As summer was heading toward fall, the spring we depended on for water stopped flowing and each day the water level was lower. We started carrying water from a spring farther down the mountain. Neither my brother nor I could carry a full bucket. He would fill one about half full and I used an eight-pound lard bucket.
It was a really hard job, especially on wash day, back then Mom always boiled the clothes before scrubbing them on a washboard and then rinsing them and it took several tubs of water. We had rain barrels to catch rainwater, but this time of year it didn’t rain much. Mom washed clothes on Mondays, and starting early in the morning it took many trips up and down the path to the spring.
Dad began talking about getting a well dug and after asking around about people who would do a good job, the name Tincher was mentioned most, so one Saturday he went to see Mr. Tincher. When he came back he said it was all set and that Mr. Tincher would be coming to inspect the site.
I remember the day Mr. Tincher came to look over the land and determine how much money and what equipment he would need to do the job. After walking around and talking for a while they agreed on a price and Mr. Tincher said he had a good idea of what equipment he would need and that he was just finishing a job and we could be next on his list if we wanted. He could bring in his rig, get everything set up, and depending on the weather probably could have us a well before the end of next week.
He also told Dad about a man, he knew, who was good at witching [hunting] for water and finding the best place to drill. He suggested dad get him to mark a spot to drill. He said he had drilled a lot of wells where the man had indicated and he hadn’t been wrong yet.
I remember hearing Mom and Dad talking about it. Dad was very skeptical and thought it would just be a waste of money but Mom thought it a good idea but was afraid he might mark a spot farther from the house than she would like, anyway, they agreed that Dad should go see him and ask if he could come that weekend. Once things had started they didn’t want anything to hold up the job.
That Saturday we were out back when we heard an old car come rattling up the road. It stopped out front and I remember hearing someone say, “he’s here”. I remember sneaking around the edge of the house to get a good look at him. I think I was expecting to see a witch since I had heard him called the witch man. Instead, a short guy with a long dirty coat and a big black hat got out and came across the road toward the house. Dad went to meet him and they sat on the front steps and talked for a while. I finally got up enough nerve to move close enough to hear them talking. I heard him tell Dad, “There are three things I will need, a forked limb from a Witch Hazel bush, a silver coin, dime or quarter, either one will work and a cup of good coffee”. They then went inside and sat down at the kitchen table and Dad asked Mom if she had any coffee left. Looking through the open doorway I saw her set cups on the table and she sent my older brother to the spring house to get some cream. I heard the man ask her if she had any sugar or syrup to sweeten it a bit. I don’t know what she gave him but I do know that it was during war time and sugar and coffee were two of many things that were rationed and could only be purchased with a ration coupon when available and therefore was used very sparingly. Postum was a product often used as a substitute for coffee and maple syrup or molasses was often substituted for sugar, although she may have had real coffee and sugar that day.
I remember standing outside the back door, while they drank their coffee. They were in no hurry and It seemed to me like it took hours but finally, they came outside and I heard the witch man ask Dad if he had a preferred spot for the well location and Dad said as close to the house as possible. He then asked Dad if he knew where a Witch Hazel bush might be growing, and then said, if not he could make do with a limb from one of the peach trees he had seen. I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have wanted that and so walking down to the edge of the woods, he used his pocket knife to cut down a small Witch Hazel sapling growing there. He brought it back and handed it to the witch man along with his knife. I remember seeing him trim off all the twigs and branches, leaving only a long forked stick. He then cut through the stick splitting the crotch and making a slot so that he could insert a coin into it with the coin contacting all three points of the fork. Having finished working on the stick he looked at me and said, “Where’s the money”. Being the backward, bashful, country boy I was back in those days, I don’t think I even answered but headed back closer to the house and did the rest of my watching sitting on top of a big Chestnut stump that was waiting to be grubbed out of the ground.
I sat there like a knot on a log, watching as the man walked back and forth, crisscrossing the backyard while holding that stick out in front of him. He held it by the forked end holding one fork in each hand with the shaft pointing straight out in front, level with the ground. I didn’t know what I was watching for and I never saw anything happen but after a while and much walking back and forth, he stopped and bending down, stuck the stick in the ground just a few feet from the back door. and announced, “This is the place to dig.”
He then commenced walking toward me and just as I made up my mind to run he reached out his hand saying here’s your money, and he gave me the dime he had been using in the witching stick. Later, after the well had been dug, I found that stick put the dime back in the split, and spent many an hour walking around carrying it in front of me, waiting and expecting something to happen, which it never did.
I remember when the guy was leaving Dad tried to pay him and he said, “That coffee was more than pay enough” Then, saying, “Good luck with your well,” he walked to his car, got in, and left.
I later learned that his name was John Hanley.