To even those remotely familiar with American folklore the name John Henry rings out louder than any nine-pound hammer clanking against the solid earth. The exploits of this legendary "steel-driving man" have been told and retold in both song and story for generations. It is a tale that endures the test of time, and one that surely will be told for countless decades to come.


Did anybody ever know John Henry? Did such a man ever really walk the line of the C&O railroad? Many are inclined to think so; however, these opinions are greatly divided. But regardless of whether or not John Henry actually lived and breathed his impact cannot be overstated. For the very notion of John Henry conjures thoughts of strength, courage, perseverance, etc. and all the sort of qualities that make one a legend. A very condensed version of his classic story what follows here:


“A comparatively short time ago the general method of rock drilling was by hand, two men with striking hammers hitting a drill held by a third man. This method was varied somewhat, using a ball drill or, for shallow holes, one man using a hammer and a drill. This made a demand for good "steel drivers," as the men were called in many sections of the country. Many negroes in the South excelled at this work, singing as they used their hammers, keeping time with the rapid swing of hammer and the ring of the steel on the hard rock. The story they sang told of a well-built negro named John Henry, who told his father, as a boy, that the hammer would be the death of him, his ambition being to become an expert steel driver. As a young man he learned this work and became so proficient with the hammer. At last he got a job driving steel on The Big Bend Tunnel, where the contractor also installed a steam drill. John Henry said he could drive a hole and beat the stream drill. So the test was made. John Henry drove furiously and won, but died of the effort. So the negroes tell this story in their song, bringing into it frequently, "If I could drive like big John Henry."”

— Daniel J. Hauer, "Types of Machines for Rock Drilling and Channeling, Comments on Drills for the Use of Contractors and Quarrymen and on Channeling Machines," The Contractor, Vol. XXII, No. 11, Whole No. 433, December 15, 1915, Chicago

For the unacquainted, the Big Ben Tunnel is located just south of the unincorporated community of Talcott, West Virginia and is an extension of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway.

On a personal note, like Talcott, I too hail from an unincorporated community, in fact, just three hours east of John Henry's final resting place in the County of Louisa, Virginia. It is an area steeped in a definite bit of folklore and history. For it is there, just a little ways from where I grew up, Henry "Box" Brown shut himself in a crate and mailed his way to freedom. Likewise, just slightly north, George Washington spent the night at Jerdone Castle awakening on the same day as my birth nearly 200 years before. And, even still, each night, before I would close my eyes, I could hear the soothing sounds of a train whistle blowing along the C&O railroad, the very same tracks that according to legend John Henry helped lay.

And the chances are if you take a good look at where you live, you'll probably find a lot of folklore and history there too.

See, John Henry is more than a symbol of strength or endurance but of many things. He is uniquely an American symbol and an icon of American folklore. But he is also a emblem of African-American culture and of the working-class. And, even still, he is representative of freedmen and/or of the convict labor system, which brought slavery back under a different name, depending on any number of interpretations.

But the point to be made is that there is still one more very important aspect to be seen when viewing the story of John Henry. It is a thing, which is so often understated, overlooked, but which is nonetheless crucial to the understanding of the character.

When a good many people view John Henry's story the thing they see most is themselves.

See, the reason folkheroes endure, the reason they become more than just another individual, is that we seen in them a reflection. Now, this is not always of our actualized selves but oftentimes it is an extension of who we wish to be. Ultimately, John Henry, for instance, embodies mettle in the face of struggle, the courage to face it and the resilience to see it through. While there are few today who are steel-drivers everyone regardless or sex, color or creed has their steam-drill.

And in life we can either let our steam-drill run us down or like John stand and die fighting.

I have read through much John Henry analysis, and so often do I find while the conclusions are not unsound they are deeply and tragically impersonal. Too often are they written from a distance and hit a thousand miles away from the heart. Believe me when I tell you this, I would much rather never attain perfect structure and grammar than ever submit myself to those hollow and frigid wastes of academia so many among the learned are apt to travel.

For behind every story there are lessons intellect alone cannot unravel, and folklore is for the feeling. At last [in 1895, in Florida] they arrived at the convict mines where Blackie learned to wheel wheel-barrows, pound steel and hold steel for negro prisoners while they hummed these prison songs:

If I miss this steel I'm driving
          I'll kill you dead, kill you dead.
Nine-pound hammer killed John Henry,
          Gona' kill me, boys, gona' kill me.

The above verse is one of many that the negro prisoners sang at their work to while away the time. Thirty days after his arrival we find him with blisters on his hands and blisters on his feet; with only the bare floor of the caliboose [the prison] for a bed at night and a bundle of Spanish moss for a pillow. Surely the way of the transgressor is hard.

Did they make a better man out of Blackie by throwing him in jail and keeping him there for three months, and then sending him to the convict mines? I think not. We seldom make a good man out of a youth by throwing him in jail for some trifling offense or sending him to a chain-gang or convict mine where he has to associate with hardened criminals. When John Henry was a little shaver [young lad], he found some little chicks that had been put by the fire in a pail for warmth and, taking a hammer, he churned them to a fine pulp. JOHN HENRY, he wus a steel-drivin' man.
          He died wid his hammer in his han'.
O come long boys, an' line up de track,
          For John Henry, he hain't never comin' back.

JOHN HENRY, he was a steel-drivin' man.
          He died with his hammer in his hand.
Oh come along boys, an' line up the track,
          For John Henry, he ain't never comin' back.

John Henry said to his Cappun: "Boss,
          A man hain't nothin' but a man,
An' 'fore I'll beat in dis sexion gang,
          I'll die wid a hammer in my han'."

John Henry said to his Captain: "Boss,
          A man ain't nothin' but a man,
An' before I'll beat in this section gang,
          I'll die with a hammer in my hand."

John Henry, he had a liddle boy,
          He helt 'im in de pam of his han';
An' de las' word he say to day chile wus:
          "I wants you to be my steel-drivin' man."

John Henry, he had a little boy,
          He held 'em in the palm of his hand;
An' the last word he say to the child was:
          "I wants you to be my steel-drivin' man."

John Henry, he had a pretty liddle wife,
          An' her name, it wus Polly Ann.
She walk down de track, widout lookin' back,
          For to see her big fine steel-drivin' man.

John Henry, he had a pretty little wife,
          An' her name, it was Polly Ann.
She walk down the track, without lookin' back,
          For to see her big fine steel-drivin' man.

John Henry had dat pretty liddle wife,
          An' she went all dress up in red.
She walk ev'y day down de railroad track
          To de place whar her steel-drivin' man fell dead.

John Henry had that pretty little wife,
          An' she went all dress up in red.
She walk every day down the railroad track
          To the place where her steel-drivin' man fell dead.



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