In my distant memory I can remember my pepaw telling one of my uncles to “go run the TV line.” My mom told me that her brother, Bud, used to have to “run the line” as well. Here is what that means.
Back in the 50′s and 60′s and even the early 70′s the only way to get television in the mountains of rural West Virginia was to run your own TV line from the TV to the top of the mountain behind your house. At the top of the mountain each family would have their own antenna. This responsibility usually fell to the oldest boy in the house.
These mountains are well known for being very steep and rugged and climbing to the top is never an easy task. It didn’t take much for the wind to knock a branch into TV line or a small animal to wreak havoc on it. No matter what the weather when the tv went out the boy would have to go out and run the line and fix the problem at whatever point on the mountain it had to be, otherwise the family would be without TV.
Sometimes on a windy day the boys would spend the day running the hills and fixing the line. What a way to build up stamina. No wonder kids weren’t fat back then!
I think my family had the second or third TV set in Logan County. There was one at the Smoke House and the Logan County Armory. We had a 12 inch Black and White RCA table model that was metal and must have weighed 100 lbs. To get a signal we ran two wires separated by a plastic chicken bone to a tower on top of the mountain across the river from Stratton St. We had two booster boxes mounted on trees on the mountain also. No antenna rotor but manually we would rotate the antenna and communicate with Army surplus walkie talkies. The picture usually was snowey. We thought it was great at the time. How times have changed.
This brings back memories. I used to tag along with my father when he’d check the TV line that ran up the mountain. When I was about six, we had a big snow and my Dad had to climb up the mountain to check the line. Because of the deep snow, I was told that I could not go with him this time. However, about five minutes after he left, I hurriedly slipped on my shoes and didn’t bother to put on socks or to lace up my shoes. As stealthy as possible, I followed him. My shoes immediately filled with snow and my feet started hurting because they were nearly frozen. When we reached the top, he saw me. I don’t remember his reaction but he had to carry me back down the mountain. What I remember most was how much my feet hurt when my parents put them in a tub of warm water.