The Witch of
Pine Barrens
(version one)
The Pine
Barrens once
had their
own particular
witch.
Pineys put salt
over their
doors to
discourage
visits from
the Witch of
the Pines,
Peggy
Clevenger.
It was known
that
she could
turn herself
into a
rabbit, for a dog
was once
seen chasing a
rabbit and
the rabbit
jumped through
the
window of a
house, and
there—in the
same instant,
in the
window—
stood Peggy
Clevenger.
On another
occasion, a
man saw a
lizard and
tried to
kill it by crushing it
with a large
rock. When the rock
hit the
lizard, the lizard
disappeared
and Peggy
Clevenger
materialized on
the spot and
smacked
the man in
the face.
Clevenger is
a Hessian name.
Peggy lived
in Pasadena,
another of
the now vanished
towns, about
five miles east of
Mt. Misery.
It was said
that she had
a stocking
full of
gold. Her remains
were found
one morning in
the smoking
ruins of
her cabin,
but there was no
trace of the
gold.
The Witch of
Pine Barrens
(version two)
It was said
that she had
a stocking
full of gold—
Peggy
Clevenger,
their
own
particular witch.
Over their
doors, they
put salt to
discourage
her visits.
A dog once
chased
a rabbit and
the rabbit
jumped
through the window
of a house.
And there Peggy
stood, in
the same
instant, in
the window.
It was known
that she
could turn herself
into a
rabbit.
A man saw a
lizard and
tried to
kill it, crushing
it with a
large rock. When
rock hit
lizard the
lizard
disappeared
And Peggy
materialized
and smacked
the man
in the face.
One morning
her
remains were
found
in the
smoking ruins of
her cabin—there
was no trace
of the
gold.
The Pickers
(version one)
We had come
to a clearing where thousands
of blueberry
bushes grew. In the center of it was
the packing
house—a small, low building with open
and
screenless windows on all sides. In front of it
was a school
bus marked “Farm Labor Transport.”
The driver
stood beside his bus. He was a tall and
amiable-looking
man, with bare feet. He wore
green
trousers and a T-shirt. The end of the
working day
had come. Pickers were
swarming
around a pump—old women, middle-aged
men, a young
girl. A line was waiting to use
and outhouse
near the pump.
Inside the
packing house, berries half an inch
thick were rolling
up a portable conveyor belt
and,
eventually, into pint boxes.
Charlie’s
sister was packing the boxes.
Charlie’s
daughter-in-law was putting cellophane over them.
And Charlie’s
son Jim was supervising the operation.
Charlie
picked up a pint box in which berries were
mounded
high, and he told me with disgust that
some
supermarket chains knock off these mounds
of extra
berries and put them in new boxes, getting
three of
four extra pints per twelve-box tray.
At one
window, pickers were turning in tickets
of various
colors, and they were given cash in
return. One
picker, who appeared to be at least
in his
sixties, tapped Charlie on the arm and showed
him a thick
pack of tickets held together with a rubber band.
“I found
these,” the man said. “They must
have fallen
out of your son’s pocket.” He gave
the packet
to Charlie, who thanked him and
counted the
tickets. Charlie said, “These tickets
are worth
seventy-five dollars.”
Getting
Tickets
(version two)
The packing
house—a small, low building with
open and
screenless windows on
all sides
stood in a clearing where
thousands of
blueberry bushed grew. In front was
a school bus
marked “Farm Labor Transport.”
The driver
stood beside his bus and pickers
were
swarming around a pump and
the end of
the working day had come.
Inside the
packing house, half-an-inch-thick
berries were
rolling up a conveyor belt and into
pint boxes,
and Charlie’s sister was packing the
boxes, and
Charlie’s daughter-in-law was putting
cellophane
over them, and Charlie’s son was
supervising
the operation.
Picking up a
pint box, berries mounded on
top, Charlie
told me that some supermarket chains
knock off
the mounds on top and put them in
new boxes
and get three or four extra pints, and
Charlie told
that me with disgust.
And one
picker at least in his sixties tapped
Charlie on
the arm and showed him a thick
packet of
tickets held together with a
rubber band
and the man said,
“I found
these.
They must
have fallen out of your son’s pocket,”
and he gave
the packet to Charlie, and
Charlie
thanked him and counted the tickets.
At one
window, pickers were turning in tickets of
various
colors, and they were given cash in return.
“These
tickets are worth seventy-five dollars,”
Charlie
said. Outside, a line was waiting to
use an
outhouse near the pump.
