Carl is buried in the Davis Cemetary located on the original family farm of Thomas and Mary Davis. A brass plaque serves as a marker, engraved and installed by Billie, son of Uncle Curt Davis.


SADNESS ON THE "HILL"

July 1937 , Beechy Ridge,Clay County,WV.

The death of a loved one has always been a sad event, but when young, kind-hearted Carl Davis lost his life in a farming accident, the whole community grieved. Carl was one of Will Davis' boys and had been home just a few days on furlough from the Civilian Conservation Corps. The young man had been a member of the Corps for a couple of years working on state parks, helping to plant trees, and fighting forest fires. The work was hard but worthwhile; his food, clothing, and a place to live were provided. He was paid little money but the travel and getting to see a lot of the country, Carl thought he would stay in the Corps a few more years. But now he was home and had another week to enjoy.

It was early Sunday morning and Carl had gone to the barn to fed the livestock. He entered a stall where one of the mules was standing, probably dozing. To reach the feed bin, Carl had to move the mule, so he said, "Stand around, Jack". Instantly, the animal kicked with both rear feet and struck Carl in the stomach, apparently causing extensive internal injury and bleeding.

Paul, Carl's younger brother, ran the half mile to the King's house, for help. As soon as Herbert understood what was wrong, he drove to the Davis' home,got the injured young man in his car,and started to the hospital. Unfortunately, a large tree had fallen across the road and precious time was consumed, locating another carrier. When the vehicle arrived, Carl was transferred and finally continued his forty mile trip to a hospital in Charleston (WV).

Sadly, Carl died three days later, and his body brought back to the "HILL" for his wake and funeral. The wake lasted all night, and as Carl lay in his coffin in one room, mourners spent the long night spinning tall tales, drinking coffee, and recalling humorous events in the youth's short life. That was typical of wakes then and was meant to celebrate the life of the loved one. All the mirth was gone though, when it came time for the funeral, and friends and loved ones revealed the depth of their loss.

This story is courtesy of the Herb King family as told in the book, "Memories of the Hill".