Appalachia is the poorest and worst-off region of the United States, by far and away. The migrants brought with them this identity, and were stereotyped in their new homes, and made to feel as outsiders. Back in Appalachia, these individuals saw themselves differently from other people in their state, or in other parts of the South. But up north they were lumped together as southern white laborers, and eventually a group consciousness took hold. Migrants from all across Appalachia began to identity with each other and preferred to work alongside other Southerners, rather than Northerners. This seems to explain, to me at least, the interesting fact that everybody from my father's family, no matter who it was, seemed to have their roots in the South. My grandfather was from a little town in West Virginia, my aunt and uncle's dad was from Pemiscot County, Missouri, and my grandmother's 2nd husband was from Abingdon, Virginia. Many of their friends probably had roots in the South. And different people I've known in my life had lots of extended family from down South and in Appalachia. This is the long term ramification of the massive migration known as the Hillbilly Highway.
My great-grandparents, Luther Saddler Sr. and Mary Morris, definitely moved around a lot. My great-grandfather was born in Princeton, West Virginia, and my great-grandmother in Covesville, Virginia. In the 1940 Census, before the Hillbilly Highway mostly began, they were living in Beaver Pond, Mercer County, West Virginia, along with their son, my grandfather. I don't believe it was a very happy household, but that is lost to time. By 1942 they'd apparently moved to Bastian, Virginia as that is where Luther Saddler Sr. registered for the WWII Draft. However by 1947 we see that they've rode the highway- they are now living in Toledo, Ohio, according to the wedding announcement of their daughter Georgia. In 1951 they are still living in Toledo, according to the obituary of Mary's brother Eugene. Then by 1953 they'd apparently moved to Dayton, Ohio, probably to find different work than Luther Sr. had in Toledo. This was mentioned in the obituary of Mary's mother, Rebecca Hall, of Princeton, West Virginia. However, the couple later divorced, and it is unclear to me how this affected their living arrangements. By 1960, Mary was back in Princeton, West Virginia, according to the obituary of her brother Allen. Ten years later, she died there. Luther Sr., meanwhile, died in Toledo, in 1967. So I suspect that after they divorced, Luther stayed in Ohio for work, while Mary returned home to West Virginia to be with her family- family that I suspect my great-grandmother did not really treat well.
My paternal grandfather did not, I assume, have a happy childhood. I suspect this because of the general awareness I have of my great-grandparents behavior, as well as the fact that he supposedly left home as a young boy. He was arrested for stealing gin and throwing rocks at trains as well, showing that his life wasn't the greatest. He also rode the highway, but on a different path than his parents. In 1940, my grandfather was living with his young and pregnant wife (my aunt Sylvia, who was born in 1940, is not mentioned in the census with them) in the home of his parents, as well as his younger siblings Julia, 15, and James, 13. My grandfather and great-grandfather seem to have the same occupation listed, but it's hard to understand what's written. Interestingly, my grandfather was one of the people selected in the 1940 Census to provide additional information, and in that section, his usual occupation is listed as a common laborer for a rock quarry. Soon after the Census was taken, in 1943, my grandfather enlisted in the Army and served in World War II. After the war, he apparently returned to West Virginia, where he divorced his wife Helen in Princeton in 1947. In 1948 he remarried in Bland County, Virginia. In 1950, my uncle LIVING was born in Princeton. Sometime between then and 1957, he rode the highway, and made his way to Michigan. I would assume this was around 1955. My grandmother remembers that he drove a school bus and was a mechanic. His obituary states: "he had been employed as a mechanic by the Michigan Public Schools since 1945". Due to the above information, I believe this is a mistake, and they meant 1955. This would be consistent with a private family story about my grandfather and one of his children, which took place in Michigan and had to be around 1953-1954 (due to the sensitive nature of this story I do not feel it is appropriate to post it publicly, and people relevant are still living as well). In 1957, my grandfather was living in Michigan, at 233 W. Michigan Ave. in an unknown city, but possibly Battle Creek (the newspaper that mentioned this was the Battle Creek Enquirer). In 1959, he had a daughter born in Newark, Ohio, and in 1960, a daughter in Centreville, Michigan. In 1964 his fourth daughter with his wife Betty was born in Kalamazoo. My grandmother remembers that when she was dating him, he was working three jobs in Paw Paw and probably living in Kalamazoo, going through his divorce with his wife. In 1966, my father was born in St Joseph, and he died a year later at a veteran's hospital in North Carolina. My paternal grandfather, like his parents, rode the hillbilly highway, up from West Virginia into Michigan sometime in the early 1950s.
Many people with Appalachian ancestry and family ties seem ashamed of this fact. I have no reason to be. My ancestry has so many facets to it, and my Appalachian heritage is a source of pride, as I come from poor, illiterate miners and laborers in West Virginia, to what I am today. These people were not any less then the New England Puritans, Brussels Catholics, or Dutch Reformed Painters and Tailors on my mother's side. They were Appalachians, poor mountain folk of family and pride, and I am proud of my great-grandparents and my grandfather for riding the hillbilly highway and bringing their culture and values with them, and giving me a chance at life here in Michigan. To family! To Appalachia!
Remembering those who rode the Hillbilly Highway, commemorated by Steve Earle's song