From Our Listeners

Letters: Coe State Park Hollerin'

  • Playlist
  • Download
  • Embed
    <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript

Melissa Block and Robert Siegel read emails from listeners about Coe State Park in California and hollerin' contests in North Carolina.


From NPR News, this is ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. I'm Robert Siegel.


And I'm Melissa Block. It's time now for your letters. First about my trip to Henry Coe State Park in Northern California. I went hiking with Dan McCranie. He's a wealthy businessman who's committed about three-quarters of a million dollars to help keep the park open after state budget cuts threatened it with closure.

DAN MCCRANIE: I'll be 69 here pretty shortly. And all of us, I think, start thinking about just what you're going to do with the excess, and I just can't think of a better thing to do than to preserve this park.

SIEGEL: Jim Davis of Lititz, Pennsylvania, is grateful for McCranie's efforts. He writes: I hope that my heartfelt thanks and appreciation reach Mr. McCranie. I may never visit Henry Coe, but his actions to save the park are appreciated nonetheless.

BLOCK: And Kathleen Callahan of Hebron, Connecticut, writes that she was reminded of large donations people give to superPACs. She writes: Whether it's a Democratic or Republican donation for a superPAC, one can just be saddened by how many years this particular park could exist from donations such as those. That legacy would mean so much more to so many people than the ridiculous money wasted to smear a candidate.

SIEGEL: Now, some hollering.


SIEGEL: We reported this week on the 44th Annual National Hollering Championship in Spivey's Corner, North Carolina. And, Melissa, we all know you're a huge hollering fan.

BLOCK: It's true. I am.

SIEGEL: Here's some more.


BLOCK: How great is that? Well, Don Garland Jr. of Baton Rouge said our story took him back to his own hollering days growing up in northern Louisiana. He writes: The hollers were not as elaborate as those on the show, never more than four syllables and usually one or two, but they carried long distances telling us who was in the woods, where and if they needed us to come to them. Today, I work in a chemical plant in Baton Rouge where I occasionally still use my old holler.

We all wear hearing protection due to the noise of compressors, pumps and blowers. If I need to get the attention of someone a couple of hundred yards away, a loud, high-pitched holler will cut through the din and make heads snap my way.

SIEGEL: Well, if you have something to say to us, take your pick, either holler as loud as you can and hope that we hear you or go to and click on Contact Us.

Copyright © 2012 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at for further information.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by a contractor for NPR, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio.



Please keep your community civil. All comments must follow the Community rules and terms of use, and will be moderated prior to posting. NPR reserves the right to use the comments we receive, in whole or in part, and to use the commenter's name and location, in any medium. See also the Terms of Use, Privacy Policy and Community FAQ.

NPR thanks our sponsors

Become an NPR sponsor

Support comes from