By Dr. Curtis Varnell
We were miles from civilization, traveling on four-wheelers to the far east end of Rich Mountain in Logan County, Arkansas. Dr. Wilson, a friend and visiting professor from Texas A/M university, wanted to visit the stone carvings that I had discovered some time previously. Reaching the end of the trail, we exited the vehicles and began to descend the steep incline to the bench below. The sun, a blazing marshmallow moments before, began to sink into oblivion in the west and the night creatures began their nightly orchestra. Tree frogs, katy-did, cicada’s, and myriad other insects joined the mournful sounds of a hoot owl. Dr. Wilson looked startled. tracing his flashlight around in the darkness. “This would be a scary experience for people from my home, he stated, It’s so noisy.” I had never noticed, it was just the sound of growing up in Arkansas.
Recently, thinking of that event, my mind drifted to the various sounds that defined Arkansas and our history and culture. Three blasts on the huge curling goat horn echo through the cattail and cottonwood trees that line the bank at the intersection of Vache Grass creek and the Arkansas River. Local Indian tribes, alerted by the sound, drifted to the landing and awaited the arrival of French fur traders. In the late 16th century, a brisk trade existed between the two groups with the French trading beads, metal utensils, and gunpowder for hides and meat that would be delivered down-river to New Orleans. Fast forward to Christmas of 1817 at Belle Point one would hear the bite of the ax and the thunder of falling trees as Major William Bradford and his small band constructed the first Fort Smith.
Horrible, bitter sounds echoed across Arkansas in the 1860’s. A border state, the Civil War caused some of the most uncivil acts as neighbors and families fought over the issues of slavery and states rights. Cannons bellowed, throwing shot and gusts of dense smoke across battlefields at Pea Ridge, West-Helena, and Prairie Groove. The rebel cry and the sounds of angry men dying for a lost cause filled the air as the two sides clashed on the battlefield. Even more terrible were the wailing of the widows and children caught up in the burning, looting, and destruction of their way of life.
The span between the ending of the war and 1900 was the golden age of the railroad. The metallic ring of iron on iron echoed across Arkansas as rail was laid and spikes driven. Steam engines bellowed into town, ringing the bell and tooting the train whistle to alert inhabitants that a new age of travel had arrived. Not many years later, the automobile arrived with much the same fanfare and the sounds of the car horn and traffic followed soon after.
In the 1950’s and 60’s, Arkansas voiced the same sounds of protest that was shaking our country. Social protests at Little Rock Central changed the face of education in Arkansas and the nation and student voices joined the national protest against the Vietnam War.
Arkansas defined itself as the natural state, made so by our many waterways. No sound is more peaceful than the tinkling of water as it tumbles over the rocks in our many streams. In the 1960’s, the thunderous and powerful sound of falling water running through the gates of the many dams constructed as a part of the McClellan-Kerr navigation system created electrical power and recreational lakes across the state. Not so pleasant, beginning in the mid-1970’s was the huge shrill warning sirens set up by Arkansas Nuclear One as we came of the nuclear age. The last century has brought big changes to the state. Arkansas is not without its urban areas and the sounds associated with it. Pulaski County and the Fayetteville/Springdale, Bentonville area buzz with the roar of traffic as big sixteen-wheelers and thousands of cars pass travel down the interstate.
The sounds of Arkansas; there are so many that express who we are as a people and state. The soothing sounds of Johnny Cash or Glenn Campbell as they sing, the roar of fans as they call the hogs, the half-time programs of the U/A Pine Bluff marching band, the bugle of the elk at Ponca- these are the sounds that make up our state and who we are.
