Adam Sherrill’s Ride: From King’s Mountain to Boyd’s Creek

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In the chill December of 1780, in the midst of a three-pronged attack against the British-aligned Cherokees, Adam Sherrill’s horse suddenly stumbled on the frozen ground near Boyd’s Creek. The rider was thrown hard amid a sharp engagement with a Cherokee war party. Pain exploded through his chest as several ribs snapped. Before he could rise, a Cherokee warrior sprang upon him, tomahawk raised for the kill. In that frozen instant, a ball from a comrade’s rifle found its mark. The attacker fell. Adam, gasping, was pulled to safety by his fellow Overmountain Men. The wound would heal, but the memory of that narrow escape—and the hard service that preceded it—would stay with him for the rest of his long life.

Lying on the rough pallet as his ribs knit together in the weeks that followed, Adam Sherrill had time to think. Time to let his mind travel back across the mountains to the journey that had brought him and his family to this hard-won victory—and forward with worry about what lay ahead for those still in the field.

The pain in his side was sharp, yet it paled beside the fire of remembrance and the ache of concern. For Adam had marched not alone, but shoulder to shoulder with his brothers George and Samuel Jr., alongside their father Samuel Wilson Sherrill Sr., and with his brother-in-law Colonel John Sevier in one of the most remarkable campaigns of the Revolutionary War.

The Journey to King’s Mountain


By 1780, Adam Sherrill, born in 1758 on the Yadkin River country of North Carolina, had already put down roots in the Watauga settlements of what would become Washington County, Tennessee. Like his brother George, he had signed the Watauga Petition in 1776, declaring the mountain people’s desire for order and protection. His brother Samuel Jr. stood with them as well. In late September of that fateful year, the brothers—Adam, George, and Samuel Jr.—along with their father, rendezvoused with Colonel John Sevier’s regiment (their brother-in-law through sister Catherine “Bonny Kate” Sherrill) at Sycamore Shoals in Carter County. There, amid the crisp autumn air and the gathering of rugged frontier riflemen, the Overmountain Men prepared to cross the Blue Ridge. The family marched as a unit of resolve. The march itself was legendary: steep mountain trails, cold rains, dwindling rations, and the knowledge that they had left their own families exposed to Indian raids. Yet they pressed on, linking with other North Carolina militia before descending on King’s Mountain on October 7. There, on that rocky knob in South Carolina, the Overmountain Men unleashed a fierce, close-quarters battle. Adam, George, Samuel Jr., and their father fought in the thick of it under Sevier as Ferguson’s command disintegrated. When the smoke cleared, Ferguson lay dead, more than 700 of his men were captured or killed, and the tide of the Southern Campaign had turned. The victory at King’s Mountain would later be called the “turning point” that led to Yorktown. For the Sherrill brothers and their father, it was simply the day they stood with kin and neighbors to help save the frontier. After the battle, they marched the prisoners up to near Gilbert’s Town in North Carolina, then on to Morganton in Burke County, before returning home. These were just a couple of the many hard engagements fought to carve out the frontier they would call home.

Return to Boyd’s Creek, Recovery, and Concern


As Adam’s ribs slowly mended after Boyd’s Creek, he could take satisfaction in the broader campaign that secured the western settlements. Yet a fresh worry gnawed at him. Still sidelined by his injuries, he could not join the continued march south with George, his brother-in-law John Sevier, and the other friends and family who pressed onward. Reinforced by Virginia troops under Colonel Arthur Campbell, they crossed the Tennessee River toward Hiwassee, destroying Cherokee towns in a punishing expedition that lasted into the new year. Adam’s concern for their safety weighed heavily during his recovery—another chapter in the family’s shared sacrifice on the volatile frontier.

Closing Reflection


Adam Sherrill would go on to marry his second wife Rebecca Kilgore in Washington County in 1789 (daughter of one of the five Kilgores of Kings Mountain), raise a family, and eventually settle at the Head of Sequatchie (Gravelly Spur area) in what became Cumberland County, Tennessee. His brother George would later recount their shared service in a pension application, preserving the memory of the Carter County rendezvous, the march to King’s Mountain, and the hard fighting that followed. Their father Samuel’s quiet participation and Samuel Jr.’s steadfast presence added further layers of family resolve. Adam died in 1827.

He left no pension application of his own, yet his service—marked by the triumph at King’s Mountain, the near-fatal moment at Boyd’s Creek, and the anxious wait while loved ones marched to Hiwassee—lives on in the stories passed down through his descendants.

In the quiet moments of recovery on that winter pallet, Adam understood what many patriots felt: the Revolution was not won in grand declarations alone, but in broken ribs, long mountain marches, rifle shots that saved a brother’s life, and the quiet worry of those left behind.

Adam Sherrill is the maternal fourth great grandfather of the author. You can learn more about his descendants in the books of Randall Franks in our store, such as A Mountain Pearl.

A Harley, Ice Cream Cones, and Lessons for a Lifetime

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One never knows from where your positive influences in life might come.

When I was an overweight teen on my first real job at the Dairy Queen, a man rode into my life on a black Harley Davidson to take a job as store manager. He would widen my perspective on the world.

Ed Cross fit all the stereotypes a young teen might associate with a biker in the 1970s: long hair, wearing black leather, and hanging out with other biker friends.

All I had seen of bikers in my life to that point were film depictions, which left some initial fears and concerns about what to expect. Ed changed all those early misconceptions for me. He was a hardworking, caring individual whose laughter and jokes filled the hours of our work environment with a positive spirit.

His strength—which carried an air of fear associated with it—kept a bunch of male and female teenagers, as well as adults, in line while keeping food going out the windows from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. daily.

Ed taught me business tools which I have used throughout my life—doing product inventories, placing warehouse orders, counting cash register tills, and making deposits. I watched and assisted him in fixing equipment of all kinds to help us keep operating.

I saw him work double shifts when others were not available. I watched him reach out to help young people among our staff who were going through a tough time in their lives and who felt they could not turn to anyone else.

Whenever my days at the Dairy Queen come to mind, it brings back memories of all the laughs, all the lessons learned, and the hours spent together making an honest living.

Without Ed, my early music career would never have flourished. Because of him and our store owner Joe Wyche, I seldom worked a Friday or Saturday, allowing me the opportunity to tour and appear around the country while keeping a steady income.

I think, at least I hope, Ed knew all the difference he made in the lives of us Dairy Queen kids. If there is someone who has made a difference in your life, I hope you will take the time to share with them the impact they had.

Read more of Randall’s writings in his books. Find them in the Store or on Amazon.

Animals are Christians too — aren’t they?

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When there was no place among people for Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, the animals made room for the birth of Jesus in a stable. Donkeys and horses were probably among the first to look upon the Son of God.
Isn’t it only appropriate that there be a place for them in the Kingdom of God?
I am reminded of an old farmer, Jebadiah Cross, who had worked his fields side by side with his old gray mule named Flossie for many years. When Flossie died, he called the Presbyterian preacher to come and do the funeral for his Flossie. Upon arrival, the elderly preacher stepped down from the buggy, dusted his long black overcoat, and straightened his black stovepipe hat. He prepared himself for comforting the family. He was shocked when Jebadiah led him to the barn and he discovered the dearly departed Flossie was only a mule.
He clapped that hat back on his head, said there was no way he would ever preside over a service for a mule, and high-tailed it toward his carriage.
So Jebadiah called on the new Methodist minister—just in his twenties, fresh from seminary. This was to be his first funeral. Nervously, the young man came out to visit. After discovering that Flossie was not a member of the family, he swallowed hard and broke the news that he could not do it because he was worried about how his new congregation might react.
Finally, he called a Baptist pastor. The pastor arrived in a Ford Model T. It gave a little sigh of relief when the middle-aged, well-fed preacher stepped to the ground. Again, Jebadiah led the clergy through the house and back into the barn where Flossie lay in state. The Baptist studied the situation, scratched his chin, and concurred with his fellow clergymen that he couldn’t lead a funeral service for a mule.
As the pastor headed for the barn door, Jebadiah looked down at his faithful companion, stroked her mane and said, “Well, Flossie, I guess I’ll just have to keep that $10 for the preacher.”
The Baptist pastor turned and said, “You should have told me Flossie was a Baptist.”Animals are sometimes better friends than most folks are.
Cats, dogs, fish and birds can all make differences in our lives. Some folks are cat people—I am not a cat person. Not that I have anything against them. It is just when I am around them I sneeze, itch, scratch, turn blue and eventually die. But if there is a cat anywhere to be found, nine chances out of ten it’s rubbing up against my leg like I’m its long-lost kin.
When I look at a potential date, one of my first questions is: “Do you like pets?” If they have a dog, I know that I am safe—well sort of. Some of them can leave a permanent impression. I have one of those on my right leg. Boy, old Bugar sure could bite. Ever since I was a little boy, I have been a dog person. You can do so much more with a dog. What can cats do anyway? They lay around the house and eat. That is a man’s job isn’t it? Might explain why so many women have cats instead of men. Most women probably want only one animal laying around the house anyway; at least cats don’t talk back.
But dogs, they can hunt, play Frisbee, scare off bad guys. I remember one of my first dogs when I was little, Brutis. I couldn’t have been more than three-feet tall. He was six feet tall if he was an inch—and I’m not stretching the truth one bit. He could stand on his hind legs and look my dad in his eyes. Often my dad would say after supper, “Why don’t you go out and play with Brutis.”
Play with Brutis? That dog played with me. I was like a big, squeaky toy for him. He had this little game he would play—let’s see how many times we can knock Randall to the ground. He was a good trainer; eventually I learned how to play dead. I will say this: Brutis was a cultured dog. He had the finest taste in clothing. One time he felt that I was not dressed quite right, he held me down and tore every stitch of clothes off me.
I think it was his way of saying, “My mommy dresses me funny.”
My mother did not care for his fashion advice and he was soon on his way to destination unknown. I sort of envision him on the defensive line of the Bulldogs. He sure knew how to tackle. So yes, I reckon animals are Christians too—or at least good enough Baptists to get into Heaven.
And if they’re not, well… I hope the Good Lord has a big enough barn and a preacher who’ll take the ten dollars. Because a life without dogs like Brutis—and mules like Flossie—just wouldn’t be half as much fun.
From the comedy story “Animals are Christians Too — Aren’t They?” by Randall Franks, used by permission of Peach Picked Publishing. Read more stories in Randall’s books available in our Store.

Wake Me, I’m Dreaming

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Some nights the line between dream and reality feels thinner than the sheet on my bed.
When I was a child, I was taught not to tell anyone what I had dreamed until after breakfast. I never understood the reason for that warning, but I have followed it all my life — at least on the mornings I could remember my dreams at all.
Sometimes they hover just beneath the surface, right on the tip of my tongue. Other times they sink deep into my subconscious, muddled and lost forever. For some dreams, that may be a mercy.
I still carry one vivid childhood dream I never speak about. In it, I experienced my own death up close and personal. I woke in tears, ran to my parents with my heart pounding as if the event had truly happened. Of course, my childhood was also filled with the classic falling dreams — those endless descents where you never quite hit bottom and always wake just before you do. I had always heard that if you ever did hit bottom, you wouldn’t wake up.
As I moved into my teen years and young adulthood, my dreams changed. They became guides. Often they were remarkably detailed, placing me in places I had never been, among people I did not know, and then quietly showing me exactly where I was supposed to go. The experience felt almost like a video game — years before video games were common.
What amazed me most was that, days or weeks later, I would find myself standing in the exact setting I had dreamed, surrounded by the same people. Suddenly I knew what to do, whom to see, and why the dream had come in the first place. It was as if heaven had given me a dress rehearsal for my own life.
I realized God was using my sleep to prepare me — showing me where He wanted me to go, whom He wanted me to meet, and what He wanted me to pursue. Through that guidance my early years seemed to flourish. There were times, however, when I failed to follow the map: either because I couldn’t remember the dream clearly or, more often, because of sheer foolishness — insisting on my own will instead of letting God’s plan unfold.
You might say this is all a bunch of malarkey. If you haven’t lived it, I suppose it’s hard to believe. But I am convinced God communicates with us in many ways, and for a season He chose my dreams.
Eventually those guidance dreams faded. Perhaps I had reached the place He intended, or perhaps I had strayed so far that the coached path was no longer open to me. I still miss those days. Life was often a struggle, yet I felt I knew where I was going.
That certainty was far better than the uncertainty that has marked so much of the path I walk now. A few times since, I have experienced something similar — that sudden, powerful sense of déjà vu, the feeling that I have been exactly here before, doing and seeing precisely this. I have always taken it as quiet reassurance that I am where I am supposed to be.
As the years passed, my dreams grew gentler. They became dreams of comfort, carrying me back to the past or forward into some possible future, but almost always returning me to my childhood home no matter how old I was in the dream. One recent dream left me especially baffled. There was no one I knew, no event being replayed, nothing familiar except the setting itself. Everything else was new ground. The only clear message I carried into waking was a feeling of being in a situation beyond my control, unable to help people who I sensed needed help.
Perhaps it was preparing me for something still ahead, something I cannot yet imagine.
I try to limit my time in the sleep world. I want to be fully awake for every moment of this life rather than spend it slumbering. Still, I cherish the nights when a dream carries me back to the past, forward to a possible future, or lets me steal a few precious minutes with loved ones who are no longer here. When I wake from those visits, I always thank God for the gift.
Maybe that’s why I sometimes whisper, even now, “Wake me — I’m dreaming.” Not because the dream is bad, but because it feels so real and so full of grace.
Dreaming, like life itself, has its dark sides. Yet overall my life has been enriched and blessed by what I have seen in that quiet, mysterious state between sleeping and waking.
I hope the same is true for you — that your nights bring pleasant dreams and your days bring happy moments, whether you are awake or asleep.
Read more Randall in his books found in our Store.

Well Side or Sick Side? The Waiting Room Divisions

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Some time ago, I found myself sitting in my doctor’s office for a routine annual test. It was the first time I noticed that the waiting room had been divided into two sections: one clearly marked “Well Side” and the other “Sick Side.”
I figured I belonged on the Well Side. But before long, I noticed someone else in my section coughing persistently. I’m sure the new division is meant to limit the spread of germs. Still, since everyone is breathing the same air in the same room, I wonder how effective it really is.
Why, after all, do healthy people go to the doctor? I like my doctor, but I don’t just drop in because I think he might be lonely and then pay for the privilege of keeping him company.I also couldn’t help wondering whether this well/sick division might eventually spark a class-action lawsuit. Perhaps one group will claim discrimination because they can’t see the TV as well as the other, or because the “well” patients have to walk farther to reach the bathroom.
Maybe the Census Bureau will soon add two new categories to divide us by: sick and well. Politicians might then begin courting favor with each group, offering targeted benefits to win their votes.
As I sat there pondering these two emerging political powers, a bigger question occurred to me: What should the real criteria for membership be?I was on the Well Side because I was there for an annual checkup. But I get that checkup to make sure my medication isn’t making me sick. And I take medication because I’m not entirely well. So technically, I don’t qualify for the Well Side—otherwise, I wouldn’t need the meds in the first place.
That realization suggested I should move to the Sick Side. But then those patients might give me something, so I refused to acknowledge that I belonged there either.In reality, all of us in that waiting room must be sick in some way, or we wouldn’t be there at all. Perhaps the signs should simply read “Somewhat Sick Side” and “Sicker Side.” At least that way, we’d all be in this together.
Considering the deep divisions currently facing our country—divisions that seem constantly widened by the media and politicized by elected officials—maybe creating even more groups isn’t the wisest path forward.
Perhaps the better approach is to eliminate unnecessary divisions, promote better understanding, foster genuine cooperation, and work together so that everyone is along for the ride. Ultimately, whether we are well or sick, old or young, rich or poor, one color or another, one religion or another, one political party or another, or one ethnicity or another, we must remember this: Within the borders of the United States of America, our goal is to be one people—Americans. The divisions we choose to align with, or into which we are born, must never prevent us from achieving that.
Read more from Randall by getting one of his books in the Randall Frank’s Store.

Cast into Memory: Reflections on a Fishing Trip

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Ripples float endlessly across the lake as a large frog croaks in the distance.
The line running from the end of my pole drifts slightly with the light current, pulling away to my left as the red-and-white float bobs along with the ripples.

Much of my first fishing adventure had been spent simply trying to get the worm-baited hook into the water. My childhood attempts at fishing with my dad, especially early on, often mirrored the classic episode of The Andy Griffith Show in which Howard Sprague spends more time with his hook caught in a tree—or his own pants—than in the water.

In retrospect, my dad’s patience as he taught me the basics and answered my endless questions was remarkable: Why do fish eat worms? Why do we have to put the hook through the worm—can’t we just throw them in and let the fish eat them? Why do we need a float on the line? And why do I seem to do better when I cast the line behind me instead of in front?

These are just a few of the questions I still remember.My father was a lot like me—outdoor sports weren’t really his thing. Yet he believed it was important for me to learn them, and more importantly, for us to share the experiences he had once enjoyed with his own father and uncles. In the midst of those simple lessons, deeper truths were quietly passed along.

The bonds created between a father and son through positive shared experiences; a growing respect for the natural world and the people and creatures who share it with us; and a clearer understanding of what is expected of you when you become a man.

I am so grateful he took that time with me. Often, those moments seemed strategically placed around the toughest points in my life, when I needed his input, his lessons, his hope, and his insights the most.

By establishing that groundwork when I was young, our relationship had a smoother path as the years passed. Even as an older teen, when I began testing the boundaries by asserting my own authority, we were able to work through those tense moments. What could have driven us apart instead became teachable experiences that strengthened our bond.

Perhaps my father’s early passing forever set my perspective of our relationship in the warm nostalgia of youth. We never quite reached the “best friends” stage that often develops between fathers and adult sons, because he was still very much in the role of dad. That role would never have fully ended, of course, but after college, as I took on more responsibility for my own life, I had hoped our conversations could have taken on a different, more equal form.

It is this time of year when my father’s memory feels closest. We shared so much during the warm months of the year. I am thankful that God placed me in a family with two parents who were present and actively involved. So many young people do not have that blessing. As the news of the world seeps into my awareness, I can’t help but wonder how many troubling headlines might have been prevented if more mothers and fathers had been present and participating in their children’s lives.

Are you present in your children’s lives? Are you teaching them the lessons they need? Do they show respect for other people, and creatures? If not, may I suggest a fishing trip?

There is something iconic and idyllic about those opening shots of The Andy Griffith Show, with Andy and Opie Taylor walking along a country road, fishing poles over their shoulders. Funny how so many of us still long for that kind of simplicity. We may never fully reclaim it, but it never hurts to take the walk.“So, take down your fishin’ pole.”

Find more stories from Randall in his books in our STORE.

A Narrow Escape from the Battle of Wyoming

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Retreating on foot through the smoke and chaos, young Sergeant Giles Parman pulled his musket close and slipped into an overgrown thicket, using a fallen oak log as cover. Three Iroquois warriors passed within yards of him, their war cries echoing as they hunted stragglers. That desperate moment of survival would haunt him for the rest of his life.

One of the greatest motivating forces in wartime is the stories of fellow countrymen who suffer at the hands of the enemy. My 6th great-grandparents, Giles and Elizabeth Parman, lived such a story—one deeply interwoven with one of the Revolutionary War’s most devastating frontier defeats.

The Battle of Wyoming, also known as the Wyoming Massacre, occurred on July 3, 1778. What began as a military engagement soon became a sensationalized horror that spread across the colonies, fueling outrage and patriotic resolve.

Giles Franklin Parman Sr. (SAR Patriot # P-265930), born in 1758 in the Wyoming Valley, and his wife Elizabeth Penn were raising two young children on their roughly 100-acre homestead in the Plymouth District. At the time, this area was part of Northampton County, Pennsylvania (later Luzerne County). The Wyoming Valley itself formed a fertile, canoe-shaped corridor stretching 20 to 25 miles along the North Branch of the Susquehanna River and measuring about 3 to 6 miles wide between the flanking Appalachian mountain ridges.

Word of the invading force spread rapidly through the valley’s tight-knit farming communities. A mixed army of British-allied Loyalist Rangers—about 110 men under Major John Butler—and roughly 460–600 Iroquois warriors, primarily Seneca led by chiefs Sayenqueraghta (Old Smoke) and Cornplanter, had entered the northern valley around June 30–July 1. They quickly overran smaller outposts, destroying farms, running off livestock, and killing or capturing some residents in the prelude to the main assault.

At about age 19–20, Giles was already serving in the Pennsylvania militia, which required all able-bodied men aged 18–53 to answer the call. As a sergeant in the Northampton County Militia, he likely led a small squad of 10–20 local farmers. With his own homestead threatened and his young family at risk, he probably loaded Elizabeth and the children into a wagon and hurried them to the safety of Forty Fort (near modern Kingston/Wilkes-Barre), the main Patriot stronghold, before mustering with his men.

Inside Forty Fort, a heated debate raged among the roughly 375 Patriot defenders (five companies of militia plus a small Continental detachment). Lieutenant Colonel Zebulon Butler, a Continental officer home on furlough, and Colonel Nathan Denison urged caution, advising the men to remain behind the stockade and await reinforcements. Hot-headed subordinates, including Captain Lazarus Stewart, demanded an immediate offensive to protect homes and families. The majority voted to march out.

On the hot afternoon of July 3, the Patriot force—accompanied by fife and drum playing “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning”—advanced northward from Forty Fort to open ground near Kingston. Giles and his men joined the formation as the Patriots established a battle line and initially pushed back the Loyalist Rangers with disciplined volleys. The crack of musket fire filled the air, but the line’s terrifying collapse soon became apparent amid smoke and screams as the right flank gave way under the hidden assault by Iroquois warriors.

Giles and his squad were suddenly inundated by war cries and a galling fire that shattered the Patriot line. The battle turned into a chaotic rout within 30–45 minutes. Panic spread as men fled toward the river, woods, or forts. Historical estimates place Patriot deaths at 160–300 or more in the fighting and immediate pursuit, with many scalped or killed while trying to escape. Loyalist and Iroquois losses remained light.

Giles survived the battle and made a desperate way back toward his family, with pursuers close behind. The scene around him was one of horror—neighbors cut down, the valley’s defenders broken in what colonists quickly called a “massacre.”

The exact path Giles and his young family took in the immediate aftermath has been lost to time. Did they remain sheltered in Forty Fort? Or did they risk returning briefly to their Plymouth District homestead to salvage what they could?

On July 4, Colonel Denison surrendered the fort under terms negotiated with Major Butler: the defenders would not take up arms again, and private property would ostensibly be respected. Family accounts and lore suggest Giles continued fighting for a total of about seven years in militia service (a figure repeated alongside his friend Michael Girdner), so he may not have been present for the formal surrender—allowing him to keep defending the region without strictly honoring the agreement.

Despite the capitulation, discipline among some Iroquois warriors broke. In the hours and days that followed, scattered killings, plundering, and burnings occurred across the valley. Homes and farms were looted and torched; livestock was driven off. While Major Butler largely restrained his white troops and claimed no non-combatants were harmed, the frontier reality included real brutality and revenge—motivated in part by earlier Patriot raids on Iroquois villages. Exaggerated tales of atrocities (including stories of the debated “Bloody Rock”) spread rapidly through colonial newspapers, inflaming public fury and helping inspire the 1779 Sullivan Expedition against the Iroquois.

Giles and Elizabeth helped bury and mourn neighbors and friends. They endured the “Great Runaway”—the desperate flight of hundreds of women, children, and elderly into the mountains and swamps, where many perished from exposure. Giles continued militia duties protecting the frontier through much of the remaining war, a common pattern for Northampton County men focused on local defense rather than distant Continental campaigns.

After the war, the family remained in Pennsylvania for a time. Giles sold and migrated westward around 1792–1793 to Greene County, Tennessee, settling along the Nolichucky River. There he served as a justice of the peace, road overseer, election inspector, and helped found the Flat Branch/New Providence Baptist Church in 1803. Elizabeth died before January 10, 1799. Giles then remarried Phoebe (Gilbert) Woolsey. Across both marriages, he raised roughly 11–12 children. Later, the family moved to Knox County, Kentucky (near modern Corbin), where Giles received a land grant, built a plantation on the Cumberland River, and raised horses. He died there in 1832.

Giles represents the archetypal Revolutionary frontier Patriot: an ordinary young farmer and family man thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Unlike officers or Continental soldiers in major eastern battles, he and thousands like him in the Pennsylvania and New York back country fought a grinding, personal war of home defense against raids that blurred the lines between military action and civilian terror. His survival at Wyoming, continued service, and subsequent life as a community leader and westward migrant embody the Revolutionary promise—defending liberty on the edge of settlement, then helping build new communities in Tennessee and Kentucky as the nation expanded. Giles’s life mirrors the resilience of countless unsung Patriots who paid the price for the freedoms that followed.

Read more of Randall’s writings in his others books found at Randall Franks Store .

Randall Franks’s A Zippedy Doodle Day : Down Yonder Too

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A Zippedy Doodle Day : American Folk Songs

Down Yonder Too

A Skillet Licker Centennial

The FIRST SINGLE RELEASE 

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Press Release

Randall Franks Unveils Centennial Single “Down Yonder Too” from Upcoming Album ‘A Zippedy Doodle Day: American Folk Songs’

Historic Track Pairs Georgia’s Legendary Fiddle Bands with Star-Studded Guests to Celebrate 100 Years of The Skillet Lickers

“Down Yonder Too” Features Dom Flemons, Jim Lauderdale, Ketch Secor, and Paul Puckett

Award-winning bluegrass and Americana artist, actor, and producer Randall Franks announces the release of the new single, “Down Yonder Too,” the debut track from the forthcoming charity album A Zippedy Doodle Day: American Folk Songs. The single commemorates the 100th anniversary of The Skillet Lickers, Georgia’s pioneering fiddle band formed in 1926, while honoring the legacy of Doodle and the Golden River Grass, widely recognized as one of the last traditional fiddle bands of country music’s early era.

Founded by Gid Tanner and Riley Puckett, The Skillet Lickers’ legacy continues through the Tanner family, carried on today by third-generation member Phil Tanner and his son, fourth-generation member Russ Tanner, while a fresh interpretation of the multi-million-selling classic “Down Yonder” blends archival elements with contemporary performances, creating a vibrant collaboration that bridges generations of Appalachian music.

The track features an all-star lineup including Dom Flemons, Jim Lauderdale, Ketch Secor, and Paul Puckett, alongside Franks, and layered with fiddle, harmonica, banjo, jug, and rich vocal performances, “Down Yonder Too” honors traditional string band roots while bringing renewed energy to a timeless sound.

To view the video for “Down Yonder Too,” scroll to the bottom of the page.

“This project is about preserving the soul of Appalachian music and ensuring its future,” said Franks. “By uniting The Skillet Lickers’ groundbreaking spirit with Doodle’s infectious energy and these incredible guests, we’re celebrating 100 years of innovation in string band traditions. It’s ‘A Zippedy Doodle Day’ indeed—full of joy, history, and collaboration.”

The single also highlights the album’s broader mission to honor John “Doodle” Thrower (1929–1994) and his band, James Watson, Gene Daniell, Wesley Clackum, and Randall Franks, known for their spirited performances, humor, and appearances at major events including the 1982 World’s Fair, National Folk Festivals, and PBS specials. Proceeds from the album and its accompanying documentary will benefit the Share America Foundation, providing scholarships for aspiring Appalachian musicians, as well as the West Georgia Museum for historical preservation.

The full album features a wide range of contributors including Bruce Boxleitner, Gena Britt, Wyatt Ellis, Daniel Grindstaff, Marty Hays, Dale Houston, The Marksmen, Alex Miller, Lee Newton, Kody Norris, Ronnie & Justin Reno, Ralph Stanley II, Larry Stephenson, Derek Stone, Leroy Troy, and more, all donating their talents to support this charitable endeavor.

In celebration of the release, Franks and the Share America Foundation are launching the 5,000 Download Challenge, inviting fans to help fund Appalachian music scholarships by supporting the single on digital platforms.

An accompanying documentary, directed by Franks, will further explore the legacy of Doodle and the Golden River Grass through archival footage, interviews, and performances.

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“Down Yonder Too” is available to radio on AirPlay Direct at https://app.airplaydirect.com/music/RandallFranksAZippedyDoodleDay/.

 

THE SINGLE

About the history of Down Yonder

The uniqueness of the American Folk Songbook lies in its ability to incorporate tunes from every facet of the American experience and re-imagine them into new settings where the songs seem to have always been there. “Down Yonder” was a tune that permeated from fiddler to fiddler and musician to musician, starting as vaudeville number penned by Tin Pan Alley songwriter L. Wolfe Gilbert. It was introduced in 1921 at the Orpheum Theater in New Orleans and recorded early on with vocals by the Peerless Quartet and Ernest Hare & Billy Jones. It became an instrumental staple in the early fiddle bands of Appalachia and the South, such as the Scottdale String Band and Gid Tanner & His Skillet Lickers. Gordon Tanner’s 1934 performance with his father Gid and the Skillet Lickers became a million-seller, earning gold disc status and cementing the tune’s place in country music history. Ragtime pianist Del Wood gave it a newfound audience in 1951; her lively honky-tonk instrumental spent 25 weeks on the Billboard pop charts, peaking at #4, and sold over a million copies, earning her widespread fame and a long-running spot on the Grand Ole Opry. Bluegrass, folk, and country musicians continue to foster the tune, sharing it in recordings, jam sessions, and concerts to this day. Adding to its rich story for the Skillet Lickers Centennial, a fresh chapter unfolds with “Down Yonder Too”—a new version by Doodle and the Golden River Grass featuring The Skillet Lickers (with Paul Puckett), Dom Flemons, Randall Franks, Jim Lauderdale, and Ketch Secor. This collaborative recording includes brand-new lyrics penned by Franks and performed by Randall and Jim, blending the tune’s timeless spirit with contemporary voices to honor the legacy while raising funds for Appalachian music scholarships through the charity album A Zippedy Doodle Day : American Folk Songs.

01) – Doodle and the Golden River Grass & Randall Franks – Down Yonder Too (4:22)

Featuring The Skillet Lickers with Paul Puckett, Dom Flemons, Jim Lauderdale, and Ketch Secor

Share America Foundation, Inc. – Crimson Records

Featured Perfomers:

The Skillet Lickers : Vocals,

(Phil Tanner – Guitar and Russ Tanner – Fiddle)

Dom Flemons : Jug

Randall Franks : Vocals, Fiddle

Jim Lauderdale : Vocals

Paul Puckett : Guitar

Ketch Secor : Fiddle

Doodle and the Golden River Grass:

Doodle Thrower: Harmonica and Vocals

James Watson: Clawhammer Banjo

Gene Daniell: Acoustic Bass

Wesley Clackum: Acoustic Guitar and Vocals

Randall Franks: Fiddle

About Doodle and the Golden River Grass

Doodle and the Golden River Grass was an Appalachian folk and fiddle band formed in 1963 in Tallapoosa, Georgia, celebrated for their upbeat square dance tunes, comedy, and appearances at events like the 1982 World’s Fair and PBS specials. Led by John “Doodle” Thrower (1929-1994) on harmonica, the band featured members such as James Watson (1935-2017) on clawhammer banjo, C.J. Clackum on guitar, Wesley Clackum on guitar and mandolin, Gene Daniell on bass, Lynn Elliott on guitar, Steve Hesterlee on banjo, and fiddlers including Seals Hicks, Bill Kee, Paul Wallace, Jerry Wesley, and Randall Franks.

Their music was released on 17 albums and were described by folklorist Alan Lomax as “mountain music in overdrive,” preserving Georgia’s fiddle band tradition. No dedicated website exists, but they are featured extensively on www.randallfranks.com/A-Zippedy-Doodle-Day/ .

About Randall Franks

Randall Franks is an award-winning bluegrass, Americana, and country musician, fiddler, actor, and philanthropist best known for his role as Officer Randy Goode on the TV series In the Heat of the Night. With a career spanning over 48 years, he has released 26 albums, and been inducted into multiple music halls of fame and is honored as an International Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame and Museum Legend. Franks is dedicated to preserving Appalachian musical heritage through his work with the Share America Foundation, supporting scholarships for young musicians. Website: www.randallfranks.com.

About The Skillet Lickers

The Skillet Lickers are a groundbreaking old-time string band formed in 1926 in Georgia, renowned for their energetic recordings and influence on early country music, including hits like “Down Yonder.” The original 1926 members included Gid Tanner (fiddle and vocals), Riley Puckett (guitar and vocals), Clayton McMichen (fiddle), and Fate Norris (banjo and harmonica), with later additions such as Bert Layne (fiddle), Lowe Stokes (fiddle), and Ted Hawkins (mandolin). The band’s legacy spans generations, and current members include Phil Tanner, Russ Tanner (both fiddlers and descendants of Gid Tanner), Joel Aderhold, Brian Stephens, and Brian Morgan who continue performing traditional string band music. The group is planning many special events marking its Centennial Year.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/skilletlickers

 

Phil Tanner (Third Generation Skillet Licker, grandson of Gid Tanner)

Phil Tanner

“I think there were a lot of the same qualities in both bands – The Skillet Lickers and Doodle and the Golden River Grass. A lot of rambunctious, joyful music that wanted to make people want to dance and laugh and have a good time. One thing I remember about Doodle is he gave a lot of recognition to my grandfather – Gid. He said he was a big influence on his style. It may have been because my grandfather was a comedian more or less – an entertainer. Doodle was just that. He was an entertainer.”

Russ Tanner

Russ Tanner (Fourth Generation Skillet Licker, whose grandfather Gordon fiddled Down Yonder on the multi million seller from 1934)

“What made (The Skillet Lickers) stand out is a lot of times you had two, maybe three fiddles in there. They just had a different approach from a lot of folks you listened to. With two or three fiddles, they played pretty free and wild and open. You got the impression they were all around the mic having a great time. They really were.”

 

 

About Dom Flemons

Dom Flemons, dubbed “The American Songster,” is a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, and music historian specializing in old-time folk, Piedmont blues, and African-American musical traditions, with expertise on banjo, guitar, harmonica, bones, quills, and more. A founding member of the Grammy-winning Carolina Chocolate Drops, he has released solo albums like Black Cowboys (a Smithsonian artifact) and earned multiple Grammy and Emmy nominations for his scholarly and performative work preserving American roots music.

Flemons is also an actor, podcaster, and slam poet. Website: www.theamericansongster.com.

Dom Flemons (GRAMMY Winner)

“When playing “Down Yonder” I decided to add the sound of the stone mason jug to

Dom Flemons

the occasion. While at times it has been seen as a novelty, the jug draws upon a vibrant tradition that spans from the early African American jug bands that emerged in the early 20th going up the Mississippi River from Memphis and Kentucky up to Cincinnati, Illinois and Iowa to numerous mountain music and country and western groups from all over the South. Jug bands have also survived up to the present through the jug bands of the sixties who would take it into the rock ‘n’ roll era and beyond. A tune like “Down Yonder” gives plenty of space for the sound the jug to “fall in” and join the free form polyphonic syncopation and improvisation that defines the type of string band music that folks have loved for generations. When I heard Phil Tanner of the Skillet Lickers say, “Let’s Go Down Yonder”, I dug in my heels and let ‘er go. Thanks so much to Randall Franks for having me be a part of those wonderful and I hope everyone will enjoy the good cheer created by Doodle and the band! “

About Jim Lauderdale

Jim Lauderdale is a prolific Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and musician in country, bluegrass, and Americana, with over 31 studio albums released since 1986 and songwriting credits for artists like George Strait and Patty Loveless. Born in North Carolina, he has been a key figure in the Americana music scene, hosting the Americana Music Awards and blending roots influences in his work. Lauderdale’s career highlights include collaborations across genres and a reputation as “Mr. Americana.” Website: www.jimlauderdalemusic.com.

Jim Lauderdale (Two-time GRAMMY Winner)

Jim Lauderdale

Jim Lauderdale said he was really impressed by the music of Doodle and the Golden River Grass and the unique harmonica stylings of Doodle – “It is really hard to play that single note harmonica style and Doodle could really Ace it.”

“This old timey style is really going back to the roots. I guess first popularized on the Bristol sessions and today it still influences so many people,” Jim Lauderdale said. “You can see where bluegrass came from which led to so many other things. It’s a real honor to be part of this project. This kind of music needs to stay out there – vibrant and alive and I think this is going to help that.”

About Paul Puckett

Paul Puckett is a country musician who performed on banjo and guitar beginning in the late 1960s. Paul Puckett and the Dixie Blues opened for artists such as Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty, Jerry Lee Lewis. Merle Haggard, Roy Drusky, the Osborne Brothers, and Hank Williams, Jr. While serving in the U.S. Army, Paul and his wife Joni Puckett performed on the Ed Sullivan Show Armed Forces Music Festival with Roy Clark and Jeannie C. Riley, and made appearances with Country Gentlemen and others.

He found success with his band for many years in hotels and restaurants in

Virginia, Washington, D.C., Maryland and Georgia, often partnering with his wife and talents such as Speedy Price. Oftentimes his shows included regular celebrity attendees such as

actors Robert Goulet, Ken Berry, Donald O’Connor, athlete Pete Rose and producer Hal Needham.

Musician Jack Eubanks produced his 1974 album “Riders in the Sky” on TAD Records including musicians Willie Rainsford, Leo Jackson and D.J. Fontana. Paul is recognized for his contributions to the genre and was inducted into the Atlanta Country Music Hall of Fame in 2007. He performed on the initial Atlanta Country Hall of Fame Awards presenting Riley Puckett’s induction to his widow Blanche.

Paul Puckett (Country Singer)

Paul Puckett said growing up in Georgia as a musical Puckett always led to questions about Skillet Licker star Riley Puckett.

“Riley Puckett was one of the very early stars of country music who started in 1922 on WSB radio, he said. “Riley, Gid Tanner, Fiddlin’ John Carson were some outstanding members of the music world. I have been interested in Georgia fiddle music ever since the early 1960s when bluegrass festivals were beginning in the South.”

He added one of his greatest honors was inducting Riley into the Atlanta Country Music Hall of Fame and presenting the honor to his widow – Blanche in 1982.

About Ketch Secor

Ketch Secor is a Grammy-winning singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist best known as the founder and front man of Old Crow Medicine Show since 1998, co-writing hits like the double-platinum “Wagon Wheel” and helping pioneer the Americana revival. His work spans high-energy performances blending folk, bluegrass, and country, and he is also a children’s author, music educator, and advocate for arts programs. Secor was inducted into the Grand Ole Opry with his band in 2013. Website: www.ketchsecor.com (band website: www.crowmedicine.com).

Ketch Secor

Ketch Secor of the Old Crow Medicine Show (Grand Ole Opry Star and GRAMMY Winner)

“I just love Georgia fiddle music. It’s the best especially those great fiddlers from The Skillet Lickers and all that great North Georgia long bow style. There’s nothing finer – old Gid Tanner, Fate Norris and all the rest.”

Songwriters: Randall Franks Publisher & PRO: Peach Picked Publishing/BMI

See The Video

On YouTube

On Rumble

 

About Share America Foundation, Inc.
The Share America Foundation, Inc., founded in 2006 by Randall Franks, is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving Appalachian musical heritage and supporting young artists through scholarships and educational programs. It’s board members include Chairman Gary Knowles, Vice Chairman John Brinsfield, Secretary James Pelt, Vice President Jerry Robinson, Sr. and President Randall Franks

For more, visit www.shareamericafoundation.org.

We will share details of other classic folk songs as each is completed. Stay tuned for updates on this growing American Songbook contribution at A Zippedy Doodle Day!

Thank you to 2911 Media and Scott Sexton for being a great part of this adventure in American Music

With their help these are some of the international outlets spreading the word that we’ve learned about:

No man is an island: The lasting effect of friends

/in /by

John Donne wrote, centuries ago, “No man is an island.”

Sometimes I catch myself living as though I were one anyway.

If we are lucky we surround ourselves with family, friends, and acquaintances. Yet how often do we truly belong to one another? Some of us seldom leave the self-imposed exile of our personal islands long enough to share a sunset, a walk on the beach, or the sight of a kite snapping in the sea breeze.

When I stand before the mirror, the man looking back at me is no longer the little boy who once stood there. I wonder: Did the choices I made widen his world, or did they simply add another layer of sand to the shoreline of his isolation? Have I built bridges to the mainland, or have I merely reinforced the water around me?

Life has a way of answering that question when we least expect it. A note arrives, a memory surfaces, a few words on a screen remind us that Donne was right: no matter how isolated we try to become, we remain part of the main.

Years ago the connections came by letter and long phone calls. Today our islands come equipped with an umbilical cord called the internet. I can scroll through the status updates of hundreds of “friends” without ever speaking to a soul. The illusion of connection is effortless — and sometimes genuinely helpful. Not long ago a childhood friend posted a simple message wishing to right some old, perceived wrongs and wipe the slate clean. In minutes we were talking again after decades of silence.

So the technology can build bridges. But it can also keep us staring at screens instead of looking into one another’s faces. We trade handshakes for heart emojis, shared laughter for shared posts. That is a tremendous loss.

In the end, friends — real, present, flesh-and-blood friends — are what pull us off our islands and onto the continent Donne described. Their lasting effect is not measured in likes or follows. It is measured in the simple, irreplaceable moments when we stand together on the same patch of sand, watching the same kite dance against the sky.

Read more from Randall Franks in his Encouragers book series.

Frankly Speaking : Thoughts on This and That

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ADVANCE ORDER TODAY!

SENDING IN MAY (LIKELY MAY 5)

Step onto a sunlit Southern porch and settle into a rocking chair overlooking misty Georgia mountains at golden sunrise.
In Frankly Speaking: Thoughts on This and That, Randall Franks — one of America’s favorite TV cops (“Officer Randy Goode” from In the Heat of the Night) and beloved country entertainer — shares warm, encouraging columns on life’s simple joys, fading traditions, family bonds, civility, faith, and modern wonders.
With Southern charm, gentle humor, and timeless wisdom drawn from his Appalachian roots and star-studded career, these reflective essays remind us to slow down, lift burdens, cherish memories, and find hope in the everyday. Beautifully illustrated and paired with inspiring scriptures, this collection is perfect for anyone seeking wholesome inspiration, nostalgia, and heartfelt encouragement.

The 204-page soft-cover includes 53 columns, 31 personal photos (many never seen before), 21 original Americana illustrations, and 31 Bible scriptures (KJV).

 

Order other books at Randall Franks Store 

Learn more about Randall’s writings at Author