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0:00 - Introduction

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Partial Transcript: Today is June 30th, 1984. My name is Teka Ward. I'm interviewing Philip Dunnagan. Our topic is Lou Tate, and we are at the Little Loomhouse in Kenwood Hill, Louisville, Kentucky.

Segment Synopsis: Teka Ward introduces the interview with Philip Dunnagan about Lou Tate and the Little Loomhouse.

Keywords: Kenwood Hill; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Louisville, Kentucky; Louisville, Ky; Philip Dunnagan; Teka Ward; The Little Loomhouse

Subjects: Kentucky--History; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Weaving

0:10 - Personal Background / Relationship with Lou Tate / Description of Kenwood Hill

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Partial Transcript: As we begin Philip...tell me first about you.

Segment Synopsis: Philip Dunnagan shares some about his personal background and his relationship with Lou Tate. He works as the Assistant U.S. Attorney in the Civil Division. He first met Lou Tate in the 2nd grade and recalls working on a weaving project using a piece of cardboard as a loom. Dunnagan also recalls his family's friendship with the Tenny family, who lived near Lou Tate. Dunnagan's mother eventually moved near Lou Tate and the Little Loomhouse as well. Dunnagan also describes a letter that his mother received from Lou Tate inviting him to continue his weaving training at the Little Loomhouse.

Keywords: Coon Trail; District attorneys; Earl Ave.; Earl Avenue; Fort Knox; Fort Knox, Kentucky; Fort Knox, Ky; Hal Tenny; Hill House; International clubs; Kenwood Hill; Kitty Tenny; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Louisville, Kentucky; Louisville, Ky; Orchard Hill Dr.; Orchard Hill Drive; Phil Dunnagan; Philip Dunnagan; Possum Path; South 1st St.; South 1st Street; South First St.; South First Street; The Courier-Journal; The Little Loomhouse; Top House

Subjects: Belts (Clothing); Coasters (Trays); Correspondence; Kentucky--History; Letters; Looms; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Place mats; Public prosecutors; Runners (Household linens); United Nations associations; Weaving

6:24 - Saturday weaving lessons / Lou Tate's teaching style / Lou Tate's storytelling

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Partial Transcript: In fact, this is one of the things I wanted to mention.

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan describes a typical Saturday spent at The Little Loomhouse. He describes piling in the back of Lou Tate's station wagon with her dog Skipper and riding down for a treat at Haywood Dairy. He talks about Lou Tate's teaching techniques and the respect she gave her young students, as well as the expectations she had for them. He tells a story about a fight he got into with Ellen Tenny, and the way Lou Tate handled the situation. Dunnagan also explains that Lou was a storyteller who used history and heritage as the basis for many of her stories.

Keywords: Buffalo; Crafts; Debbie DeLong; Devil's Backbone; Ellen Tenny; Ford; Haywood Dairy; Haywood's Dairy; Heritage; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Mickey Hollis; Missy LeDant; Stories; Taylor Blvd.; Taylor Boulevard; The Little Loomhouse; Top House

Subjects: American bison; Coverlets; Cultural property; Handicraft; Indians of North America; Kentucky--History; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Station wagons; Storytellers; Teaching; Weaving; Weaving--patterns

14:09 - Defending Kenwood Hill

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Partial Transcript: Looking back, do you think that she related especially well to children...as compared with adults?

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan further explains that Lou Tate treated children as equals to adults. He describes Lou Tate's struggles with developers near her property, and the irresponsible development that occurred on Kenwood Hill. Dunnagan felt that the struggle concerning Lou Tate's land occupied more of her time and energy as she became older. Dunnagan shares information from a letter that references land lawsuits and the designation of the cabins on the National Register of Historic Places.

Keywords: Hal Tenny; Kenwood Hill; Kitty Tenny; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Maury Weedman; National Register of Historic Places; The Little Loomhouse; Top House

Subjects: Coverlets; Housing developers; Indians of North America; Kentucky--History; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Preservation; Real estate developers; Storytellers; Weaving

24:29 - Lou's dog

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Partial Transcript: Tell me more about Skipper, the dog.

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan fondly recalls Lou Tate's dog, Skipper. He describes Skipper's tricks and his love for ice cream. He also shares that he buried Skipper for Lou after he passed away.

Keywords: Bottom House; Chevy; Esta House; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman

Subjects: Chevrolet automobile; Cocker spaniels; Dogs; Kentucky--History; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Weaving

27:48 - Discussion of a photograph

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Partial Transcript: We have a picture of you here as a little boy, weaving, next to a piece you wove.

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan describes a photograph of himself that is present at the interview. He explains how he often played around the cabins in his lederhosen because they could take all the wear and dirt. He also talks about a weaving piece present at the interview, and the way Lou Tate taught her students to sign their pieces by attaching a tag.

Keywords: Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Possum Path

Subjects: Kentucky--History; Lederhosen; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Photographs; Play; Weaving

31:02 - Lou Tate's authority / Lou Tate's teaching style (continued)

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Partial Transcript: This is the beginning of side two, interview one, with Philip Dunnagan.

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan returns to talking about Lou Tate's teaching style. He explains that Lou Tate was strict when it came to her students' behavior, but allowed her students to have a lot of freedom when it came to creativity. He walks through the process of weaving with Lou Tate at the Little Loomhouse.

Keywords: Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Philip Dunnagan; The Little Loomhouse; Top House

Subjects: Colors; Kentucky--History; Looms; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Teaching; Weaving; Yarn

36:49 - Lou Tate as part of the family / Lou Tate as a strong, independent woman

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Partial Transcript: As you said earlier, she also became a family friend.

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan describes his love for Lou and his family's friendship with her. He describes her as an equally strong and passionate person when it came to fighting for her land, and a loving person when it came to her students and friends. He explains the closeness of the neighborhood, specifically with Lou Tate and the Tenny family. He specifically recalls sledding parties on Kenwood Hill. He also describes how Lou was approached about integrating her weaving program with the public school system, but how she would not compromise due to the potential loss of the identity of the Little Loomhouse.

Keywords: Carol Rd.; Carol Road; Carolyn Rd.; Carolyn Road; Coon Trail; Ellen Tenny; Esplanade Ave.; Esplanade Avenue; Hal Tenny; JCPS; Jefferson County Public Schools; Kenwood Hill Rd.; Kenwood Hill Road; Kenwood Rd.; Kenwood Road; Kitty Tenny; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Possum Path; The Little Loomhouse

Subjects: Family; Kentucky--History; Letters; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Love; Public schools; Sledding; Snow; Teaching; Weaving

43:11 - Weaving in Top House / Being encouraged to read by Lou Tate / Gifts from Lou Tate

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Partial Transcript: Okay, in another vein, something I thought of was that, I don't know, I guess the ambiance...a story, or an event that came to mind was that in the winter months...

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan describes the ambiance of weaving in the cabins during the winter months. In order to stay warm, you had to crowd around the wood stoves. He also credits Lou Tate with encouraging his love for reading. She specifically introduced him to The Hobbit. He recalls an evening gathering where he spent the whole evening reading, at the encouragement of Lou Tate. Dunnagan also describes some gifts he received from Lou Tate. She gave him a .38 Smith and Wesson that he had admired at her house that had a backstory in Lou Tate's family. Though Lou Tate could not attend Dunnagan's wedding, she gave he and his wife a partial set of Limoges china as a wedding gift.

Keywords: Bottom House; Ellen Tenny; Frederica Dunnagan; Hal Tenny; Kitty Tenny; Limoges china; Lord of the Rings; Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; Serapis; The Hobbit; Top House

Subjects: Books; Fireplaces; Gifts; Kentucky--History; Looms; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Porcelain; Railroads; Reading; Smith and Wesson firearms; Stoves; Weapons; Weaving; Weddings; Yarn

51:44 - Lou Tate's principles

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Partial Transcript: What are you going to remember most about Lou Tate?

Segment Synopsis: Dunnagan describes the characteristics that he will remember most about Lou Tate. He focuses on her principles. Dunnagan says that Lou Tate took a stand about what she believed in -- she decided what was important to her, and spent the rest of her life living that decision.

Keywords: Lou Tate; Lou Tate Bousman; Louisa Tate Bousman; The Little Loomhouse

Subjects: Kentucky--History; Laughter; Louisville (Ky.)--History; Love; Principle (Philosophy); Values; Weaving

0:00

Today is June 30, 1984. My name is Teka Ward. I am interviewing Philip Dunnagan. Our topic is Lou Tate and we’re at the Little Loomhouse on Kenwood Hill, Louisville, KY.

Teka: As we begin, Philip, first, tell us about you.

Phil: About me? Well, my name is Phil Dunnagan and I’m thirty-three. I work at the U.S. Attorney’s office. I’m assistant district attorney in the Civil Division. I was born at Fort Knox and raised in Louisville. I can’t think of much else right at the moment. What else do you want to know?

Teka: No, that’s great. That’s perfect.

Tell us when you first met Lou Tate.

Phil: Well, the year, I’d have to backtrack, but I believe it was when I was in second grade, as I recall. I was in Mrs. Strong’s class in second grade, and I would have been approximately eight years old, probably. At least that’s the first time I recall being involved with Lou Tate, as far as weaving was concerned. And I remember she had us do a project where you made a loom out of a piece of cardboard. You cut slots on both sides and made your own little warp and then you would thread yarn through it. I think it turned into, not a pot holder, but something to sit drinks on -- a coaster type thing. I remember I even took it to school as a show and tell project.

And also, I remember, at that time, that I just happened to start just at the time that the Courier-Journal did a spread on Lou Tate in the magazine section. And she brought a bunch of the little ones down to the studio for photographs and I happened to be one of the ones included. As I recall I had my own little cardboard loom with me then, weaving. My little feet wouldn’t even touch the floor. They were dangling off the edge of the chair. Yes, I would say it was about when I was eight years old.

Teka: Then you lived near Lou Tate?

Phil: Well, originally, we lived on Earl Avenue and our friends, the Tennys lived on, I believe it was, South First Street and then they moved up to the Hill House, I guess you’d call it; it was at the top of the hill here at Possum Path and Coon Trail. And their home was very much like my second home. I spent almost every weekend there and because that’s just up the road from where we’re sitting at the moment at the Tophouse, I spent a lot of time around here, yes.

Teka: Your mother moved over here after the Tennys moved here.

Phil: Right, my mom moved over here--I guess I was in the seventh grade, I’d say around ‘65, we moved to Orchard Hill Drive, which is on the hill that’s sort of at the bottom around on the other side of Orchard Hill next to Westhall, and so on.

Teka: So you started coming up here before you moved here.

Phil: Oh, yes, much before then.

Teka: How did you all find out about Lou Tate?

Phil: Actually, mom found out about Lou Tate through the Tennys and I don’t know how the Tennys found out about Lou Tate, because they knew Lou Tate before they moved up here. It probably sounds like I’m choosing these words for the interview, but you think about this place, not so much now, with all the construction around here, but when we first came up here, I mean, really, the only houses up here were the house at the top of the hill, the Loomhouse, the Lydan’s house further down; and all the new houses being constructed on the other side of the hill.

This was all trees and so I was going to use terms like… a haven; it was like this little area nestled in urban Louisville that was reasonably untouched. And I remember when the Tennys bought the house at the top of the hill up there on Possum Path. Even after we would visit up there, only then did some of these trees start coming down and Kenwood Hill was extended beyond the Loomhouse, and so on.

And I guess where I was headed with all that was that we enjoyed coming up here. It was like a special place to come. I liked to spend time here and hear the wind whistling through the trees and it was just so restful. Yes, it was, restful.

Teka: Would you come here for lessons? Would you come to visit?

Phil: Well, as a matter of fact, as I was saying to you a few minutes ago, just before I came here for this interview, I called my mother to again reminisce about Lou Tate to see if there were things that I had not thought of and she managed to come up with a letter that Lou wrote her about having a picnic up here for the International Club. Apparently they were having a United Nations Day or something, and mother was involved with the International Club and so [Lou] wrote mom a letter about inviting some friends up here for a picnic. And in that same letter [she] talked about [whether] I was still keen on the idea of weaving [and] that I could start on Saturday mornings; we started probably at ten.

So apparently I had been here one time prior. It would cost me twenty-five cents for the materials to finish the runner that I was working on and my tuition would be three dollars, which was half the adult rate and that some times she did not charge three dollars if one did not use a lot of materials or if she had us working on what she termed, in the letter, an experimental project.

Yes, I came up here, I can’t tell you now in my memory just exactly how long, but for over a couple of years. At least, I was here pretty regularly on Saturdays, weaving placemats or she’d sometimes call them runners, [as] they were longer to go on dressers, like the one behind you there, or coasters or some belts. Yes, I took lessons.

Teka: Would this be with other students; young people?

Phil: That’s what was part of the fun. There’d be a lot of people here; in fact, this is one of the things I wanted to mention. I don’t know what order to go in, but since we’re already on this…

You’d come and you’d spend most of Saturday here and I’d say around--I’m guessing now--around two or four o’clock, if you’d been good all day and if you’d been doing what you were supposed to do, Lou would have a big treat for you. She’d pile everybody ---in fact, you were supposed to bring a nickel with you-- and she’d pile everybody in her Ford station wagon along with her Cocker Spaniel, Skipper, who always sat in the front seat. He was one of these really happy dogs, you know, tail wagging all the time, ears dangling down, and we would all pile in the back and we would go down to what, I believe, was called Haywood Dairy, which was down on Taylor Blvd., and we would all get an ice cream cone.

This was the big thing and there was always a group of us. It was like a social set, you know, you would see often many of the same people, sometimes new people, but the kids that lived here on the hill: Ellen Tenny, prior to living here on the hill and after she did, Missy Lydan, when she was living here, Debbie Duwan, who lived back on Lost Trail, on the other side of the hill; they were pretty much regulars. And there were several other regulars and some guys: Mickey Hollis, who lived over here in the house next door; I’m trying to remember, Tyree and Lee Wilburn, a couple of brothers; and they would come up here and we’d weave and then we’d go play. It was just a regular event for us, about every weekend.

Teka; How did she teach you all?

Phil: How did she teach us? Well, I didn’t think about that before the interview. I thought about what she taught us. How did she teach us? She taught us patiently. She’d sit down. She’d show us. She would explain it to us. Probably, the niftiest thing about Lou was that she treated you like an adult and if you acted like an adult, she’d treat you like one; she treated you with respect.

She treated you like you were worth something and you weren’t just a little kid to be pushed aside. And she was patient; she would expect things from you. She would expect you to listen, she would expect you to pay attention, she would expect you to try, you know; it was like a respect situation.

In fact, a term that I coined before I came here; it sounded corny, but it was true. She not only taught us the color values, if you will, that she would call, the different values in colors; but she taught values of life, if you will.

I mean it was a give and take situation. I remember, particularly,-- and I’m kind of digressing from the question you asked me, but I remember particularly one night when Ellen Tenny was here and I--and I was still young, it was not many years after I had been here, I seem to recall, because I was young and Ellen was young and Ellen was down here working on a project.

Well, let’s see, by that time she must have moved up here to the house, so it wasn’t long after that and she was down here working on a project and I was with her. In fact, we were in the Tophouse here and, I don’t know, she was like the sister I never had; and we had a kind of brother-sister type argument. She was a year and six months older than I was and I remember I got really angry. I thought that she was being terribly unfair, and, of course, I had a temper then and I think I punched her on the arm and made her cry. Tate heard all this and came upstairs.

I was gonna storm off to my second home, up to the house, going back up the hill there and I remember I was standing out there. Tate was down by what I would call the front door of Top House and she told me to come back and I said, “No.”

You know, I was having a tantrum, if you will, crying, upset and she told me-- and I knew she meant it-- she said that if I didn’t come back [right then] I could never come back again. I had to apologize. She just wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior around there and I mean, that went through me like a knife, because I couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to come back there anymore and I knew she meant it just as sure as anything. And so I thought about it a minute and then remorse started setting in, because I didn’t want it to happen anyway and I was really sorry.

So I remember I came down and I cried and told her I was sorry. She said that was fine but I needed to tell Ellen I was sorry, and so I went up and I told Ellen that I really didn’t mean it and I was sorry. Of course, I was still kind of mad, too, because I didn’t think it was fair, but at the same time, I told her that I loved her and we patched it all up.

I still remember that to this day because there was a certain definiteness; there was a limit beyond which she wouldn’t let you push her, and looking at it now, it was like it gave us parameters; there was a stability there, you know.

I don’t know if that answers the question, but that’s the story I really wanted to tell about Lou. She was special. Anyway…

Teka: What kind of things would she…would she tell stories while she taught you all about weaving?

Phil: Yes, she would tell stories. Lou was a story teller. The thing is, as I sit here, I know that is true, but I can’t pick out a specific story. I remember she used to talk about…we used to go on the, what was called Devil’s Backbone…and as I understand, it’s pretty much been built over now, constructed [on]. It was here on the back of the hill, in fact, there’s a photograph out here.

It’s full of rocks and they used to call it Devil’s Backbone. We would go exploring and there was a trail at the top of the hill to the edge of the Backbone and we would go over the rocks and we would come back down.

There were some rocks up there that I’m sure don’t exist any more because I’ve driven up there. They were all very flat and set in the ground next to one another, almost in a square or rectangular shape. Lou would tell us about how the buffalo used to roam in this area back when the settlers came. The theory was that those rocks were put there by the Indians in order to stretch out the buffalo hides.

She would try to relate to us the history of the area; the heritage. Lou was very much on heritage, about remembering from whence she came and, of course, part of that fit into the weaving. Even though I was never what I would call an advanced weaving student, because I sort of, as I grew older, [decided] it wasn’t the thing for a boy to do anymore, at least I didn’t think it was. I’m not sure if that’s accurate but you get into that psyche, that thought process, but Lou always taught me appreciation for crafts and the art of weaving.

I found out later, as I was older, after I wasn’t really actively weaving any more, that obviously she kept such a tremendous record of all the patterns and her coverlets and so forth, but I mean, that’s just Lou. She was just very much into heritage and she would try and tell us about that; about where things came from and why it was so, and how it used to be, and what they used to do. Sometimes it would sink in, I mean, like for me hearing about Indians stretching buffalo skins is one that I still remember, probably sunk in more as a boy. I’m sure she told me other stories that didn’t sink in…about why people [wove] coverlets the way they did or how they came by and sold (?) them, and so on. Yes, she’d tell us stories.

Teka: Looking back, do you think she related especially well to children? …as compared with adults?

Phil: Yes, there’s no question about that. Again, if for no other reason, in the fact that Lou treated you like you were an equal, as long as you acted like one. And a lot of other adults would never do that. They’d treat you like a child. And usually you’d respond like a child.

Lou, on the other hand, I mean, she had patience. Not that she didn’t have a temper, but it wasn’t one that would ever be shown toward the kids. It was shown more toward the people that were trying to destroy the hill, over the years, by changing the contour face and changing the water run off, bulldozing down the property stake lines. She was in a constant struggle. In fact, it wore her down tremendously, in my opinion, because she was in a constant struggle with the developers who had no appreciation for the same types of things that Lou appreciated. And, you know, it was progress, but their tactics were less than savory.

In terms of her temper toward the kids she was always patient, but she told it like it was, I mean, when I told you about not coming back, I mean, it was one of those situations where she would not make idle threats and not keep them. Lou was solid. That’s what Lou was. Lou was solid.

Teka: How did you know about what was going on? How did you know about the problems she was having with the neighborhood?

Phil: It was a constant thing, well, maybe from the first couple of years I [was] here it wasn’t so constant. You’d hear her talk about, if not as a main course, it was a constant by-product of the conversation and as the years went on it got even more so, because it threatened the very existence of this area.

I mean, first of all, taking it in stages, (I’m pointing, you can’t see it on the tape recorder), but as they extended Kenwood Hill out and they built the homes which would be down at the bottom of Kenwood Hill, connecting in with Coon Trail, heading on down towards Carolyn Rd., I mean, they started bulldozing all these trees out. It is my remembrance, although I don’t remember who did it, that somebody had the bad judgment of taking the trees and putting them together in a pile, and then bulldozing dirt on top of them, and then building foundations on them so that later all those houses developed tremendous difficulties. As the trees underneath decayed, of course, the foundations in some of them would have huge cracks. If I’m not mistaken, they even built one house over here right in the middle of a natural water run-off. I mean, it was all a grassy area, but after a rain it was such that you could set your foot down, and, I mean, you couldn’t tell it was a stream because there was grass there. But after a rain, it was like the water was up to the top of the grass level and [water] would go over your shoes.

And they built a house right in the way of that! And that was indicative of their lack of respect for the natural aspect of the land, and it got to the point where they were developing here above Possum Path and they changed the run-off so that there were continual mud slides coming down. In the later years, it even blocked Possum Path so it was impassible and [was] coming down onto Lou’s property and threatening the houses that were here.

I mean, what I’m saying is that in my earlier stages of just being around here, when I was actively participating in weaving lessons, it probably wasn’t quite as apparent. But even when I would come back here when Lou had became a family friend and I wasn’t actively participating in the weaving, but just participating in the atmosphere, the ambiance of the place, when they would have an Open House, it was a topic that always came up, because it was so continual, you know.

And I happened to know [that] the Tennys once had trouble; I say once, there was an instance; a time period, where the people who were developing around their house would continue to bulldoze over the property stakes and Hal would have to keep going down there and pounding them to make sure they understood where they couldn’t cross.

This happened on the back side, I guess you’d call it, of the property line where Lou had this problem here, [also]. Later, as I was older--I didn’t do it that much, but Maury Weedman, who used to live across the street here on Kenwood Hill, would get railroad ties and then they would drive stakes into the ground to try to hold the earth from sliding in on Top House up here. I came a couple of times and tried to help out. And so it was a continual and constant problem.

Teka: What were your impressions of her as a young child, as compared to your impressions as you became older? (Aside--you’re doing such a good job.)

Philip: When I was younger and knew her, she was probably more lively and vivacious. Of course, she was younger then, too. As she got older, I think that the constant struggle of this place wore her down, but you could still see the mirth in her eyes.

I recall one Christmas, when we were at the Tennys, when they still lived in their log cabin and, I have to believe this was after 1975, because I believe I was married; if not, it was certainly after I was in college, and I believe, already in law school; she made this little item out of yarn.

I can’t even tell you how it worked exactly, but she twisted it up and pulled it some certain way and all of a sudden it just kind of, like a rubber band, unwound, one yarn on top of the other. It was green and white, like a little Christmas necklace, if you will, that kind of draped around my neck. I remember I wore it to church that night at the midnight service.

Of course, Lou couldn’t go with us. But I remember when she did that. You could see in her eyes; that mirth, that almost mischievous spark in her eye. She was a loving person. She was loving the whole time, but again, I think [the stress] got to her after a while and as I was older, I noticed it more.

Well, you know, I’ve already said it, I guess I can’t think of much else, other than the fact that it seemed to become a larger part than, again, when I was younger. Maybe it was because I was younger, I didn’t notice as much. But as the struggle became greater, the struggle towards trying to keep the hill from sliding down on top of the cabins became greater. It seemed to occupy more and more of her being and would preoccupy her as opposed to when I was younger and [when] she seemed to be more carefree

I don’t want to say defensive, ‘cause that’s not exactly it, or protective. She was more outgoing because she was giving to the world more then, and then she had to defend and defend. She still did that to people she knew, but she couldn’t reach out as much to spread the weaving and preservation of culture as she had before because she was having to spend more time defending and defending.

There were lawsuits regarding the property lines, in fact, oh, well, I mentioned to you earlier that I called mom and she read me a second letter which was dated in 1975. And you could just tell from the tone of her letter that Lou was talking about how she wasn’t really feeling that well and how she wasn’t going to be able to make it to my wedding, but she wanted to have a bang-up picnic for me later that summer. This was a letter to my mom. And then she was talking about the lawsuits and how they were still in process in ‘75 so it must have been earlier in ‘75, because the wedding was scheduled in May [and] it looked like the cabins [would be] on the National Register of Historic Landmark.

It would be the first such building in the south end so designated and she had made mention of the fact that they had wanted all three cabins. If she gave them all three, she might go down to Texas. Apparently there was a doctor in Texas who wanted her to move down, I presume, for weaving and so forth, I don’t know.

But I think her comment in the letter, as mom read it to me over the phone, was that if she gave them all three cabins there wouldn’t be much point in staying. And then she made reference to mother about the fact that Judge Ruvell-- oh that they had won the lawsuit on all points and that Judge Ruvell-- this was in her letter-- did not have much patience, I believe it was, or did not care too much for people who bought undeveloped tracts of land that already had our cabins standing on them. Judge Ruvell did not have much respect for a surveyor who, according to her letter, was bought, and [so] he decided all the issues in her favor and basically, she was looking forward to seeing mom. In fact, I believe mom showed you a number of letters when my mother had an interview with you, but she said that she didn’t have those two letters out at the time.

I guess that covers it

Teka: Tell me more about Skipper, the dog.

Phil: Oh, I’d love to. He was Lou’s constant companion for years. In fact, I was thinking about this on the way over here.

They say that sometimes people have a tendency to either look like their dogs, or the dogs take on the characteristics of the people. [I’ve already mentioned] when I was younger and talking about when we used to pile in the Chevy to go to the dairy to get the ice cream He was just one of these cocker spaniels [with] excitement from the tip of his nose to his tail. And his tail was going like this all the time, in fact, his little hind end would even go along with it, you know. He was just happy. And his tongue was out, and he was just happy all the time. Lou used to teach him a trick. Oh, well, he would go get ice cream.

He loved ice cream. Skipper got his own ice cream cone. When we would go down in the Chevy, I mean, that was part of the big deal, he knew. She would say, Go get ice cream, go get ice cream,” and he would run and jump into the car in the front seat. He was there before any of us and that’s because he got his own ice cream. He just absolutely loved it.

I remember another thing, she always taught him this trick where she’d balance this tiny little twig or stick on the end of his nose. He would tilt his head back toss the stick in the air and catch it with his mouth. That’s just a little aside. He was a constant companion.

But when I think of Skipper, I’m reminded of the sad thing, too, that he passed away. I think he was thirteen or fourteen and I was in high school. I think it was on a Sunday afternoon--I think he might have passed away on Saturday night -- I came over here on Sunday afternoon and I buried him for Lou. It was a sad time. To my knowledge, she didn’t have another one after that because there wasn’t another Skipper. In fact I think people encouraged her to do it, but I think she felt she was beyond going through the process of raising another puppy, and so forth, but I buried Skipper.

She went inside. I didn’t want her to have to go through that. There was a big mound of earth next to the garage down by the bottom house. I think they now call it the Esta House, I’d always known it as Bottom House, and there was this big mound of earth and the purpose of that mound of earth was to keep cars from backing over the edge where that flat space was for the drive. And also they used it, or I got the feeling that they must have let her use it to fill in ruts in the drive, and so forth. But there was this huge amount of earth that had been there for a while and we discussed where she wanted him buried and she wanted him buried in there and so I dug a hole and we buried him there. For a while I thought it was good because there was this mound and it symbolized Skipper.

I don‘t know how long it stayed there. I noticed when I was coming up, it‘s not there any more so I don‘t know what happened to it.

Teka: We have a picture of you here as a little boy weaving, next to a piece you wove.

Phil: Yea. Obviously this was taken on mother’s couch here. Yes indeed, that’s me with the burr haircut-- very popular in those days. Although in this I did not seem to have my lederhosen on. When I came up here I always had my lederhosen on. I liked it and nobody teased me about it and they wore so well mama always enjoyed sending me up here [in them].

That’s something. I told you that we used to play-- I was just thinking about the lederhosen; at the top of Possum Path here there used to be a tree that had a cable on it. We always, not that it was any big deal, but we would always play, and it was very rough on ones clothes and that’s why mom always enjoyed me having the lederhosen on because mine would go from week to week and I managed to come back.

In fact, the story about the lederhosen was that the dirtier they got, the better off they were; it made them better instead of worse and we always used to joke, Tate, too, [that] they were supposed to get so dirty that they would stand up by themselves in a corner. She would laugh about that, but yea, this piece, obviously, mom’s kept.

This is something else you were asking me, about how Tate taught us. It’s got on here a tag. (showing the picture). It was always a big achievement. I mean it gave you a big sense of pride, even if you didn’t keep the pieces. [When] you did a piece and you ended up finishing it, they would take it to the ladies, who were the senior weavers, to stitch, I guess hem would be the proper term, to finish the piece after you’d done all the weaving. They would always take a label and I think it was printed: hand-woven by and then they’d type your name on it and then they would always iron it on to the piece.

I remember feeling pride of accomplishment that this might be sold to someone at some arts and crafts fair, or someone might come up here and buy it and on it was going to say: hand-woven by Philip Dunnagan. And that was the same of every kid here and, again, it would make you feel you were worth something, like you’d accomplished something. It was good. It was really good.

Ah yes, I’m just having fond memories here.

Side Two, Tape One

I believe I mentioned it, perhaps I didn’t, but it’s come to me now the fact that she used to run the place, but you were allowed to be innovative; she wanted you to be artistic and imaginative in terms of putting new colors together, and so on. But in terms of your behavior, we were here to learn how to weave and she would run this place. There was iron rule; I mean, beyond a certain point, there was no disruption, and she would explain it to us now that I recall.

I remember once we were out here on the gravel and were being too loud and were playing and having too much fun with each other and we were keeping the other kids from being able to concentrate on what it is that they were doing. You’ve heard it before in school, and so forth, but maybe, again, because of the fact that she treated you with respect or she treated you with this mutuality. It’s like, when she said it, she wasn’t just saying it because it was a reason to get you to stop what you were doing, but because it was a real reason why you shouldn‘t play. If you wanted to make a lot of noise and play you could go up on the hill or go someplace else. But while we were here we wanted to have fun and we wanted to have a good time, we wanted to enjoy ourselves and we wanted to learn, we wanted to create, but we didn’t want to be disruptive or silly or so on, but there was a certain point beyond which you didn’t go.

We’re still talking about the way that she used to teach us and I guess the best thing to do would be to try and remember how, I mean, I’ll just try to create in my mind a series of how this thing used to go.

You would come up here. You would get a loom, depending on where you were in terms of complexity. She would have different children--let’s say you’ve started a piece. The first thing you would do, you’d go to these little--not boxes, but I’ll just use the term, boxes, [with] different spools of yarn in them. And part of the whole process was: first you had to decide what you were going to do and then how much it was going to take to do that. She would force you to think through, but do it with you. Then she would take you over and you chose which colors you were going to use to put together in which portion of the piece. Then you would hold the colors against one another. That’s what I was talking about, the value of colors before, because she would talk about color values, and you would hold them next to one another and see whether or not you thought they were going to match. Then you would take them to Lou, and say, “Lou, is this going to be all right?” Sometimes she’d say yes or no, but most of the time she would leave it up to your judgment.

If you want to do this, then this; if you want to do that, then that and you’d end up making the final decision. And it was your own project. Then you would go and she would sometimes show you how to get started. And then once she got you started she would stay there with you at the beginning and she would help you. She would show you if you’re pulling it too tight in between when you would beat it, so that you weren’t making the edges too tight or too loose.

And, of course, the pedal exchange, she would make sure that you had it, you know, as you pass it through, change the pedal, beat it, pass it through, and so on, and make sure that you had it down and that you knew what you were doing.

If you had a multicolored situation when you were doing more than one shuttle, she would show you how to do that and let you go for a little while, stay with you to make sure you were doing it. Then she would let you go on your own. Of course, you could always stop what you were doing and go ask questions, or you could ask another weaver who was more advanced, or she would pass by and check on you periodically.

Often it was in here in the Loomhouse, and then later, one of the favorite things would be to weave outside in front of Top house, you know, the wind and the trees, and you’re outside, and it’s pleasant, and you’re weaving and changing and beating, and it was good.

And I was remembering that also, sometimes she would let some of the other children who were more advanced help you or show you what to do. Of course, the big thing was when you got to the point where you were advanced enough where you could show someone else. I was [also] just thinking about how, again, it would make you feel the importance and worth when she would have people come through, touring, and she would let you, as an eight or nine or ten year old, explain to these people what it was you were doing: how you were doing it, why you were beating, what happened when you did the pedal exchange again, and how you had to keep it even on the sides. And, you know, if you pulled too tight, and so on and so forth; and here you are explaining to some adult about weaving; it made me feel very important.

Of course, she would always take such pride in the fact that you were doing it and that you cared about it and you cared about something she cared about. There you were, you know, talking with authority, about weaving, explaining it to someone else. It was good. It was good.

Teka: As you said earlier, she also became a family friend.

Phil: Very much so, very much so. I mean, I loved her, there’s no other way to say it, I loved her. This leads me to several thoughts. One is that we’re very affectionate…here are the thoughts: here was this independent woman. She was--I used the term iron hand before; she had an iron will, because she wouldn’t let people, you know, bulldoze her stakes down and try to encroach on her property and she fought continually. I mean, she gave her life to this place, she gave her life to this concept. It was literally her life and she fought for it. She was this independent woman and that’s one image.

And then the other is this woman who was so loving. I told you the story earlier about when I was having a tantrum and she set certain parameters and one of the things I left out was when she told me that if I didn’t apologize, I couldn’t come back, and remorse started to set in… When I came back down the hill, I remember I was crying, I put my arms around her waist and I was crying, and saying how sorry I was. And that’s when she said that was fine and something to the effect that you just can’t act this way; in essence, letting me know what was expected of me in terms of behavior in general, and said I needed to go up and apologize to Ellen.

When I would see her, we would always hug and it was like she was an aunt, if you will. My mother is from Germany and my father died when I was three and in Germany even people who are not actually blood relatives, as a sign of respect; you call them aunt. I did not call her Aunt Tate, because everybody called her Tate or Lou. That’s just how it was and I was here several years before I realized her last name was Bousman. I always thought her name was Lou Tate. But, still, she was like a part of the family that we would see at certain times of the year, during Christmas celebration, back when she was feeling better, before she started having a hard time getting around.

She would go up to the Tennys, and I know I’m digressing away from Lou, but it was sort of part of the ambiance of this area for a time period when the Tennys lived up at this log cabin which was just up the hill from these three cabins. They used to be involved with the youth group at church and we used to have some just tremendous times and Tate would come in and partake in them.

I remember when it would snow we would have these tremendous sledding parties when they would put hurricane torch lamps down the hill a certain distance and we would sled from the top of the hill where Possum Path and Coon Trail intersected all the way down Coon Trail, turn on to a portion of Kenwood Hill Road and then on down until we got to Carolyn Road. Sometimes, if you had a really good one, you’d go across Kenwood Road and as far down as Esplanade, where Esplanade was down there. And then, of course, you’d have to walk all the way back.

But with a really good run, that’s how far you’d go. And we’d do this after a snow fall, I would say in the middle of the night, but, on the weekend. It would go on late into the night because you wouldn’t have to worry about the traffic problem And my point is that Lou would be up here, and she’d just be a part of it all. You know, they’d have warm cider and just tremendous fellowship. Lou would be up laughing and telling stories, I mean, she was just a loving, caring person. She was like part of the Tenny’s family and the Tennys were like our family.

The Tennys were like my second parents. So, yes, I considered her a family member. No question about it, I loved her very much, as did my mother. As you’re already aware from the previous oral history mom had lots of letters from Lou. I used to have some. I don’t think I have any now. Lou would talk about her trips where she had gone to Canada, and talk about her weaving, and so on and so forth. So there’s the love aspect.

And yet, on the other hand and I want to touch on this: there’s this strong, independent woman who, as I said, fought the fight to save this place. Also, independent in the sense that they always wanted Lou to… she took it to be, compromise. She was not much on compromise and she had strong beliefs. Not that she wasn’t tolerant, mind you, but when she came to a firm conviction about something, arguing with her was just a round about process, because if her mind was set, that was pretty much it, as far as she was concerned. And she had a certain idea about how weaving should be taught and how, you know, what the purpose of all this was, and what the by-product of all this should be, as well, in addition to just the weaving itself.

And I remember, not that I was directly involved in this, but numerous times would it come up in conversation with people who were involved in the Loomhouse that Lou had been approached about integrating her program with the public school system and she resisted it continually, because she was afraid that this place would lose its identity and that it would be swallowed up and that the program wouldn’t be run properly, because of the hugeness of integrating with something like that. It’s not that she might not have been willing to, but only on certain terms with which she could live with and not--she just couldn’t compromise. Certain things were too important to her and again, they were her life. She lived to further this way of life: to pass it on to people and she didn’t want it to be compromised.

OK, and another vane, something I thought of was, I don’t know, I guess the ambiance--a story, or event that came to mind was: in the winter months, Ellen Tenny, who, again, used to live in the log cabin house up here, was like my sister and she was working on a project to give to her mother. I believe the right term was serape, but it was like a shawl and it was multi-colored and it was a major project that took hours and hours of weaving. It was quite a lengthy piece and it had to be just right and there were so many different colors to coordinate the warp. She had to warp another loom in order to finish the project. I was just reminded, I don’t know, in terms of how it was.

Tate would heat these houses with stoves and I remember once we were up here at the Top house and Ellen was working at night and I believe I was down here because I didn’t want her to have to walk back home alone from here. And she was working, weaving, and it was cold and I recall that in order to work you had to be close to the stove. There was this little radius of warmth, this pocket of warmth, and everything else around was cold.

In fact, we’re sitting in the Top house now, [but] it’s so different, of course, it’s much more airy now, and open. Before, there used to be looms stacked on the walls and yarn all over the place, and the stove that’s there now is not the same stove that used to be there. I remember Ellen would be near it with her loom set up and weaving. If you went outside this door here; this glass door, out to the surrounding stone porch, inside of the building it would be very cold. You could see your breath and if you went downstairs, you could see your breath, and it was this ambiance.

There was this pocket of warmth and you’d be working, huddled over your loom and, of course, Tate would do this often times, too. She’d be up here working at various hours, again in this pocket of warmth [while] outside it was cold, but in around the stove, it was warm. As an aside, it was also that way down in Bottom house with the fireplace, when the fire was going. It would be warm around the fireplace; where the stoves were, it was warm. Elsewhere it was cooler as you got further from the perimeter, even in the same room.

It was not exactly the same, but it was like the stories in which you [were] told about the old cabins and [they had] places of warmth around the fireplace and elsewhere in the cabin, you were at a place where the temperature was going to be lower. And so it wasn’t unusual to wear sweaters. In some ways it was like Europe; they wore [sweaters] everyplace else in the house where it was cooler and they’d take them off when they were in the warm area. That was much the same in Tate’s place. That was one thing in terms of the ambiance.

Another thing that came to mind was when you were asking me about my family relationship with Tate and I thought of a few things since then: one was that I‘ve always really felt warmth towards Tate for introducing me to this; Tate was an avid reader and in the Bottom house, there were books everywhere and she read constantly. I don’t think she ever had a television set, to my knowledge. She had a radio, I believe. But she would read constantly and she introduced me to The Hobbit which, of course, in turn, introduced me to the Trilogy of the Rings.

Of course, for me at that time, I believe it was in high school, it was a fantasy world and was so fascinating. Tate would encourage you to--it wasn’t just weaving, she encouraged knowledge, she encouraged learning. I was just reaching out beyond just the area in which I knew. And I remember that this was one area in which she encouraged me to read the book.

We were down there for some social visit with the Tennys and I think Ellen was there, I’m not sure, Ellen may have been gone to college by that time, because she was one or two years ahead of me. And Tate, it could have been one of her chili suppers, although it wasn’t a large gathering, as I recall, in terms of a party. I was over at the couch next to the window and she encouraged me to read this book and I really wasn’t that interested necessarily in getting into a book at the time. But she just kept saying that if you start it you really are going to like it. Just press on for the first few pages and you’ll get hooked and, so, sure enough, it was a casual situation and they were talking and I went over and lay down on this old day bed, I guess is what you’d call it, next to the window, and started reading. And after I got through the first pages, I was hooked. I was half-way through the book by the time they had talked through the evening and were ready to go, and she let me keep it, take it with me, and, I always enjoyed that she introduced me to that sort of thing.

I remember Tate once gave me a present, or I remember that I was in the house one evening, maybe a social occasion, having dinner at Tate’s and I saw this old weapon. It turned out, it was an old Smith and Wesson. It was in a holster that had mildewed a little, actually. The weapon itself was a little bit pitted; it had [once] been nickeled. It was a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson and it was not loaded and the only reason she said she had it in the house was because it used to belong to her uncle, as I remember the story. It was either her uncle or great-uncle, but it was a relative of hers who used to carry it when he worked as a conductor, or-- whatever the proper term is--I won’t say engineer. But he was on the railroad and he had [the gun] because this was back in the days when people weren’t very fond of the railroads and had a tendency to shoot at people and at trains as they passed. And the folks on the trains would arm themselves and they would shoot back.

And that’s what he’d used this weapon for, to defend himself, when he was on the railroad. If someone took potshots at the car, at the caboose that he was riding in, as Tate called it, he would pull out the weapon and aim in the general direction from which the firing was coming, in essence, to suppress their desire to keep on shooting.

And I was always fascinated with it, and so finally, one day, as a present, she gave it to me. I can’t remember whether it was Christmas or birthday, but she just let me have it. Then later, we had it re-Nike led, if you will. As another birthday present, I remember later, it was re-nickeled as a project so it would not be pitted and would look nice. And I still have it now.

And the other thing is that when Tate couldn’t make it to the wedding, I believe I mentioned earlier that there was that second letter in 1975 when she was talking about the lawsuits, and so forth, and part of what she said was that she couldn’t make it to the wedding and she wanted to have a picnic for us. Later in the summer she gave, as a wedding present to my former wife, Karen, and myself a partial set of Limoges [china] that had belonged to her aunt or great-aunt, and she just wanted us to have it.

And it was like Tate, always to give [what she had] and not go out to buy something. I suppose partially because she didn’t have the money, but because it was closer to give something that belonged to her, you know, to pass it on to people that she cared for. I mean I was really honored that she gave me the china. I was really pleased. I didn’t really expect--it wasn’t really necessary that she give us anything. It was nice.

Teka: What are you going to remember most about Lou Tate?

Phil: I’m just thinking about it now. And I’m remembering Tate right now. And I suppose the first thing that comes to mind is her laugh, and I used the term earlier: mirth, the twinkle in her eye when she laughed and how merry she could be when she was being that way.

I translate that also to how loving she could be and how much I loved her. But, I suppose, in terms of, other than remembering that she could be that way and what effect that’ll have on me, was her principles and I don’t think that’s a term I’ve used up till now. But she had principles and she had things that she believed in and she was, I don’t mean to be negative, but she was uncompromising in certain things that were important to her. I talked to her about values; she taught me about certain values and she didn’t just--I guess that’s it, more that anything.

I look at these three cabins and I realize that they pass away. But she stood for the fact that she took a stand as to what her life was going to be about and whether it was mighty or small, whether it was in some peoples eyes worth something or not, it was worth something to her. And she spent her whole life living that stand, living that idea, and if I would remember most [important thing] about Lou Tate; it is just a concept that someone decides what’s important to them and then they try to spend the rest of their life living that decision. And I don’t know even if she entered into it consciously. I don’t know if she said, this is important to me and I’m going to do it, but somewhere along the line, that developed. And when it did she stood by it.

End of Tape One, Side Two

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