The Pocahontas Times devotes considerable space to readers' tall tales about panthers in the West Virginia hills—two elaborate accounts of near-encounters with the big cats that turn out to be false alarms. C. P. Collins recalls a coon hunt fifty-two years prior near Hosterman where his dogs chased something up a hemlock that made "awfulest yells" before escaping into laurel thickets. An even better yarn comes from "J. M. A.," who describes camping under a hemlock tree on Williams River when he and a friend heard mysterious scratching in the darkness—certain it was a panther sharpening its claws. After hours of dread (including a prayer requesting the Lord not to help "that cat"), he discovers the culprit: a maple branch vibrating against their fire's smoke. The piece reflects a community still swapping frontier stories in 1927. Meanwhile, on the business front, Marlinton's Business Men's Cooperative Association organizes to court the United States Leather Company, which is considering rebuilding its tannery—a critical economic hope for the struggling coal-region town. The paper also reports on Henry M. Smith's death at 42, a railroad man who devoted himself to station work during the lumber boom.

By 1927, the great timber and coal booms that built Appalachian towns like Marlinton were fading fast. Communities were desperately scrambling to attract new industry—hence the organized business association trying to woo the leather tannery back. The panther stories reveal something deeper: these were communities still rooted in frontier mythology even as they modernized, clinging to tall tales as cultural identity. The region was entering a long economic decline that would define the 20th century, making the paper's optimistic tone about industrial recruitment poignant in retrospect. These small-town papers were crucial to maintaining civic identity and hope during uncertain times.

• The estate of C. M. Elliott was liquidated in bankruptcy court, with his farm selling for $3,025—liens paid in full and creditors receiving a 27.10 percent dividend. This quiet notice reflects the financial distress rippling through the region even before the stock market crash two months away.
• An artesian well near Hinton struck medicinal water at 180 feet depth, claimed to be beneficial for diabetes treatment—and Congressman Hughes personally leased it, suggesting even politicians were chasing health-cure schemes during this era.
• The West Virginia College of Agriculture distributed a 52-page circular on sheep raising, emphasizing that wool sales constituted 'about 20 to 25 per cent of sales returns from the average flock'—showing farmers were pivoting from timber to agriculture as primary income.
• A short football game between Ansted and Marlinton ended in a 7-7 tie, prompting the sardonic question: 'That is the way a tie game count, Is it not'—suggesting local sports were still novelties worthy of editorial commentary.
• The opening of the piece features an elaborate logic puzzle asking readers to calculate a woman's age based on nine children born three years apart—a form of reader engagement that predates the internet by nearly a century.

• The paper mentions Jerome Bonaparte, Napoleon's youngest brother, marrying Baltimore socialite Elizabeth Patterson in 1803—a detail buried in a historical romance column. What's wild: this was a genuine scandal that nearly brought Napoleon's wrath down on American diplomacy; the marriage was annulled by Napoleon himself, and Elizabeth Patterson never saw her husband again, yet their descendants would become prominent American families.
• The Business Men's Cooperative Association resolution promises the leather company 'fair taxation' and sewage infrastructure—yet within two years, the Great Depression would devastate such industrial recruitment efforts. The optimism here is heartbreaking knowing what's coming in October 1929.
• West Virginia was distributing purebred rams via a 'ram special' train tour of sheep sections—an example of state agricultural extension work that transformed rural America in the 1920s, though largely forgotten today.
• Dr. Herman W. Bundesen, the Chicago health commissioner mentioned as keynote speaker for the state health conference, was a nationally prominent figure fighting infectious disease; his presence in this small-town paper shows how public health professionalization was reaching even rural Appalachia.
• The paper mentions Congressman Hughes leasing the medicinal well—a reminder that in the 1920s, before FDA regulation took hold, mineral springs and 'medicinal waters' were still respectable attractions, exploited by everyone from local farmers to sitting congressmen.