It seems that as every Sunday comes around we are again sweltering in a never-ending heat wave rolling over our hometown where even the cool new moon offers little comfort.

For many boys of bygone days the river and field caves offered a secret, cool place for summer play. Sometimes it ended in accident, near tragedy, and in our story the death of Newport teen, Billy Gregg. You recall that retired judge Kenneth Porter was telling his memory of those events when he was about 12 years old. Billy accompanied Art Fisher Jr. and J.M. Poe to Rattlin' Cave located a couple hundred yards off Highway 25/70 but down the hillside from the current city water plant. Suddenly and accidentally, Billy fell into the deep cave.

Action began almost immediately to rescue the victim, and Ken said that Johnny Farmer at Stokely Brothers was head of personnel and took the lead on the rescue joined by Earl Rhodes, Robert Hickey, and many others. Farmer was an uncle to Ken's close friend, Bob Parrott. "He (Farmer) was fearless and ready to go down a rope," said Ken of Johnny, a big man over 6 feet tall and 200 pounds. Johnny went down one of at least two ropes dropped into the cave; one rope lowered a lantern so the body could be spotted on a ledge. Ken said something happened, perhaps a rope broke, but Johnny began to fall and grabbed the lantern rope. "He hit bottom but was not severely hurt." Rescuers tied a rope around Billy's body and pulled him out with help from Art Fisher Sr.'s big silver tow truck.

Betty Poe has been following our story and was married to J.M. Poe, who rarely spoke of the tragedy. He died several years ago. He did mention it in later years to Gene Branam that Billy fell quickly without making a cry or sound. J.M. told Betty, she said, that Billy "brushed him" as he lost his balance and fell in. J.M. was about 16 at the time and left with Art Jr. to get help. There is still one of the Poe brothers alive, if you knew the family. Bill Poe died young of cancer, followed by Tom Poe, former ambulance service director and great supporter of the Newport Rescue Squad. I recall him well and could tell you a few stories when he was county coroner in the 1970s. Bert Poe Jr., the oldest of the four boys, is still alive and lives on Long Island, NY. Betty said they grew up behind Lincoln Avenue Grocery off 7th Street, just a stone's throw from where Ken was born.

I learned more about the rescuers from Louise Taylor, who lives not far from the WNPC Radio offices and Hawkins Drive. As we wandered around Frog Pond, Lincoln Avenue, and East side of Newport, I've met a few more folks from that older part of town, some who added to the story of the death of Billy. Louise Taylor is the widow of Buddy Taylor, who died in 1995. She is a contemporary of Ken Porter and admits being in the first grade with him at Newport Grammar School. Some of the other classmates included Jack Briggs, who lived at Frog Pond, which explains why he likes swimming so much, Bud McMillan, Frances Taylor-to name a few. She was also familiar with L.S. McKay, who, because he was a couple of years older, hung out with her brother, Clyde Edwards. If you didn't know, she is the daughter of Tom Edwards, who had a flesh & blood connection to the 1946/47 death at Rattlin' Cave. She also expanded on my list of the Bert Poe family to include a daughter, Bobbie Burnett, of Parrottsville.

When we first started our chat about Eastport and rode around with Hugh Gregg Jr., he pointed out many houses and who lived in them during the 1930s-1940s. A couple that interested me were the homes of Donald Hammonds and Tom Edwards, her father. She loaned a photo of him that probably appeared in the Newport Plain Talk showing his bandaged rope-burned right hand. I visited with her in late July to learn more about the neighborhood and see if she had some old photos. Gary Hammonds, one of the Hammondses sons, said he has a few stories and photos to add too.

Born in 1934, Louise lived during the 1930s, 40s between 7th and 8th off Filbert in a small frame house facing Filbert, next to the Hammondses household. Hugh would detour that home because Mr. Hammonds threatened to "cut off my ears." Hugh took this quite literal. Tom was married to the former Ethel Sweeten and he worked for some years with Art Fisher Sr., which brought him into the rescue of Billy as one of the rope holders. She said that Billy and his parents lived almost in her backyard. His mother was Ruth Gregg and stepfather was John Sisk. Billy was her son.

Sunday, late afternoon of the tragedy, she accompanied her parents to Tannery Road and then to TMS off Asheville Highway. She and Ethel waited in the car for hours, perhaps until midnight before rescuers returned off the hillside with Billy's bruised and broken body. Her father's hands were bleeding. Ken recalled that several men suffered rope burns.

I also received this letter some days ago from Robert Farmer Jr., who shared his recollections (note that he spells the name of the cave different, but that may just be the way it was):

"It was of interest to me to see your piece on Bill Gregg's death in Rattler Cave. I was in his class at Cocke County High where we were both enrolled in Mrs. Wilson's Latin class. I think there were only four boys in the class: Bobbie Herndon, Charles Lindsey, Bill, and myself. The class was taken mostly by students who might have university in their future and was mostly made up of girls. I have remembered his death well over the years. He was smart and unusual, relative to students of the time. Today he might have been thought a nerd, I think, always bringing to class some device of interest. And he had a big motorcycle, which he rode to school, as far as I know, the only one student-owned then. It occasioned his frequently being late to school because of mechanical failures etc. Our Latin class was subdued upon learning of his death, for some, our first encounter with sudden, violent death. Mrs. Wilson was helpful in guiding us through it. I have frequently thought of the person Billie might have become given his nature. We continued top explore caves, though carefully and not Rattler Cave. I recall that there is one across the Pigeon River from the railroad station which presented the same sort of danger."