into the burn. This is why folklore often recommends refraining from lighting fires or using matches and lighters until after a burn has healed. If a burn is allowed to fester with the “fire” still in it, it will reach the bone and cause a scar. But those able to reach a burn doctor in time often had complete recovery with no scarring, regardless of the severity of the burn.

Preachers also sometimes resort to divination to speak with God and the spirits through bibliomancy: opening the Bible to a random page and verse after a question or need has been stated to find the answer or solution on said page. Nana and Papaw did this and said if you ask a question and open the Bible to a verse where Christ is speaking, or to a verse that begins “and it came to pass,” then that is a strong yes to your question.

The yarb or root doctor healed with herbs and usually didn't stick with the simple physical medicine of pills and herb, and these were numerous throughout the region. Just about anyone could pick up a copy of Gunn's Domestic Medicine, get a horse, a bag, a lancet, and a few drugs and other tools and call himself a doctor or physician. John C. Gunn specifically wrote his book for these folks. In the event that a “trained” physician couldn't be reached, it taught you what to do until such a time. Because the normal man could do this, the varying degrees of method and belief in their practices are numerous.

If you've been having a run of bad luck with your health, they might've recommended a certain herb or concoction for the illness but also may have advised taking castor oil for a number of days, due to the belief that castor oil helps purge the body of impurities, including jinxes and tricks. Certain tricks were also hidden in food and found their way into the body by polluting the blood or stomach. In Appalachian folk medicine, many still believe that diseases can be caused by many things: dead animals, tainted food, bathroom fumes, ancestors, demons, spells. The blood allegedly becomes polluted by organic matter that comes into the body via the air or food and drink. This can set up imbalances in the body or cause food to get lodged in the intestines and begin to rot, setting the stage for disease. Here also dietary restrictions may be given. For example, some say don't eat chocolate or drink coffee because it can make rheumatism or arthritis worsen.

Back in the day, tricks such as powdered spider eggs, horsehair, and other such things were introduced into someone's food to conjure them. Spider eggs were often cooked into dumplings or powdered in with ice cream, so again dietary restrictions were advised if this was thought to be the suspect. The work then gets in the body and pollutes it, and the person becomes “rooted,” “witched,” or “hexed.”

Conjure and folk magic sometimes crossed into the realm of the yarb doctor or herb healer, and they also used herbs, purgatives, and washes to help expel “roots” from the body. The yarb or root doctor could be seen praying or reciting Bible verses while creating teas, salves, or compresses, or doing divination, to understand the severity of the person's illness and to see if they'd make it. (The most common form of divination throughout the hills was tea or coffee readings. These were often done for entertainment during hog killings, wakes, and house bees, a time when the whole neighborhood came together to help build a home for a family from hewn logs.)

The cow or horse doctor sometimes employed not only herbs but also prayers, and sometimes knew a thing or two about curing the evil eye or witchcraft when a cow gave bloody milk or a horse couldn't stand. In this way, some would take an herb, usually powdered with other things, and either put it in a wound, give it in drinking water, or dust the animal from head to tail to cure the ailment, whether of physical or spiritual origin.

The witchdoctor primarily cured the effects of witchcraft or conjure in both people and animals; however, he was oftentimes also a root worker or conjurer who folks would go to for luck in money, love, and court cases, among other things, including curses. The practices of the conjurer in the South varied greatly, especially coming into the early twentieth century, when products such as powders and oils were marketed to the public in drugstores and specialty shops alike. Along with these, one could find guidebooks telling you how to win the lottery with lucky numbers in dream books; curio catalogues professing the powers of roots and charms such as a lucky rabbit's foot or galax root; and other books showing you how to work spells or black magic with lamps and candles. Among these titles were Pow-Wows or Long Lost Friend by John George Hohman, The Guide to Health by Ossman & Steel, Egyptian Secrets by Albertus Magnus, The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses (highly taboo), and Ten Lost Books of the Prophets. My grandfather had a couple volumes of this last one, which contained the magical knowledge of Solomon, Jesus, and others. He also owned a book called The Guiding Light to Power and Success by Mikhail Strabo, which spoke of using candles and Bible verse to achieve love, success, and money, and to curse one's enemies. These books were highly marketed, and contained influences from many cultures. This may help explain why the guidance and methods contained within them continued to be used in some communities decades after they were originally published. I wouldn't put it past folks to have taken up a couple of these and simply started conjuring, along the way professing their power over the competition, especially in the urban areas such as Knoxville.

Next on our list: the witch finder. The witch finder specialized in not only doctoring the witchcraft afflicting a person but also in finding the person who sent it. Whether it was using a picture of the suspect nailed to a tree, a wire hoop, or cutting with a knife the urine or milk of the afflicted, the witch finder's specialty was drawing the witch to come forth no matter what in order to visit the home, usually to borrow an item such as salt, sugar, or bread—anything to keep a charm over the afflicted person. Once a work has been undone or reversed, the ties that were used (such as hair, nail clippings, or worn clothes) become useless. The witchdoctor has called their spirit back from the item and it's no longer tied to the person, which warrants another visit to the person's home to try to get something else to “keep a hold on them.” For this reason it was often said to keep from lending any item from the home or allowing the same to be stolen for some time, usually nine days—otherwise the witch finder's charm would be rendered useless as the witch regained power over the victim.

Those born with the sight are said to be able to speak with the dead and have knowledge of events in the past, present, or future. Many conjuring folk with the sight will do little more with their Gift than warn family and friends or possibly read for people. These are the fortune-tellers and prophets. They may knowingly take up this work, or it's possible they won't know of it and will often end up being a top person in the church who speaks prophecies over people or their situations, bringing the Holy Spirit through to enact change. In this way, they would use a form of conjuring by bringing in not just any spirit but The Spirit for a person. By speaking prophecies or testifying, they use the spoken words as their prayers and petitions and enactments on the situation. Not only saying what will be, but ensuring it as well.

The conjurer, root worker, or hex doctor, according to folk belief and stories, was the most feared figure in the community, next to the witch. He was tolerated because folks were under the assumption that he didn't get his powers from the Devil, but they were still cautious around him and sometimes when speaking of him. Conjure folk weren't always equated with the Devil, but they weren't exactly seen sitting in the pews on Sunday, either. This scared folks more because they didn't know for certain who the conjurer “answered to,” who his “master” was. In truth, he had no master; he worked for himself. He worked roots and minerals and animal parts into sachets and powders to employ the root, either for or against you, all the while whispering and muttering charms, enchantments, and statements known only to him and the spirits he kept company with. The conjurer knew the spirits much like you know your family members, because often they were his family—ghosts of ancestors long gone and recently left, who aided, advised, and consoled him. With these roots and the know-how of twisting nature's hand, he could bring money or love, favor in court, or illness to your enemies (or you).

Even the law had trouble getting these folks for practicing medicine without a license, as in the case of the famous Dr. Buzzard. The conjure man was the hillside Capone for folks here. Don't mess with him, and he won't mess with you. And if anyone came looking for such a person with bad intentions, folks kept their lips zipped because they believed that what the doctor had done for them could be undone just as quickly.

A COMMUNITY STANDARD

Some only worked “good” magic, while others worked tongue-in-cheek on those who did them wrong. It was a popular belief in all of the South that God has just as much to do with fortune as you do, so if something bad happened to your enemies, it was in His will. The conjurer is the person folks turn to when they believe they have been cursed. Family and friends think they have gone crazy and the medical doctors can't figure out why their legs are swelling or their guts feel like they're being pulled out. The conjure doctor was the last resort for many—and still is. Runs of bad luck and illness can decimate a person's entire livelihood here, and for Appalachian Americans, God's timing just isn't quick enough sometimes—so they'd go to the conjure man or woman's house to see what was the matter and to persuade the spirits.

Now people of this profession often exemplified many of these attributes of conjurer, witchdoctor, and witch finder. Some conjurers or root workers simply used herbs in a spiritual way, showing no regular use of their medicinal value aside from the common household remedies folks are raised on in our culture. Some conjurers can not only cure witchcraft or find out who did it, they can also “put the witch under” (in the grave) using their same work. Other times, folks were simply witchdoctors, like Ed McTeer of South Carolina, who only used “white witchcraft,” as he called it, to remove the curses and jinxes of other doctors in the area. A reversal isn't guaranteed, though; some people could find out a witch or person behind the matter but didn't have the capability of reversing the work.

Witches were viewed with disdain in much of southern Appalachia. In every community, there was always one person, male or female, who was not trusted or accepted by the rest of the community for one reason or another, which is often inflated as stories get passed down. The community believed this outcast person shouldn't be trusted because they were odd and kept to themselves, which usually lead to the accusation that they were dealing with the Devil for their powers of spells and knowing. Sometimes this was normal bias, while other times it was racially fueled, as is the case of many melungeon families accused back then as can be seen in the stories collected by Hubert Davis in The Silver Bullet. Here's the kicker: Appalachian witches were conjurers and root workers as we can see from the old stories of them entertaining spirits and of folks going to them to get roots for money and love as well as cursing—the same work of the accepted conjurer or root worker. That's not to say everybody just loved the conjurer up and down; they were simply held at a better status in the community than the witch. Folks tolerated them and the idea of what they did. However, caution was thick in the air of the communities when it came to conjurers and witchdoctors because some of them were said to “turn” from God and “have the Devil whisper in their ear,” or work with both, although their titles rarely changed after the fact. But what about the witch? Only the most desperate would go to them. Most folks would've rather had a conjurer come stay in their home, cooked them food, and had them eat at their table than have anything to do with a witch.

THE FOLK WITCH

So both the conjurer and the witch did the same works. They used the same roots and worked for the same causes. They visited the same graveyards and crossroads and oftentimes dealt with the same spirits. The only distinction ever seen in the old folk tales and stories, when compared, is the group belief or attitude of the community about that individual and the tales that sprung up around them. We can see the same phenomena occur throughout history across the world where folks held in high regard in the community do the same thing as those at the bottom of the social ladder. The former often gets by without folks batting an eye, while the latter is shunned, called names, excommunicated, and sometimes denied service from shops in town. They are isolated for doing the same acts committed by a “better” man. Sometimes, these allegations were utterly false and the said “witch” wasn't one at all.

Even in the words used we can see this divide: conjure and folk magic, that done by normal folks and those respected in the community never really had a name; faith healers tried for someone's health, the practice of the yarb doctor was simply called superstition by their Western medical superiors, and the witchdoctor simply did work or roots on your behalf. However, when something bad was done to someone spiritually, it was and is called witchcraft, because that name carries the same feeling surrounding the folk witch. It is still witchcraft even if the sender is another respected witchdoctor. While people often mistake the witch for the conjure doctor and vice versa, the witch mostly did works of retaliation in return for wrongs done against her. The conjurer was for hire, furnishing folks with spells to get money, find lost items or livestock, take off witchcraft, or curse folks.

Due to the Civil War, many records were lost or destroyed. It's been proposed that this is why there are only a small handful of witchcraft convictions recorded in southern Appalachia. And there are no written documents detailing the execution of a person as a witch. So in Appalachia it seems the limit of witch hysteria seemed to stay at excommunication and public disgrace for the outcast, with a little religious condemnation on the side.

Furthermore, the person's reputation oftentimes was never founded on what they actually did, but on the assumptions and exaggerations of the superstitious community. This is where baby-eating, broom-flying witches come from. These exaggerations often included the Appalachian folk witch turning into an animal, such as a solid black or white cat, a white deer, a boar, a turkey, or a possum, just to name a few. This also included impossible acts such as flying through keyholes and witches slipping from their skin to ride people at night, which was the explanation for people sleepwalking. Other tales detail how one can become a witch, such as by shooting a homemade silver bullet at the full moon while renouncing the Almighty, or standing on the oldest grave and renouncing the Church in order to meet the Devil.

We cannot truly know the practices and methods employed by the folk witch because nobody would associate with them. All we have to go on are exaggerated tales created for entertainment, and a few firsthand accounts. We could compare their stories to similar accounts of yarb and conjure doctors, though, which often have more footing in the real world and outnumber those of the folk witch. They did, after all, do the same works.

Aside from the convicting and often impossible activities of the witch, elements of folk magic were and are largely used by the common people, such as hanging a horseshoe above the door for luck and to avert witches, or keeping a jar of money by the door to draw prosperity. However, some things require professional aid from someone trained in the higher manners of conjure. That's when folks turn to the root worker or witchdoctor, someone more powerful than they are in creating change and moving roots. They're the ones born for it because they have the Gift. Just like jobs, we have specialties about us. Some folks are better at working roots for justice or money, as opposed to protection or love for other people. I myself am better at protection than I am at love work. But back in the day folks often made their living off this, so they were a bit territorial over their area and their clientele and wouldn't often recommend another worker.

STORIES AS TEMPLATES AND GUIDES

Tales of witchcraft and conjuring in Appalachia are a lot of times exaggerated for the storytelling, and over time the truth can become twisted or changed. However, we can find the meaning behind certain things by comparing them to similar tales. This is what I like to call root culture: a set of similar scenes, problems, solutions, and practices seen in the witch and conjure stories of the South. This not only applies to tales from Appalachia but also the Carolina coasts, the Gulf Coast, the Ozarks, and the southern Plains. Folk stories take on lives of their own, and they've got cousins and sisters and twins in every part of the world. By examining their underlying themes, we can better come to a parent belief of the times.

First, we need to establish that the majority of the tricks and formulas used in Appalachia—at least some component of them—are sympathetic in nature, such as gathering dirt from a working railroad, especially as the train passes (which isn't safe or recommended), to send someone or something away. We also see in many tales that witches can be killed or brought out of hiding through sympathetic means. These are sometimes the same methods employed by the conjurers as well.

Methods for Killing or Harming a Witch

A widely dispersed method of killing a witch was to draw a picture of the witch on a piece of paper, wood, or cardboard, nail the image to a tree, and shoot it with a silver bullet, usually fashioned from old dimes or quarters, which had a high silver content back then. Wherever the drawing received damage, the witch would as well, so their injuries outed them as a witch to the victim.

One story from my family's old homestead in Tipton Hill, North Carolina, was of a woman by the name of Pheobe Lingerfeltz of Pigeon Roost. The story, as related by my Mamaw Hopson's neighbor, Harvey Miller, is a first-person account of him hunting for turkeys in the woods. Each time, there was one turkey in particular that would sneak up on him and mess up his aim when trying to shoot one of the birds. So he fired at this persistent turkey, close enough that missing was logically impossible. But each time he missed. He figured the turkey must be a witch turkey, so he took it upon himself to craft a silver bullet, the only thing said to be able to kill a witch, and set out again. When he saw the turkey, he again took aim and fired away, harming the turkey in the leg. It got away before he could finish the job. A few days later, word came to him of a woman up the holler who had “took to the bed” due to severe rheumatism in her leg. The woman was Pheobe, the turkey witch, and she walked with a limp for the rest of her life.

Another story, coming from Wise County, Virginia, recounts a time when a farmer's cow gave bloody milk after a woman had come by and said how “mighty fine” the animal was. A friend recommended cutting a square piece of pig meat from the left hind leg and heating it on the stove on low. By the time the meat begins to cook, the witch would be knocking at the door. Well, sure enough, there was a knock at the door about an hour after the meat was put on. A woman asked if she could borrow the plow. The farmer told her his neighbor had it, and she left. But in a bit there was another knock at the door. This time the woman was obviously fidgeting and impatient. “You got any fresh water?” she asked. The farmer told her the bucket hadn't been brought from the well yet, so she took her leave. That piece of meat continued getting hotter and hotter until it started baking, at which point the farmer saw the woman running down the road heading toward the house, holding her shoulder. She barged in the door and pointed at the stove. “Take that damn thing out of there or you're gonna kill me!” She revealed her shoulder, and sure enough it was as crisp and cooked as the meat in the oven.

Head and Foot Rites

We can also take into account head and foot rites, where the space between the crown of the head and the soles of the feet are the measurements of the person and are specific to them. The head and feet are also a spiritual entry point, for blessings or curses. We see this applied in one witch tale, which has different variations based on location. The tale says that to become a witch you have to go up to the highest hill in the area at dawn and say Bible verses backward as the sun rises. Either the Devil or one of his witches will appear and place one hand on your head and one on the bottom of your left foot. They will then ask you to renounce the Lord and dedicate all that lays between their hands to the Devil and his works.

So here the placement of the hands on the head and feet are being used in an agreement or contract, with the measurement of the person being not only the collateral but also the physical contract. This leads to the popular belief in witch marks—places on the body that indicate one is a witch and in league with Satan. Witch marks could be black moles, odd growths, or other strange markings or scars on the body. For melungeon people accused of such, the sign was usually being born polydactyl. In the above story, a witch mark would be the “signature” on the contract. These stories are largely exaggerated, but if there's a bit of truth in them, then these elements of the tales, such as a high place, hands on the head and feet, and the time of sunrise can be tied to other stories and further connected to old-time remedies and charms that have been recorded by folks who didn't profess themselves as witches.

Other Indicators of a Witch

The idea of markings on the body indicating witchcraft or devilment never really took hold in Appalachia. Rather, it was how someone dressed or acted, including strange combinations of their genetics, such as hair, skin, and eye color. In Appalachia, this could include an African American with red hair and blue eyes, or a person with eyes that changed color later in life, another reasoning applied to melungeon witches.

Still, certain attitudes and behaviors could apparently give away a witch's acts, such as refusing any neighbor or person who asked to borrow anything, regardless of the article in need. This was sometimes done by a lot of folks, but usually only concerning salt, butter, milk, or flour—things that nourish the home and family—and usually this was only done when someone in the home had been “shot” or afflicted with witchcraft and they were at that time waiting for the witch to come as the witch finder forced them out to come to the home. No, the one named a witch for this behavior always did this, regardless of the item needed or current events in the community. Folks say this was so she could “keep her power.”