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The modern, fast-paced, urbanized South has moved so far from its agrarian past that large

parts of its heritage have been virtually forgotten. Southerners delight in restoring old houses and urban neighborhoods, and many city dwellers buy old farms and restore the buildings for a weekend retreat. But our unique southern heritage is more than Victorian houses and heart-pine floors, mahogany furniture and Coin silver; it is also Bloody Butcher corn, Red Ripper peas, Ledmon watermelons, Greensboro peaches, upland cotton, Gold Dollar tobacco, and James grapes. These are living threads that lead directly back to three hundred years of the southern agrarian past.

This book is about apples—southern apples—a fruit cherished below the Mason-Dixon Line since soon after Jamestown was settled in 1607. The importance of apples in the South surprises many people—and why not? In the supermarkets are apples from Washington, Michigan, New York, New Zealand, and Chile, but almost never any southern-grown apples. We have forgotten that apples were grown on farms in every part of the South for centuries and that the South devel-oped hundreds of unique apple varieties.

To reclaim some knowledge about southern apples, you need only to talk to elderly southerners who grew up on a farm. Their eyes light up as they speak of almost-forgotten apples: Red June, Buckingham, Yates, Nickajack, Fallawater, Magnum Bonum, Blacktwig, Horse Apple, Hunge, Smith’s Seedling, Sally Gray, Summer Orange, Edwards’ Winter, and on and on. They will tell you of apples fried for breakfast in the drippings from sausage or side meat. They remember storing boxes of apples through the winter in unheated rooms of the farmhouse and how those apples perfumed the whole house. They recall drying apple slices on a tin roof, and they can tell you how to make cider and vinegar. But most of all they remember the incomparable taste of a freshly picked southern apple, dense and high in soluble solids, baked right on the tree by those long, hot southern summers.

A letter to me from a man in Arkansas clearly illus-trates the many uses of apples in days gone by:

I can recall my grandmother telling me often, when I was a child, about the part apples played on her family’s small Arkansas farm in the late 1800s. She spoke of a room off their kitchen that had shelves on which they stored apples for the winter. On winter evenings, she said, the family would sit around the fireplace cracking nuts and eating apples, sometimes with popcorn popped in the fireplace. My grandmother used to lament the narrowing of varieties of apples available in stores as she aged, and would tell me the names of the many vari-eties available when she was a child, and how each apple was grown for a different reason.

Apples continued to be a large part of her family’s life into the twentieth century. My great-uncle made cider and cider vine-gar, and my mother and her sisters tell me that their mother would slice them and dry them under cheesecloth on the hot roof in the summer. Dried apples would be stored in cloth bags until used for fried pies (called “tarts” in this area of the state). Apples were also fried for breakfast and were made into pies all year round. My mother’s first cousin, who lived near the old homeplace in Grant County, was renowned for a green apple pie she made each June for the family homecoming.

We are living in the last days of the southern apple. When these elderly southerners are gone, so will be the lore of southern apples. Indeed, most of the unique southern apple varieties have already passed over into history; perhaps 80 percent of them are extinct.

Thirty years ago, not long after I retired from the

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Army, an elderly friend challenged me to find the Magnum Bonum apple, a cherished memory from his youth. My two-year search for that apple was an education. I found that rural southerners remembered the old apples, but no one grew them anymore. Finally I found a few old Magnum Bonum trees in Virginia. Shortly thereafter I discovered a tree of the Summer Orange apple here in my own county and then an old tree of Bevan’s Favorite in a neighboring county. These discoveries were proof enough that at least a few of the old southern apples were still out there, surviving as gnarled old snags in remote places. The search goes on, and I am no longer alone in the quest to save old southern apple varieties. Friends have been recruited to expand the search net, and we have joined with others who also have long sought old southern apples.

My hunt for old apple varieties led to a concurrent search for historical information about these apples. Libraries and used bookstores yielded a number of nine-teenth-century books describing American fruit, but, with one minor exception, these books were written by northerners who gave short shrift to southern apples. Nowhere in the old pomological texts was there a good compilation of information about southern apples. The South had its great pomologists in the 1800s, but none of them ever wrote a definitive text. Bits and pieces of information were scattered everywhere: in old books and horticultural magazines, in old nursery catalogs, agricultural bulletins, and newspapers, in the minutes of state horticultural societies, in letters buried in almost forgotten USDA files, and in the memories of elderly southerners still alive.

About 1988 I became determined to fill this void by writing the history and description of every old south-ern apple. My initial estimate was that perhaps 300 or 400 different apples had been grown in the South, but research has proved this estimate to be absurdly low—over 1,800 apple varieties are described in this book.

Let us consider for a moment just how and why so many different apple varieties arose in the South. To start at the beginning, there must be a little under-standing of apple biology. In the South apple trees bloom in April each year. Flowers on apple trees contain both male and female sex parts, the male part being the stamen with its pollen (the male sex cell) and

the female part being the pistil with ovules (the female sex cell) in a swelling at the base of the flower. Most apple varieties are not receptive to their own pollen (or pollen from other trees of the same variety) but must be “cross-pollinated” with pollen from a different apple variety. Apple pollen is too heavy to be carried by wind, so cross-pollination is performed by bees and other small flying insects, which carry pollen grains on their bodies from tree to tree, depositing the pollen on the pistils as they crawl over the flower.

When a pollen grain is deposited on a pistil, the male chromosomes in the pollen grain unite with the female chromosomes in an ovule at the base of the pistil to form a fertilized egg with its full complement of chromosomes. This fertilized egg develops into an apple seed. (Each of the several seeds inside an apple is pollinated separately, and each may, in fact, receive pollen from different apple varieties.) The fleshy swell-ing at the base of the flower that surrounds the ovules develops into the flesh of the apple. This fleshy swelling is tissue from the mother tree and is not involved in the fertilization of the ovules inside. Thus, a Red June apple tree will always bear Red June apples because the skin and flesh of the apples come entirely from the mother tree. Only the seeds inside the apple have been cross-pollinated.

Apple seeds contain genetic material from both the mother tree that carries the apple and the father tree from which the pollen originated. This fact, plus the random sorting of genetic material in the forma-tion of pollen and ovules, means that each apple seed is genetically different from all other apple seeds and will, if planted, produce a tree and fruit different from all other apple trees and fruit. In this respect apples resemble humans because every human is genetically unique and different from all others.

To follow this analogy further, consider the human population as a whole. Most of us are born, live, and die as ordinary people, with little to distinguish us from the millions around us. Only very occasionally does a human rise above the crowd by mental genius or exceptional ability. No one can predict when a random sorting of genetic material will produce an Einstein, a Leonardo da Vinci, or an Alexander the Great. This analogy holds true for apples; every apple

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The sudden death of Henry Morton

in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in the

1990s was a double tragedy. His

family and friends suffered a loss, and

those of us who search for old apple

varieties lost much of his unique

collection of Appalachian mountain

apples, which Henry had found over

many years of searching mountain

coves and hollows. This loss made

obvious the temporary nature of the

several private collections of antique

southern apple varieties. What was

needed was a permanent site for

southern apples.

The state of North Carolina owns

and operates twenty-seven historic

sites including Horne Creek Living

Historical Farm twenty miles north of

Winston-Salem. The state purchased

the old Hauser farm and restored it

to demonstrate farm life in piedmont

North Carolina around 1900. The

centerpiece of Horne Creek Farm

is the modest 1875 farmhouse that

Thomas and Charlotte Hauser built

and where they raised their twelve

children. Over 35,000 people visit

Horne Creek Farm each year to walk

through the house, gardens, and

outbuildings of the farm and to see

the farm animals.

In 1997 the site manager of Horne

Creek Farm agreed to make available

a seven-acre parcel for an orchard to

preserve antique southern apple vari-

eties. With a $50,000 grant from the

state, the Southern Heritage Apple

Orchard was born.

The Heritage Orchard is fronted

on the north side by a paved road.

The site is a long ridgeline sloping

from north to south with excellent

air drainage. The soil is fertile clay

loam.

The orchard site has been enclosed

in an eight-foot-high, all-steel anti-

deer fence and laid out to contain

four hundred antique southern apple

varieties, two trees of each. One tree

of each variety is freestanding on

semidwarf rootstock. These trees are

spaced twelve feet apart in rows eigh-

teen feet apart. The second tree is on

dwarf rootstock, espaliered on wires,

and spaced two to eight feet apart in

rows twelve feet apart. Having two

trees of each variety gives a source of

scions for grafting a replacement for a

dead tree. Most of the trees are bear-

ing fruit now.

The four hundred small trees are

espaliered on wires using five classic

espalier shapes. Three hundred small

trees are in the oblique cordon shape.

The remaining hundred dwarf trees

are espaliered in the Belgian Fence,

vertical cordon, horizontal cordon, or

double-U palmate shapes to demon-

strate the beautiful possibilities of

espalier and its suitability for urban

lots.

The Heritage Orchard is visitor-

friendly and open to the public

(closed Sundays and Mondays). It is

kept mowed, and a gravel road bisects

the orchard to a gravel parking lot.

Shade trees have been planted and,

when they are larger, picnic tables

will be placed under them. A full-

time, state-employed horticulturist

takes care of the orchard. If you plan

to visit the Heritage Orchard, call

ahead, (336) 325-2298.

The Southern Heritage Apple Orchard at Horne Creek Farm

oblique cordon belgian fence vertical cordon

double-u horizontal cordon

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seed will grow into a unique tree, but almost always this new tree and its fruit will be quite ordinary. Only once in a long while, and unpredictably, will a seed-ling apple tree rise above the rest, distinguished by the health and vigor of the tree or the outstanding quality of the fruit. It has been estimated that modern plant breeders get only one in ten thousand apple seeds to grow into a tree with fruit worthy of further consideration.

When a seedling tree bearing good apples is discov-ered, it cannot be reproduced by the seeds of its apples that, of course, have been cross-pollinated. In the old days good seedling trees could be duplicated by digging up root sprouts that sometimes grow up around apple trees, a very slow method of propagation. A faster way of duplicating trees is by grafting, a process whereby a twig is cut from a good apple tree and inserted into the pencil-diameter, severed trunk of a young apple tree. The twig and trunk fuse together and grow into a tree identical to the tree from which the twig was taken. By grafting, hundreds of apple trees can be propagated each year by cutting twigs from a single tree, and each new tree will bear fruit identical to the original tree.

Every one of the 1,800 apple varieties described in this book originated when an apple seed grew into a tree bearing exceptional fruit. Some of these seedling trees were “chance seedlings.” Fallen apples might roll downhill or be carried away by heavy rains, and perhaps a seed would grow into a seedling tree in a fencerow or ditch. Seeds of apples squeezed for cider were discarded in fields and along woodlines, and some of the seeds would take root. Apples were fed to hogs and other farm animals, and chance seedlings grew in the corners of feedlots and pastures.

Although chance seedlings were the original source of many unique southern apples, most old apple vari-eties originated when rural southerners deliberately planted apple seeds in order to have an orchard. Seedling orchards were common in the South from the early 1600s until the mid-1800s. This was a time of great movement of people and the opening of enormous new lands. Apple seeds were durable and portable, and they cost nothing in a time when money was scarce and grafting was a rare skill. The men and women who

planted apple seeds had no illusions about what they would get from seedling trees. They knew some trees would bear poor fruit that could be fed to the hogs, and other trees would have apples best used for cider and vinegar. But these rural southerners expected a number of their seedling trees would bear apples good enough for cooking and fresh eating and for keeping through the winter.

Millions of apple seeds were planted in the South between the early 1600s and the mid-1800s to grow seedling orchards. Out of this great number of seedling trees, some were found to be exceptional. It was these exceptional apple varieties that southerners cherished, shared root sprouts with neighbors, and which were eventually grafted and sold by southern nurseries.

The yardstick that past generations of rural south-erners used to measure the quality of apples is different from ours today. Certainly over 80 percent of apples sold in today’s supermarkets and farmers’ markets are eaten fresh. Just the reverse was true on southern farms for hundreds of years; most apples were used for cooking, drying, cider and vinegar, and only a small percentage was eaten fresh. After all, even large rural families could hardly snack their way through all the apples from a farm orchard that might have forty large trees. Apples good for cooking or drying or cider have different qualities from those used for fresh eating. It is a waste of time to bite into an old apple variety and then disparage its taste or texture. Likely this particu-lar apple was prized in bygone days because it quickly cooked to pieces when stewed or because it stayed white when dried or perhaps it would keep through the winter without refrigeration.

For sixteen years my wife and I sold trees of old southern apples through our small nursery, mostly to rural southerners who wanted the kinds of apples that their parents or grandparents once grew on the farm. We also sold to an increasing number of people who wanted to grow some of their food and who were willing to make the effort to have a garden and small orchard. We always urged purchasers to extend the use of apples beyond fresh eating. It is somehow satisfying to stew apples for supper and fry them for breakfast, to make a batch of applesauce or apple butter, and to store some apples in plastic bags in the bottom of the refrigerator

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for winter eating. The only way to appreciate the full palate of old apples is to make the effort to use them in the varied ways they were intended originally.

Growing old southern apples is not just an exercise in nostalgia; a look at the latest USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map shows why this is true. Virtually all of the great commercial apple-growing regions in the United States are in zones 5 and 6, with average minimum winter temperatures of 0°F to minus 20°F. (Roughly, zones 5 and 6 fall north of a line stretching from northern Virginia westward through Kentucky and on through northern Arkansas, plus a long finger running down the spine of the Appalachian Mountains.) Most of the apple-breeding work being done in the United States today is to develop apples for commercial production in zones 5 and 6. But the great majority of southerners live in warmer areas, zones 7, 8, and 9, and no one in the United States—not agricultural colleges, agricultural experiment stations, or the USDA—is targeting apple-breeding work for these zones. Rarely do new apple varieties bred for cooler regions do well in zones 7, 8, and 9; usually they do not and exhibit heat intolerance by the fruit dropping before ripen-ing, rotting on the tree, or developing a soft texture.

Southerners can look to the old southern apples and find many that were originally selected because the trees grew well and produced good apples in warmer areas. In the old varieties, too, will be found apples especially suitable for cider, drying, cooking, and winter storage for those southerners who wish to expand their apple horizons.

You Are Enlisted in the Search

Of the roughly 1,800 apple varieties that were once grown in the South, some 500 are known to still exist. There are others out there, undiscovered, and you are asked to help in locating them. Ask your elderly neigh-bors or grandparents if they know of any old apple trees that can still be identified with a name. If you find anything even remotely resembling in name or synonym an apple listed in this book as extinct, please write or telephone us giving as much information as possible. By doing so, you may be instrumental in saving a small part of the southern heritage. We are: Lee and Edith Calhoun, 295 Blacktwig Road, Pittsboro, North Carolina 27312; (919) 542-4480.

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