McIntosh was a community which lived by the whistle.
My family homestead was less than two miles from the Atlantic Coastline railroad where it crossed the Old Sunbury Road. The Sunbury road is the first roadway into the interior of Colonial Georgia. When I was a small boy I remember hearing the sounds of the trains passing through McIntosh and the whistle at the largest of several sawmill operations positioned in the tiny community.
The entire community lived by the whistle. If there was a disaster such as a fire at the mill or a home burning nearby there was a certian whistle code which was known by residents. This series of toots done with an almost musical rythem alerted the community of the impending disaster. It was usually a fire on the millyard.
Fires burned continuously throughout the forties and fifties as the gigantic sawdust piles were burning endlessly as well as the slab pile. Steam clouds also could be seen wafting into the sky from the boiler behind the planner mill. Steam was the source of the sound of the whistle. The boiler was located at the rear of the millyard but the whistle was visible from all around because it stood high above the boiler complex on a pipe which I'd estimate was probably about two or three inches in diameter.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Our first family automobile was a blue 1941 Ford Tudor Coupe. It was purchased from Hinesville Ford in 1946. Until recently I had been of the impression that it was a 1946 but I now know that the 1941 and 1946 Fords were almost identical. It seems that sometime in 1941 or 1942 the automobile industry in America ceased building civilian vehicles in order to convert their factories for building Military vehicles for the war effort.
I remember the day Daddy brought the car home and I was three years old. Now some 67 years later I am seventy years old and although I am not as steady on my feet as times past I still enjoy near excellent health. I suspect that is the result of the time in which I have lived and the conditions of that existence.
Glad that I can recall the old days at the Homer Smith homestead in McIntosh. We did not own an automobile for the first three years of my life and my Mama never drove a vehicle until after my Daddy's death in 1973. In the old days of the mid to late forties there were only a few people who owned their own vehicles. I remember Daddy driving a company truck home from work in the evenings.
I remember the day Daddy brought the car home and I was three years old. Now some 67 years later I am seventy years old and although I am not as steady on my feet as times past I still enjoy near excellent health. I suspect that is the result of the time in which I have lived and the conditions of that existence.
Glad that I can recall the old days at the Homer Smith homestead in McIntosh. We did not own an automobile for the first three years of my life and my Mama never drove a vehicle until after my Daddy's death in 1973. In the old days of the mid to late forties there were only a few people who owned their own vehicles. I remember Daddy driving a company truck home from work in the evenings.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
We lived on the edge of a swamp on a parcel of land beside the highway which was less than thirty feet above sea level I think. Often our vegetable garden would flood and perish as a result of too much water. My Daddy could make very shallow trenches across the yard and you would see the tiny streams make there way from one basin to another and gradually dry up a spot which had formally been standing water. Daddy had a gift for seeing the rise and fall of terrain and I inherited that gift from him. Actually that is one of two gifts I inherited from Daddy, the other being the love for trees and the interest in planting them. Later I will dwell on planting trees but for now I want to tell about my water park which I enjoy still.
As I've stated before the Homer and Irene Smith homestead was carved from the eastern portion of the Quarterman estate. Apparently the Quartermans decided to sell four lots fronting on the highway and each being one acre. They were each one hundred feet wide at the front and a little over four hundred feet deep. A square acre is 208.7 by 208.7.
My Grandma lived in a house in the first of the four lots and we lived in a house in the fourth of the four lots. Fraser Lumber Co. Purchased the lot where my family lived sometime before my birth in 1943. Drinking water was provided by the well at the Quarterman house. A galvanized pipe line ran under the field which separated Grandma's house from the Quarterman place. that line supplied water to both Grandma and to us as well. We did not have an indoor bathroom until I was about four or five. It was somewhere around that age that Daddy purchased the two lots in the middle and we had a well drilled on the land beside Grandma's house. I've always been told that the well was seven hundred feet deep. It was heavily sulfur and I never knew that there was anything wrong with that. People who were not accustomed to that water often declined to drink it. Our family all enjoyed very good health and to this day I believe that well water contributed to that fact.
At any rate when the well was finished we had an abundance of fresh cold water as the natural pressure forced a constant overflow which ran down beside Grandma's driveway and emptied into the ditch beside the highway. Our homestead had always been subject to hold water as the terrain was low and now there was a constant flow of water discharging into the ditch. It made for the absolutely most marvelous thing for a little boy to grow up with. I've spent my entire life playing in ditches and building toy boats and creating dams so as to make waterfalls.
As I've stated before the Homer and Irene Smith homestead was carved from the eastern portion of the Quarterman estate. Apparently the Quartermans decided to sell four lots fronting on the highway and each being one acre. They were each one hundred feet wide at the front and a little over four hundred feet deep. A square acre is 208.7 by 208.7.
My Grandma lived in a house in the first of the four lots and we lived in a house in the fourth of the four lots. Fraser Lumber Co. Purchased the lot where my family lived sometime before my birth in 1943. Drinking water was provided by the well at the Quarterman house. A galvanized pipe line ran under the field which separated Grandma's house from the Quarterman place. that line supplied water to both Grandma and to us as well. We did not have an indoor bathroom until I was about four or five. It was somewhere around that age that Daddy purchased the two lots in the middle and we had a well drilled on the land beside Grandma's house. I've always been told that the well was seven hundred feet deep. It was heavily sulfur and I never knew that there was anything wrong with that. People who were not accustomed to that water often declined to drink it. Our family all enjoyed very good health and to this day I believe that well water contributed to that fact.
At any rate when the well was finished we had an abundance of fresh cold water as the natural pressure forced a constant overflow which ran down beside Grandma's driveway and emptied into the ditch beside the highway. Our homestead had always been subject to hold water as the terrain was low and now there was a constant flow of water discharging into the ditch. It made for the absolutely most marvelous thing for a little boy to grow up with. I've spent my entire life playing in ditches and building toy boats and creating dams so as to make waterfalls.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
The Quarterman estate was originally all of that area from John Mann road on the western side to my families homestead on the eastern side. The Old Sunbury Road was the boundary on the southern side and the Goshen swamp surrounded the northern side. The Quarterman family divided the property and Mr. Henry Rahn, who married Helen Quarterman and thus was son-in-law to the Quartermans, became owner of the western portion of the estate. They divided some of their land and there were four homestead sites created. From the highway on John Mann road the first homestead was owned by Herbert and Guy Down's parents. Herbert was a year or so older than me and Guy was exactly one year younger than me as we were both born on the third of April.
The second homestead was the Bill Peyton family who were my Aunt and Uncle. They had four children John L., Virginia, Allison and Diane. Behind aunt Netherae's (Bill Peyton's) was the home of the Easton family and then the Selph family. Beyond that was the sandpit and as the road twisted and turned into a virtual causeway as it crossed the channel of the Goshen. There were two bridges constructed of logs taken from cypress trees in the swamp. The sandpit was our playground and beyond that was the ever beautiful swamp. I regret that the swamp was drained in the name of progress in 1973 and 74. Until that time the swamp had never (in my lifetime) been dry. However at the time of the draining of the Goshen it had ceased to hold as much water because the many flowing wells in our area had gradually ceased to flow naturally after Interstate Paper Co. opened in the late sixties.
The area was always wet and standing water was a constant battle for residents. My very earliest memories are of watching Daddy digging shallow trenches connecting all of the puddles and ultimately directing the runoff to the ditch alongside the highway. The big red Quarterman house was positioned on the highest point of elevation and the sea level dropped steadily in our direction as our house was positioned on the lowest elevation of the four one acre lots on the eastern part of the Quarterman property.
The second homestead was the Bill Peyton family who were my Aunt and Uncle. They had four children John L., Virginia, Allison and Diane. Behind aunt Netherae's (Bill Peyton's) was the home of the Easton family and then the Selph family. Beyond that was the sandpit and as the road twisted and turned into a virtual causeway as it crossed the channel of the Goshen. There were two bridges constructed of logs taken from cypress trees in the swamp. The sandpit was our playground and beyond that was the ever beautiful swamp. I regret that the swamp was drained in the name of progress in 1973 and 74. Until that time the swamp had never (in my lifetime) been dry. However at the time of the draining of the Goshen it had ceased to hold as much water because the many flowing wells in our area had gradually ceased to flow naturally after Interstate Paper Co. opened in the late sixties.
The area was always wet and standing water was a constant battle for residents. My very earliest memories are of watching Daddy digging shallow trenches connecting all of the puddles and ultimately directing the runoff to the ditch alongside the highway. The big red Quarterman house was positioned on the highest point of elevation and the sea level dropped steadily in our direction as our house was positioned on the lowest elevation of the four one acre lots on the eastern part of the Quarterman property.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Yesterday I received a call from Tommy Rahn an old friend and neighbor who lived in a nice home which was located at what is currently the main entrance to the Liberty County High School. Tommy is the Grandson of Mr Quarterman who lived in the big red two story structure which many will remember as the Kozma house. Tommy told me that originally the Quarterman family and the Rahn family owned all of the land from the highway to the swamp from my Fathers place on the east to John Mann road on the west. I would guess that distance to be just over a half mile. I don't know how many acres it would compute to be. I imagine it would bee more than sixty acres but not a hundred. When I discover a more accurate estimate I will inject it into a future writing on this matter.
Not trying to inject anything into this writing but the fact is that when a traveler passed through Hinesville on the way east the Homer Smith homestead would be the last occupied by white people before approaching the McIntosh community which was composed of predominantly Negros as they were referred to at that time. I feel like I might just as well clear the air on this matter as the entire world seems to get "hung up" on political correctness these days. I simply had the experience of growing up with my Grandma being our neighbor to the west and all beyond her were white until you reached the western edge of Hinesville a distance of about seven or eight miles.
On the other hand when traveling east after passing the Smith homestead all of the neighbors were black until you reached the railroad which bisected the McIntosh community at a right angle with the Old Sunbury road which also bisected the community. You might say that McIntosh community was clustered around the crossroads of the highway and the railroad. My childhood and early adulthood was a time of racial segregation of white and colored people.
On the eastern side of our place our next door neighbor was the Perry family. Their house was located less than 150 feet from our back porch. The Perry's owned a five acre tract which rested between the road and swamp and the original Quarterman place and the Octavia Sullivan place. The Perry's were excellent neighbors and all to the best of my knowledge became good citizens and many of their descendents are still active in our area.
The Perry family as I knew it was the Mother Martha and several sons and daughters and their home was simply a structure of pine wood framed square divided into four rooms with a gable parallel with the highway. There was a front porch with a shed roof which was a few feet inset on either side so that the porch itself was about two thirds as wide as the house. The front door was just to the left of center so that when you entered you were in the left front of the four rooms. The four rooms were clustered around a chimney which was placed near the center of the house. Attached to the rear of the house was a small uncovered wooden platform at their back door. Their icebox was on that deck.
As I sit here thinking of these reflections of my childhood it suddenly strikes me as being almost unbelieveable to say that I recall a time when we had no refrigeration but I most certainly do remember just exactly that. In my earliest recollections I remember seeing the green ford truck which Mr Butler drove coming down the road with the heavy canvass cover protecting the load of ice from the wind and sun. On ice day I would see Mr Butler as he stopped by the Downs house first and then the Rahn's, Quarterman's, Grandma's and then into our driveway delivering to each household and after leaving our house he went next door to the Perry house and then proceded toward the mill. The ice truck did not go to every house because some people did not have ice boxes. I suppose I speak of about 1946 or most certainly 1947 and I suspect that I remember some things from 1945 when I would have been two years old. As I write these thoughts I am drawn back into time.
I do not know how far back my memory reaches. June and I have often discussed our early recollections as we traveled together up the road of life.I say up the road because we were getting older so we were going up the road towards "FOOLS HILL" for some.
Not trying to inject anything into this writing but the fact is that when a traveler passed through Hinesville on the way east the Homer Smith homestead would be the last occupied by white people before approaching the McIntosh community which was composed of predominantly Negros as they were referred to at that time. I feel like I might just as well clear the air on this matter as the entire world seems to get "hung up" on political correctness these days. I simply had the experience of growing up with my Grandma being our neighbor to the west and all beyond her were white until you reached the western edge of Hinesville a distance of about seven or eight miles.
On the other hand when traveling east after passing the Smith homestead all of the neighbors were black until you reached the railroad which bisected the McIntosh community at a right angle with the Old Sunbury road which also bisected the community. You might say that McIntosh community was clustered around the crossroads of the highway and the railroad. My childhood and early adulthood was a time of racial segregation of white and colored people.
On the eastern side of our place our next door neighbor was the Perry family. Their house was located less than 150 feet from our back porch. The Perry's owned a five acre tract which rested between the road and swamp and the original Quarterman place and the Octavia Sullivan place. The Perry's were excellent neighbors and all to the best of my knowledge became good citizens and many of their descendents are still active in our area.
The Perry family as I knew it was the Mother Martha and several sons and daughters and their home was simply a structure of pine wood framed square divided into four rooms with a gable parallel with the highway. There was a front porch with a shed roof which was a few feet inset on either side so that the porch itself was about two thirds as wide as the house. The front door was just to the left of center so that when you entered you were in the left front of the four rooms. The four rooms were clustered around a chimney which was placed near the center of the house. Attached to the rear of the house was a small uncovered wooden platform at their back door. Their icebox was on that deck.
As I sit here thinking of these reflections of my childhood it suddenly strikes me as being almost unbelieveable to say that I recall a time when we had no refrigeration but I most certainly do remember just exactly that. In my earliest recollections I remember seeing the green ford truck which Mr Butler drove coming down the road with the heavy canvass cover protecting the load of ice from the wind and sun. On ice day I would see Mr Butler as he stopped by the Downs house first and then the Rahn's, Quarterman's, Grandma's and then into our driveway delivering to each household and after leaving our house he went next door to the Perry house and then proceded toward the mill. The ice truck did not go to every house because some people did not have ice boxes. I suppose I speak of about 1946 or most certainly 1947 and I suspect that I remember some things from 1945 when I would have been two years old. As I write these thoughts I am drawn back into time.
I do not know how far back my memory reaches. June and I have often discussed our early recollections as we traveled together up the road of life.I say up the road because we were getting older so we were going up the road towards "FOOLS HILL" for some.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I said earlier that Georgia was an open range state until 1953 I believe. I'm not certain about the year that "the fence law" was enacted but I think it was 1953. At any rate I would have been 10 years old in 53 and if I had been allowed as well as encouraged to shoot Mrs Rahn's cows to drive them out onto the highway ditches before the repeal of "open range" I must have gotten my first BB gun when I was about seven years old because some later year I got a more powerful BB gun a Daisy Pump. I know I received the 410 for Christmas in the sixth grade for a Christmas present from Santa. I was six when I started first grade and I would have turned twelve in the spring of my sixth year of school.
When I was in sixth grade there was a nice family boarding with Grandma in the Greenhouse. The Walkers had come from Sanford, Fla and they had two little boys who were about two and three years younger than me. Johnny Walker and his wife Billie with her two sons Butch and Bubba Mills had come to live with Grandma the year before sixth grade and they lived here for about two years. Their presence next door would bring a whole new world to a young Jimmy Smith. As it turned out Johnny had been a young associate of Billie and her husband who owned a pawn shop in Sanford and they also owned a nice country home on the out skirts of town. They moved to McIntosh to rent half of Grandma's house while Johnny fulfilled his two year enlistment in the Army. It seems that Mr Mills had died at a young age and left Billie and two little boys without a father. Johnny had been from a very poor family (simply a Florida cracker) and had worked for Mr Mills in his business interest before his death. When Mr Mills died Johnny married Billie and they came to Camp Stewart for a two year enlistment.
They brought with them a 1951 Oldsmobile and a 1951 Studebaker pick up truck as well as Johnny's Harley Davidson motorcycle. They made frequent trips to Florida for brief visits. Butch and Bubba instantly became much of my after school entertainment. The Walkers would go to the drive in theatre every time the movie changed and before very long I came to be invited to go along.
It would come to pass that I would take my first motorcycle ride with Johnny as well as my first flight in an airplane. An old Hinesville legend Richard Helms (a non college educated but licensed attorney because he passed the bar exam) owned a two seat er airplane and it was kept at what was jokingly referred to as Gibbs international airport across the road from the Hinesville cemetery. The airplane was an Ercoupe with an unusual design. I think it might have had dual tail uprights. Maybe Jamey can dig up a picture of one. Anyway it was a small single engine with the cockpit above the front wings. The top of the cockpit was merely a front and rear windshield with an overhead sliding door entrance into the seat. You entered by stepping up onto the right hand front wing and over into the two seats. Once seated you simply pulled the sliding plastic panel over to the edge if you wanted to close the top. You could slide the two plastic panels to the center of overhead and the cockpit was open air with each side open but the passengers had the two plastic panels above them. As I said it was a unique design and it was a thrill just to sit in it at my young age.
Richard Helms was an eccentric local legend in old Liberty county. He and I became acquainted when I was a little boy. Johnny Walker was a licensed pilot before he and the family moved to Liberty county. The Gibbs family owned a large farm on highway 82 between Hinesville and Allenhurst. They mostly raised cattle and their herd roamed the woods between highway 82 (now 84) and the Atlantic Coastline railroad. I'm speaking of the area just east of the Cherokee Rose golf course. Back in the forties some of the Gibbs family became interested in flying and owned at least one airplane. Not long after we got our first automobile Daddy took me to Gibbs field one day to watch people get into the plane and take short flights. I'm not sure if it was a special occasion or something that occur ed on a regular basis. I think I accompanied Daddy to the airstrip more than once but I'm positive that I visited at least one time. At any rate the airstrip was dirt and grass and the runway was at a right angle from the highway. The strip backed up to the road just across from the turnoff to go to the Hinesville cemetery.
The Walker family came into our midst when I was in the fifth grade and went back to Florida when I was in the seventh grade. It was during this time that Richard Helms owned his airplane and most of the time it was kept at a small airstrip on highway 80 just out of Savannah on the way to Tybee. That is where he took it for service and maintenance.
In years past the family of Mr John Gibbs became aviators shortly after the end of the war. I've been told that the government created a program to pay former veterans to learn how to fly airplanes. Allegedly Mr Gibbs and his two sons learned how to fly and might have all owned airplanes as I remember seeing more than one airplane there when Daddy took me to see the place one day in the late forties. The Gibbs farm was probably almost equal to Cherokee Rose country club and it encompassed a long highway frontage from the eastern edge of the country club to a large drainage
ditch on the western edge just across the road from the American Legion.
The place was known as Gibbs field and before the fence law was enacted in 1953 I guess the airplanes were kept in a fenced compound so as to keep the cows away. I recall a huge barn type building with shed roof structures on either side of the front of the structure so that an Airplane could be enclosed within the building. In her later days the widow of Mr Gibbs continued to have a heard of cows and cultivated some of the land as well as renting some spaces for the revolutionary new house trailers, which would later be called mobile homes. The original airstrip had become a pasture for the grazing cattle.
I guess at some point Richard Helms made arrangements with Mrs. Gibbs to land and keep his airplane at Gibbs field. One afternoon Johnny Walker asked Mama if he could take me with him to do some sort of work on the airplane. He and Richard both frequently would tinker with things on the plane and then take it up for a quick test. Before too long I begged Mama and Daddy to let me go up with Johnny. Permission was given and at the ripe old age of ten years old I took my first airplane ride. I sat in the right hand seat and off we went. As I recall the cockpit was just slightly forward of the forward edge of the main wing. Seated in the plane you could look down at the front edge and have a clear view below. When we arrived at the airstrip the plane was parked near the highway and there was a ramp from the road where we parked the 1951 Studebaker pickup and simply climbed the fence to enter the airstrip.
That tiny little airplane was the most marvelous thing I had ever seen at the time. I was in fifth grade I think and until that time I had only known and experienced a world between Claxton, Metter and Savannah. Daddy's sister Aunt Dell at one time lived in Metter where Uncle Brunell Burkhalter ran a hardware store. Several Aunts and Uncles lived in Claxton and some in Bulloch and Bryan counties. Thus at ten years old my world had less than a one hundred mile radius of McIntosh. Gibbs field was probably about five or six miles from home located on the same highway. As the crow flies it would have been much closer. Highway 84 although considered to be an east-west road has a direct virtual ninety degree turn in the center of Flemington at what would come to be known as McLarry's curve.
The airplane was backed up to the fence and positioned headed straight toward the airstrip which was positioned at a nearly right angel to the highway. The far end of the airstrip would approach the lowlands near the Atlantic Coastline railroad which stretched from Savannah to Waycross passing through McIntosh and Allenhurst with stations located at McIntosh and Walthourville. With much excitement and absolutely no fear I eagerly climbed up onto the right wing behind Johnny and we both stepped into the cockpit and I think we had seat belts but I have no memories of them. I do recall being fascinated by the clear plastic bubble which covered the cockpit.
When I was in sixth grade there was a nice family boarding with Grandma in the Greenhouse. The Walkers had come from Sanford, Fla and they had two little boys who were about two and three years younger than me. Johnny Walker and his wife Billie with her two sons Butch and Bubba Mills had come to live with Grandma the year before sixth grade and they lived here for about two years. Their presence next door would bring a whole new world to a young Jimmy Smith. As it turned out Johnny had been a young associate of Billie and her husband who owned a pawn shop in Sanford and they also owned a nice country home on the out skirts of town. They moved to McIntosh to rent half of Grandma's house while Johnny fulfilled his two year enlistment in the Army. It seems that Mr Mills had died at a young age and left Billie and two little boys without a father. Johnny had been from a very poor family (simply a Florida cracker) and had worked for Mr Mills in his business interest before his death. When Mr Mills died Johnny married Billie and they came to Camp Stewart for a two year enlistment.
They brought with them a 1951 Oldsmobile and a 1951 Studebaker pick up truck as well as Johnny's Harley Davidson motorcycle. They made frequent trips to Florida for brief visits. Butch and Bubba instantly became much of my after school entertainment. The Walkers would go to the drive in theatre every time the movie changed and before very long I came to be invited to go along.
It would come to pass that I would take my first motorcycle ride with Johnny as well as my first flight in an airplane. An old Hinesville legend Richard Helms (a non college educated but licensed attorney because he passed the bar exam) owned a two seat er airplane and it was kept at what was jokingly referred to as Gibbs international airport across the road from the Hinesville cemetery. The airplane was an Ercoupe with an unusual design. I think it might have had dual tail uprights. Maybe Jamey can dig up a picture of one. Anyway it was a small single engine with the cockpit above the front wings. The top of the cockpit was merely a front and rear windshield with an overhead sliding door entrance into the seat. You entered by stepping up onto the right hand front wing and over into the two seats. Once seated you simply pulled the sliding plastic panel over to the edge if you wanted to close the top. You could slide the two plastic panels to the center of overhead and the cockpit was open air with each side open but the passengers had the two plastic panels above them. As I said it was a unique design and it was a thrill just to sit in it at my young age.
Richard Helms was an eccentric local legend in old Liberty county. He and I became acquainted when I was a little boy. Johnny Walker was a licensed pilot before he and the family moved to Liberty county. The Gibbs family owned a large farm on highway 82 between Hinesville and Allenhurst. They mostly raised cattle and their herd roamed the woods between highway 82 (now 84) and the Atlantic Coastline railroad. I'm speaking of the area just east of the Cherokee Rose golf course. Back in the forties some of the Gibbs family became interested in flying and owned at least one airplane. Not long after we got our first automobile Daddy took me to Gibbs field one day to watch people get into the plane and take short flights. I'm not sure if it was a special occasion or something that occur ed on a regular basis. I think I accompanied Daddy to the airstrip more than once but I'm positive that I visited at least one time. At any rate the airstrip was dirt and grass and the runway was at a right angle from the highway. The strip backed up to the road just across from the turnoff to go to the Hinesville cemetery.
The Walker family came into our midst when I was in the fifth grade and went back to Florida when I was in the seventh grade. It was during this time that Richard Helms owned his airplane and most of the time it was kept at a small airstrip on highway 80 just out of Savannah on the way to Tybee. That is where he took it for service and maintenance.
In years past the family of Mr John Gibbs became aviators shortly after the end of the war. I've been told that the government created a program to pay former veterans to learn how to fly airplanes. Allegedly Mr Gibbs and his two sons learned how to fly and might have all owned airplanes as I remember seeing more than one airplane there when Daddy took me to see the place one day in the late forties. The Gibbs farm was probably almost equal to Cherokee Rose country club and it encompassed a long highway frontage from the eastern edge of the country club to a large drainage
ditch on the western edge just across the road from the American Legion.
The place was known as Gibbs field and before the fence law was enacted in 1953 I guess the airplanes were kept in a fenced compound so as to keep the cows away. I recall a huge barn type building with shed roof structures on either side of the front of the structure so that an Airplane could be enclosed within the building. In her later days the widow of Mr Gibbs continued to have a heard of cows and cultivated some of the land as well as renting some spaces for the revolutionary new house trailers, which would later be called mobile homes. The original airstrip had become a pasture for the grazing cattle.
I guess at some point Richard Helms made arrangements with Mrs. Gibbs to land and keep his airplane at Gibbs field. One afternoon Johnny Walker asked Mama if he could take me with him to do some sort of work on the airplane. He and Richard both frequently would tinker with things on the plane and then take it up for a quick test. Before too long I begged Mama and Daddy to let me go up with Johnny. Permission was given and at the ripe old age of ten years old I took my first airplane ride. I sat in the right hand seat and off we went. As I recall the cockpit was just slightly forward of the forward edge of the main wing. Seated in the plane you could look down at the front edge and have a clear view below. When we arrived at the airstrip the plane was parked near the highway and there was a ramp from the road where we parked the 1951 Studebaker pickup and simply climbed the fence to enter the airstrip.
That tiny little airplane was the most marvelous thing I had ever seen at the time. I was in fifth grade I think and until that time I had only known and experienced a world between Claxton, Metter and Savannah. Daddy's sister Aunt Dell at one time lived in Metter where Uncle Brunell Burkhalter ran a hardware store. Several Aunts and Uncles lived in Claxton and some in Bulloch and Bryan counties. Thus at ten years old my world had less than a one hundred mile radius of McIntosh. Gibbs field was probably about five or six miles from home located on the same highway. As the crow flies it would have been much closer. Highway 84 although considered to be an east-west road has a direct virtual ninety degree turn in the center of Flemington at what would come to be known as McLarry's curve.
The airplane was backed up to the fence and positioned headed straight toward the airstrip which was positioned at a nearly right angel to the highway. The far end of the airstrip would approach the lowlands near the Atlantic Coastline railroad which stretched from Savannah to Waycross passing through McIntosh and Allenhurst with stations located at McIntosh and Walthourville. With much excitement and absolutely no fear I eagerly climbed up onto the right wing behind Johnny and we both stepped into the cockpit and I think we had seat belts but I have no memories of them. I do recall being fascinated by the clear plastic bubble which covered the cockpit.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
I got my first gun a Mossberg bolt action 410 gauge shotgun for Christmas when I was eleven years old. I would receive my second when I was a few years older. My second gun was a double barreled 12 gauge Stevens brand. Before those I had been given as Christmas presents two BB guns. The second was a Daisy pump and the first was a lever action "Red Ryder" style. The first one was received at a very early age although I can only speculate as to my age when I received it. I was not able to cock it when I first got it. I remember having to get June to help me cock it for a while. That proved to be ill advised as one day she, after having cocked the damn thing, decided to shoot me with it. We were both just outside of the kitchen window playing at the gate to the back yard. She cocked it and then instead of turning it over to me she pointed it at me and threatened to shoot. I held my hands up as if to avoid being shot but guess what. She pulled the trigger. I was dressed in my usual attire of the time. I wore only a pair of short homemade pants which had elastic around the waist and might have sported one little pocket on the backside. The BB hit me in the center of the chest and I started to charge at June before she could cock the gun again. June is three years older than me and the two of us got into many many fights up until I started to get strong enough to get the best of her. She took great delight in pinching, kicking, slapping and biting as well as shoving and wrestling. I was stopped by Mama's screaming as she came out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. Although the BB did hurt some it did not break the skin and as I realized that Mama had been witness to the shooting I instantly took more delight in being the victim and enjoyed Mama's scolding of June as she pampered me with her attention to the "gunshot" wound in my chest. Heck you could barely see a slight red spot but I enjoyed the attention and especially the attention Mama was giving June for having shot her darling little defenseless brother.
The Red Ryder BB gun was the first gun that would actually fire a projectile. I was not only allowed but was encouraged to use it to drive the cows out of the open space between our house and Grandma's house next door.
The Red Ryder BB gun was the first gun that would actually fire a projectile. I was not only allowed but was encouraged to use it to drive the cows out of the open space between our house and Grandma's house next door.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
.410
As a small boy I always remember having toy guns. Sometimes they were toy pistols which were meant to be "cowboy" guns as we played cowboys and Indians all of the time. I didn't have to grow very old before I came to the realization that the Indians were not the bad guys after all. Grandmama proudly declared to me at a very young age that I was part Indian. She and her children had the look of an Indian and I've always accepted it as fact that we indeed are at least partially of Indian descent. Some of our ancestry came from North Carolina and I imagine that was where our blood became mixed.
At any rate as a small boy I was drawn to the outdoors especially the swamp which was not more than a hundred yards from our backyard. Children then were not indoor creatures, especially little boys. I had the benefit of an older brother exactly ten years older than me who taught me quickly where the limits were to my adventures. To this day I spend quality "think time" at the very spot where Homer first left me alone in the woods. That spot is sacred to me and it is where I go for sunrise every Easter. I am speaking of the corner of the lower of two ponds which I share ownership with the school board as it is the storm water detention complex for the Liberty County high school.
I imagine that I was probably about four or maybe five that first time Homer took me hunting with him. He took me with him only because Mama made him do it. He cut the outing short because soon after he left me at the waters edge I became restless. We were at the northeastern corner of the rear field of the Quarterman estate. We were taught to respect the owners of neighboring property and skirt around fences until we got to the edge of the swamp. Once at the edge of the swamp we either skirted around or walked along the trunks of fallen trees which conveniently formed bridges across the swamp. I thought little of wading out into water above my knees at an early age. There were a few places in the swamp where the water might be three or more feet deep but not many and they were not large in area.
In my youth there were never any alligators seen in the Goshen by myself or reported by anyone else. The gators came after the swamp was channelized in 1974. The first ones ever reported were in the ponds created by Judge Fraser which are located at the swamps intersection with the highway. I believe I have lost one beloved little dog to the gators and I don't want to experience that again. About the only wild game critters seen in my early years were Deer, Turkey, Squirrel, Rabbit and many kinds of birds.
There always has been a presence of snakes of many varieties but mostly moccasins There was as I recall only an occasional rattlesnake. It was our custom to kill any and all snakes up until I closed the Corner bar and built my barn. I was at that time almost fifty and I had experienced a change of attitude about non poisonous snakes. I had learned that some snakes were actually a benefit to have around. The yellow corn snake, or commonly called the garter snake, is especially peaceful and a thing of beauty. About twenty years ago I encountered one near the barn and he and my dog Samboling as well as myself learned to be tolerant of each other's presence I soon named the snake SS for sneaky snake. There were many chance encounters and he ultimately took up residence inside an old draft beer cooler which I have stored in the barn. Many times I watched him lay across the path before me and Sam and we simply stepped over him. Our presence did not seem to bother him. Mama never really liked the idea of allowing any snake to escape the .410.
I remember one day when it was extremely hot and I walked past a large plastic tub which sat out behind the barn and was full of rainwater, I noticed SS's nose sticking up at the water's surface. He had decided to cool it in the tub of water. There were many such encounters. Mama never really liked SS and in the end she had her way with him. It was only about a month or so after her death that I discovered the original SS shortly after his death in Mama's barn. In those first few weeks after Mama's death I often spent hours during the day just poking around in her storage buildings as well as the house. That was my way of enduring my grief over her death and I still enjoy some time doing that even now. I learned at a very young age the pain of the lose of a very close loved one. The grief at first is almost overwhelming but in fact it is not that. Eventually one finds closure and there is comfort in that. At any rate one sunny morning around Thanksgiving I found myself in Mama's back yard and something compelled me to go and open the barn door. Right before me lay the remains of SS entangled in the netting which Mama had taken off of her strawberry plants. The net was for protecting the strawberry fruit from birds. Well SS had stuck his head through it and then could not get back out of it. He had only been dead for a matter of hours as his body though lifeless was still vibrant and flexible. I looked at him and could not help but think about Mama and her having her way after all. I stood there almost in tears thinking about my Mama but slowly I broke into a huge smile as I turned my gaze upward toward the pecan trees and in my mind I could here her words "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my Pecan trees".
Those words were Mama's immediate response sometime a few years earlier after I questioned her regarding the sound of the shotgun several times early one morning and instantly heard the sound of the shot as it fell around me as I was about two or three hundred feet from where Mama was with the gun. A short time later I joined Mama for a brief visit and I inquired about the gunshots earlier and she said she had been shooting the squirrels in the pecan trees. I said to her, Mama you should not be shooting God's little critters. She immediately responded "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my pecan trees". She could be a woman of few words but she said what was on her mind. And she meant it also. I stood looking at the remains of Sneaky Snake and could not help but think well God's little critter should have stayed out of her barn and he would not have become trapped in the net. Such is life and death of God's critters.
At any rate as a small boy I was drawn to the outdoors especially the swamp which was not more than a hundred yards from our backyard. Children then were not indoor creatures, especially little boys. I had the benefit of an older brother exactly ten years older than me who taught me quickly where the limits were to my adventures. To this day I spend quality "think time" at the very spot where Homer first left me alone in the woods. That spot is sacred to me and it is where I go for sunrise every Easter. I am speaking of the corner of the lower of two ponds which I share ownership with the school board as it is the storm water detention complex for the Liberty County high school.
I imagine that I was probably about four or maybe five that first time Homer took me hunting with him. He took me with him only because Mama made him do it. He cut the outing short because soon after he left me at the waters edge I became restless. We were at the northeastern corner of the rear field of the Quarterman estate. We were taught to respect the owners of neighboring property and skirt around fences until we got to the edge of the swamp. Once at the edge of the swamp we either skirted around or walked along the trunks of fallen trees which conveniently formed bridges across the swamp. I thought little of wading out into water above my knees at an early age. There were a few places in the swamp where the water might be three or more feet deep but not many and they were not large in area.
There always has been a presence of snakes of many varieties but mostly moccasins There was as I recall only an occasional rattlesnake. It was our custom to kill any and all snakes up until I closed the Corner bar and built my barn. I was at that time almost fifty and I had experienced a change of attitude about non poisonous snakes. I had learned that some snakes were actually a benefit to have around. The yellow corn snake, or commonly called the garter snake, is especially peaceful and a thing of beauty. About twenty years ago I encountered one near the barn and he and my dog Samboling as well as myself learned to be tolerant of each other's presence I soon named the snake SS for sneaky snake. There were many chance encounters and he ultimately took up residence inside an old draft beer cooler which I have stored in the barn. Many times I watched him lay across the path before me and Sam and we simply stepped over him. Our presence did not seem to bother him. Mama never really liked the idea of allowing any snake to escape the .410.
I remember one day when it was extremely hot and I walked past a large plastic tub which sat out behind the barn and was full of rainwater, I noticed SS's nose sticking up at the water's surface. He had decided to cool it in the tub of water. There were many such encounters. Mama never really liked SS and in the end she had her way with him. It was only about a month or so after her death that I discovered the original SS shortly after his death in Mama's barn. In those first few weeks after Mama's death I often spent hours during the day just poking around in her storage buildings as well as the house. That was my way of enduring my grief over her death and I still enjoy some time doing that even now. I learned at a very young age the pain of the lose of a very close loved one. The grief at first is almost overwhelming but in fact it is not that. Eventually one finds closure and there is comfort in that. At any rate one sunny morning around Thanksgiving I found myself in Mama's back yard and something compelled me to go and open the barn door. Right before me lay the remains of SS entangled in the netting which Mama had taken off of her strawberry plants. The net was for protecting the strawberry fruit from birds. Well SS had stuck his head through it and then could not get back out of it. He had only been dead for a matter of hours as his body though lifeless was still vibrant and flexible. I looked at him and could not help but think about Mama and her having her way after all. I stood there almost in tears thinking about my Mama but slowly I broke into a huge smile as I turned my gaze upward toward the pecan trees and in my mind I could here her words "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my Pecan trees".
Those words were Mama's immediate response sometime a few years earlier after I questioned her regarding the sound of the shotgun several times early one morning and instantly heard the sound of the shot as it fell around me as I was about two or three hundred feet from where Mama was with the gun. A short time later I joined Mama for a brief visit and I inquired about the gunshots earlier and she said she had been shooting the squirrels in the pecan trees. I said to her, Mama you should not be shooting God's little critters. She immediately responded "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my pecan trees". She could be a woman of few words but she said what was on her mind. And she meant it also. I stood looking at the remains of Sneaky Snake and could not help but think well God's little critter should have stayed out of her barn and he would not have become trapped in the net. Such is life and death of God's critters.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Back When The Lightning Bugs Ruled
I mentioned earlier that until I was about ten years old Georgia was an open range state. Folks who owned livestock simply opened the "lot gate" in the morning and turned them lose to roam the neighborhood and the highways and byways within their roaming area. The swamp was a natural fence for the cows and hogs. They basically stayed out of the water other than for drinking purposes. One or two of the cows would have a bell hung around their neck so that they could be found as darkness approached. I remember sitting in the yard around about time to start thinking about going to the house, when Mrs. Rahn could be heard calling the cows from down back or wherever. When us kids heard her, or her brother George Quarterman calling the cows home we new it was time for us to also go to the house and get ready for the family to gather at the supper table.
Evenings were very quieting times as we watched the bats flying about and the fireflies or lightning bugs. If it was cool weather there would be the smell of smoke from the fireplace and the wood burning heater. If it was warm there was often a fire going outside for disposing of trash as well as for perhaps pest control although I'm not sure about that. And listening to the whiporwills, as well as the crickets and bullfrogs altogether it was a wonderful sound and it happened naturally every evening. And if you were at Grandmama's house you also heard the constant splash of water from the discharge of the flowing well.
Grandmama died in 1959 I think and in the final years of her life June slept at her house most of the time and when I got old enough to be trusted with that responsibility I would sometimes stay at Grandmama's. There was a stretch of a few years when someone from our household would sleep at Grandmama's every night because of her frailness Grandmama had terribly weak varicose veins and she often had severe bleeding spells. She had to have much care and attention. Mama was Grandmama's primary care giver and she rendered a very good effort as I remember following Mama from our house over to Grandmama's at least two or three times every day. The path which stretched from just beside the flowing well, which was right outside of Grandmama's house backyard the back gate into the backyard of Mama and Daddy's house was a first place of adventure for me as it crossed four hundred feet between the Quarterman lane to the Jessie Perry place. My homestead then as now stretched from the "lane" which separated the Quarterman property from Grandmama's on the west side to the fence which separated our vegatable garden on the east side of our house from the Perry property. There was a driveway from the highway into Grandmama's and another into our house. There were two additional one acre lots between the two houses. Those two lots were acquired by my Daddy at some time after we had lived there for a while. I think they were purchased to facilitate our having our own well drilled in the late forties.
Those two lots are where the duplex apartment building is currently. Back when we were young Daddy bought a mowing machine which was an extremely dangerous device much like a small bushhog on pneumatic tires with a five horsepower Brigg's and Stratton positioned on a wooden deck which supported a hub that had a two foot blade beneath and a veebelt drove the hub from a pulley on the side of the engine. The two lots were unfenced from the highway to about halfway toward the back. The back half of those two lots were fenced to form what Daddy called our pasture. It probably consisted of a little more than one acre. We kept at least one or two hogs most of my early childhood. At the approriate time of the year Em would load one or two hogs and take them somewhere like Mr Pryor Staffords to have them bred so we could soon be raising a litter of pigs for slaughter in the coming fall or winter.
As I said earlier Mama maintained a flock of chickens up until her death in 1995 which happened approriately on Labor Day, quite fitting for someone known to have labored mightely throughout her life up until her very last days on this earth. We always had other domestic animals on the place. There was forever at least one or more family dogs and today I frequently pause at the site of burial of all of them. I am currently enjoying creating this recollection of my youth and it is so very special to still be walking the very same soil which my tiny feet roamed in the very first years of my now seventy years on this planet.
About 1951 or so we were inticed by Mr James Moore to build some flight pens for the purpose of raising quail. The remnants of those pens are still in place and I enjoy spending time around them. We had an incubator and we hatched the eggs which had been ordered from the Market Bulliten. We had the perverbial "Bob White" as well as the Japeneese and the Chuka varities. The Japeneese appeered to be the smallest but in reality when processed it produced the most volumn for consumption.
Mama would smoother fry several dozen at a time for our supper and occasionally for Sunday Dinner right after church. It was a sight to study the face of the Preacher when he was invited to Dinner at Ms Homer's on Sunday after the morning service, or when a visiting preacher came for early Supper on an evening during a Revival. Mama had a special serving platter for the Thanksgiving turkey which was quite large and held a small mountain of smoother fried quail of two dozen or even more on special occasions.
My Mama was the best cook I have ever known of and I have had the very good fortune to have been in the company of several other ladies along my life's journey who were indeed wonderful cooks. I believe that one of the main reasons that I've enjoyed exceptionally good health so far is due to all of the carefully prepared meals which I've enjoyed throughout my life. Currently and for the past twenty years I eat only two meals daily. I have a very good breakfast every morning and a well balanced evening meal shortly before I retire at dusk.
Evenings were very quieting times as we watched the bats flying about and the fireflies or lightning bugs. If it was cool weather there would be the smell of smoke from the fireplace and the wood burning heater. If it was warm there was often a fire going outside for disposing of trash as well as for perhaps pest control although I'm not sure about that. And listening to the whiporwills, as well as the crickets and bullfrogs altogether it was a wonderful sound and it happened naturally every evening. And if you were at Grandmama's house you also heard the constant splash of water from the discharge of the flowing well.Grandmama died in 1959 I think and in the final years of her life June slept at her house most of the time and when I got old enough to be trusted with that responsibility I would sometimes stay at Grandmama's. There was a stretch of a few years when someone from our household would sleep at Grandmama's every night because of her frailness Grandmama had terribly weak varicose veins and she often had severe bleeding spells. She had to have much care and attention. Mama was Grandmama's primary care giver and she rendered a very good effort as I remember following Mama from our house over to Grandmama's at least two or three times every day. The path which stretched from just beside the flowing well, which was right outside of Grandmama's house backyard the back gate into the backyard of Mama and Daddy's house was a first place of adventure for me as it crossed four hundred feet between the Quarterman lane to the Jessie Perry place. My homestead then as now stretched from the "lane" which separated the Quarterman property from Grandmama's on the west side to the fence which separated our vegatable garden on the east side of our house from the Perry property. There was a driveway from the highway into Grandmama's and another into our house. There were two additional one acre lots between the two houses. Those two lots were acquired by my Daddy at some time after we had lived there for a while. I think they were purchased to facilitate our having our own well drilled in the late forties.
Those two lots are where the duplex apartment building is currently. Back when we were young Daddy bought a mowing machine which was an extremely dangerous device much like a small bushhog on pneumatic tires with a five horsepower Brigg's and Stratton positioned on a wooden deck which supported a hub that had a two foot blade beneath and a veebelt drove the hub from a pulley on the side of the engine. The two lots were unfenced from the highway to about halfway toward the back. The back half of those two lots were fenced to form what Daddy called our pasture. It probably consisted of a little more than one acre. We kept at least one or two hogs most of my early childhood. At the approriate time of the year Em would load one or two hogs and take them somewhere like Mr Pryor Staffords to have them bred so we could soon be raising a litter of pigs for slaughter in the coming fall or winter.
As I said earlier Mama maintained a flock of chickens up until her death in 1995 which happened approriately on Labor Day, quite fitting for someone known to have labored mightely throughout her life up until her very last days on this earth. We always had other domestic animals on the place. There was forever at least one or more family dogs and today I frequently pause at the site of burial of all of them. I am currently enjoying creating this recollection of my youth and it is so very special to still be walking the very same soil which my tiny feet roamed in the very first years of my now seventy years on this planet.
About 1951 or so we were inticed by Mr James Moore to build some flight pens for the purpose of raising quail. The remnants of those pens are still in place and I enjoy spending time around them. We had an incubator and we hatched the eggs which had been ordered from the Market Bulliten. We had the perverbial "Bob White" as well as the Japeneese and the Chuka varities. The Japeneese appeered to be the smallest but in reality when processed it produced the most volumn for consumption.
Mama would smoother fry several dozen at a time for our supper and occasionally for Sunday Dinner right after church. It was a sight to study the face of the Preacher when he was invited to Dinner at Ms Homer's on Sunday after the morning service, or when a visiting preacher came for early Supper on an evening during a Revival. Mama had a special serving platter for the Thanksgiving turkey which was quite large and held a small mountain of smoother fried quail of two dozen or even more on special occasions.
My Mama was the best cook I have ever known of and I have had the very good fortune to have been in the company of several other ladies along my life's journey who were indeed wonderful cooks. I believe that one of the main reasons that I've enjoyed exceptionally good health so far is due to all of the carefully prepared meals which I've enjoyed throughout my life. Currently and for the past twenty years I eat only two meals daily. I have a very good breakfast every morning and a well balanced evening meal shortly before I retire at dusk.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Living On The Edge
The Quarterman place was a working farm at the eastern edge of Flemington alongside the Old Sunbury Road. It was situated between the highway and the Goshen Swamp. It was somewhat of a knoll rising up out of the swamp and there was a large red two story home with porches all around and cedar shingles on the outside walls. It was adorned with an elaborate network of lightning rods on all four corners and following the peaks of all of the angles of the roof line. A very large barn stood near the house and a herd of cows were housed in the barn at night. The barn was set back from the road about such that the front of the barn was just a little nearer the road than was the rear of the mainhouse. There were two identical cabins built out in front of the barn and to the left of the big house if your view was from the road.
The cows roamed freely along the road as Georgia was an open range state up until about 1953 I believe. I'm not sure just how large the Quarterman place was but I'd guess that originally it might have been as much as sixty to a hundred acres. It was composed of some open fields cultivated in summer months and there was some woodland areas which had numerous long leaf pine trees that were worked for the collection of pine gum or "tar" for the sale to the navel stores industry of the time. The trees had "catfaces" slashed into the side of the trunk where cups were attached beneath the catface for collection of the sap.
The rear of the Quarterman estate went slightly into the swamp. As I said earlier it was an island or perhaps a knoll rising up out of the Goshen to form the Quartermn place.
East of Flemington was the predominately black community of McIntosh. Originally the Homer Smith place was part of Flemington but at some point after the land was sold to the lumber company it came to be considered to be in McIntosh. Apparently Mr. or perhaps it was Mrs. Quarterman decided to sell four acres of their land on the eastern edge of the estate. Those four one acre lots are what is now the Homer Smith homestead as it exists today and that is what was cut out of that corner of their land. That being the south eastern corner of the Quarterman estate.
It appears to me that the Quartermans decided to sell four acres of road frontage each of which would have a 100 foot frontage on the highway. The western most of those four acres is what is today referred to as the Greenhouse. I think the first acre sold was what is today known as the Greenhouse. It was the acre nearest to the Quartermans and it was to have been the first of four total ultimately there would perhaps be three additional sites between the Quartermans and the next land owner which was a Mr Jessie Perry who owned 5 acres and his next neighbor going east was the Sullivan place which was composed of some sixty plus acres which stretched alongside the highway almost to the intersection of the channel of the Goshen where it passed beneath the highway.
The rear of the Quarterman estate went slightly into the swamp. As I said earlier it was an island or perhaps a knoll rising up out of the Goshen to form the Quartermn place.
East of Flemington was the predominately black community of McIntosh. Originally the Homer Smith place was part of Flemington but at some point after the land was sold to the lumber company it came to be considered to be in McIntosh. Apparently Mr. or perhaps it was Mrs. Quarterman decided to sell four acres of their land on the eastern edge of the estate. Those four one acre lots are what is now the Homer Smith homestead as it exists today and that is what was cut out of that corner of their land. That being the south eastern corner of the Quarterman estate.
It appears to me that the Quartermans decided to sell four acres of road frontage each of which would have a 100 foot frontage on the highway. The western most of those four acres is what is today referred to as the Greenhouse. I think the first acre sold was what is today known as the Greenhouse. It was the acre nearest to the Quartermans and it was to have been the first of four total ultimately there would perhaps be three additional sites between the Quartermans and the next land owner which was a Mr Jessie Perry who owned 5 acres and his next neighbor going east was the Sullivan place which was composed of some sixty plus acres which stretched alongside the highway almost to the intersection of the channel of the Goshen where it passed beneath the highway.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
An Ode To The Seamstress
I have endless small as well as large memories of my early childhood growing up in the homestead of Homer and Irene Smith. From my very earliest memories I recall the "Singer man" coming to the front door of the house frequently. Every time he had a new piece of sewing related furniture he would bring it and he and Mama would discuss the deal and she almost always would purchase whatever he was selling. There would often be some financing over a period of time. I still have her last and most heavily used sewing machine and most of the components that she had acquired for use with it. The base of the cabinet is scarred where Jamey cut his first teeth while lying on the floor watching Mama sew just as I had done less than 20 years before.
Mama was always a stay at home Mother but she was also always a working Mother. She was the county seamstress and she accepted work from all walks of life. She sewed for the rich and well to do and she sewed for the less fortunate. She sewed for the not so easy to fit as well as the most gorgeously shaped ladies in the county. Mama could make their dresses, when completed fit as if they had been painted onto their bodies. She knew how to measure and take notes and then she would alter the patterns to adapt to the body of the individual.
She altered clothes to fit again after someone had gained some weight or at times the reverse would be required. She sewed the insignia and patches on uniforms for the military or our National Guard men. She for many years created the uniforms for the Cheerleaders at Bradwell.
She not only made clothes but she made "slipcovers" for furniture. There were often times when someone would bring a piece of furniture such as a sofa or large chair and leave it with us for a period of time for Mama to make a new set of slipcovers or if she had made a set in the past she often simply referred to her notes. At other times the customer would come and get Mama and take her to their home for measurements or for fitting sessions. She also made curtains and drapes for the windows of some of the finest homes in the county. Her similar work could also be found in some of the most modest homes in the county. Many times I witnessed her being paid just two or three dollars for something that I knew she had invested double or triple the hours of the task as compared to the dollars. She worked hard and took great pride in her finished product.
Although I remember a number of times when Mama would trade in her old sewing machine for a new one I do not remember a time when she did not already have a machine. My earliest memories on this subject are of the Singer man selling needles or bobbins and thread and such. My very oldest memories are of a pedal machine. I would lie on the floor and watch Mama's bare feet as they pedaled the machine. The oldest machine that I remember was tattered and worn but it worked and I remember her trading it in on a newer (but not brand new) machine.
One day the Singer man came with a strange looking devise which would serve to transform Mama's machine to be driven by an electric motor operated by a foot pedal on a small box affixed to the cast iron original pedal. The connecting rod from the original pedal to the machine was disconnected and the electric motor was somehow attached to the machine and behold she had a modern new way of operating the thing. I watched with great interest as the device was installed and the conversion was completed. This was indeed a new day for Irene Smith. Jimmy Smith was excited but also felt some sadness because it had always been such a delight to watch her pedal the machine for long hours during the days and into the evenings. As a child I was always allowed to stay up with Mama after supper was finished. As long as I did not distract her or make noise to awaken Daddy I was good to go. I enjoyed every single moment. Sometimes we would experience power failure and she would sew by the light of the kerosene lamp. Those stormy nights had somehow always been the most exciting to me as a small child. With this newfangled electric motor those days were gone forever.
Mama was always a stay at home Mother but she was also always a working Mother. She was the county seamstress and she accepted work from all walks of life. She sewed for the rich and well to do and she sewed for the less fortunate. She sewed for the not so easy to fit as well as the most gorgeously shaped ladies in the county. Mama could make their dresses, when completed fit as if they had been painted onto their bodies. She knew how to measure and take notes and then she would alter the patterns to adapt to the body of the individual.
She altered clothes to fit again after someone had gained some weight or at times the reverse would be required. She sewed the insignia and patches on uniforms for the military or our National Guard men. She for many years created the uniforms for the Cheerleaders at Bradwell.
She not only made clothes but she made "slipcovers" for furniture. There were often times when someone would bring a piece of furniture such as a sofa or large chair and leave it with us for a period of time for Mama to make a new set of slipcovers or if she had made a set in the past she often simply referred to her notes. At other times the customer would come and get Mama and take her to their home for measurements or for fitting sessions. She also made curtains and drapes for the windows of some of the finest homes in the county. Her similar work could also be found in some of the most modest homes in the county. Many times I witnessed her being paid just two or three dollars for something that I knew she had invested double or triple the hours of the task as compared to the dollars. She worked hard and took great pride in her finished product.
Although I remember a number of times when Mama would trade in her old sewing machine for a new one I do not remember a time when she did not already have a machine. My earliest memories on this subject are of the Singer man selling needles or bobbins and thread and such. My very oldest memories are of a pedal machine. I would lie on the floor and watch Mama's bare feet as they pedaled the machine. The oldest machine that I remember was tattered and worn but it worked and I remember her trading it in on a newer (but not brand new) machine.
One day the Singer man came with a strange looking devise which would serve to transform Mama's machine to be driven by an electric motor operated by a foot pedal on a small box affixed to the cast iron original pedal. The connecting rod from the original pedal to the machine was disconnected and the electric motor was somehow attached to the machine and behold she had a modern new way of operating the thing. I watched with great interest as the device was installed and the conversion was completed. This was indeed a new day for Irene Smith. Jimmy Smith was excited but also felt some sadness because it had always been such a delight to watch her pedal the machine for long hours during the days and into the evenings. As a child I was always allowed to stay up with Mama after supper was finished. As long as I did not distract her or make noise to awaken Daddy I was good to go. I enjoyed every single moment. Sometimes we would experience power failure and she would sew by the light of the kerosene lamp. Those stormy nights had somehow always been the most exciting to me as a small child. With this newfangled electric motor those days were gone forever.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Before It Was Green
Grandmama's house is what many today refer to as the Greenhouse. It has in recent years been transformed into somewhat of a place of appreciation of the arts so to speak. This is primarily due to the influence of Tommy Davis and me as we have promoted numerous gatherings to celebrate the birthdays of various ones of our inner-circle of friends. It provides a wonderful venue for such events. It has also been the place of memorial services for those who have gone on to their eternal life in whatever was the individual's destiny. Many joyous events have been hosted there and we have even been asked to use it for a political rally on one occasion.
I'm not sure that I remember the original house at this site as I've been told that a house stood there before the present structure and was destroyed by fire. That could explain why the septic tank was so far away from the house. Perhaps the builders of the present structure simply choose to attach the replacement house to a septic tank which previously existed for the house which had burned previously. At any rate I have a photograph of Grandama sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of the present structure and on the back of the photo her name is inscribed as Edna J. Bell 1945 Mcintosh. The picture was given to me by cousin Phil Odom and he found it among the extensive collection of pictures made by his Father Albert Odom. At the time when the picture was made the house was still unpainted. People did not start painting their houses until about 1948 or thereabout.
Aunt Joe told me a couple of years ago that Grandmama originally lived in the house there with Uncle David after he was discharged from the Army. When Uncle David married Aunt Daisy the house was sold to the C.R. Stanford family. I distinctively remember June and I standing beside the chimney with Bob Stanford and he was wearing nothing but diapers. Soon after that the Stanfords sold the house to Grandmama and I believe I remember exploring the house with June and we both marveled at the fact that there was a modern toilet in the house as well as a bathtub and hand sink. I believe at that point in time we had not yet finished the addition on our own House next door.The Greenhouse originally had three chimneys and was considered to be a very fine building. Grandmama's maiden name was Downs and the house had been built by some of the Downs family who were known for building excellent structures. An interesting fact about the present building is that there is no ridgeboard in the top of the gable. The rafters which are handcut with a handsaw and cut to fit precisely. At any rate the house had a very modern layout consisting of a living room and adjoining dining room with the kitchen at the back where it is to this day. The other side of the house had two bedrooms separated by a foyer like area adjoining the dining room,with doors opening into each of the bedrooms as well as a door opening into the bathroom. It was well thought out and nicely built.
The rear bedroom had a fireplace as did the living room. There was also a brick chimney attached to the outer wall of the kitchen for the wood burning stove. One of my very earliest recollections is sitting at a small kitchen table with a porcelain top as I watched Grandma prepare a gingerbread man for my pleasure. I felt like I was special because I lived close enough to my sole Grandparent to be with her every day. I had Mama and Daddy as well as Em and Grandma all right there each and every day and on top of that I had a brother who was ten years my senior as well as a knowing older sister all of whom were just way too good to me. No child ever had a more secure and loving surround than I did to grow up within.
Aunt Joe told me a couple of years ago that Grandmama originally lived in the house there with Uncle David after he was discharged from the Army. When Uncle David married Aunt Daisy the house was sold to the C.R. Stanford family. I distinctively remember June and I standing beside the chimney with Bob Stanford and he was wearing nothing but diapers. Soon after that the Stanfords sold the house to Grandmama and I believe I remember exploring the house with June and we both marveled at the fact that there was a modern toilet in the house as well as a bathtub and hand sink. I believe at that point in time we had not yet finished the addition on our own House next door.The Greenhouse originally had three chimneys and was considered to be a very fine building. Grandmama's maiden name was Downs and the house had been built by some of the Downs family who were known for building excellent structures. An interesting fact about the present building is that there is no ridgeboard in the top of the gable. The rafters which are handcut with a handsaw and cut to fit precisely. At any rate the house had a very modern layout consisting of a living room and adjoining dining room with the kitchen at the back where it is to this day. The other side of the house had two bedrooms separated by a foyer like area adjoining the dining room,with doors opening into each of the bedrooms as well as a door opening into the bathroom. It was well thought out and nicely built.
The rear bedroom had a fireplace as did the living room. There was also a brick chimney attached to the outer wall of the kitchen for the wood burning stove. One of my very earliest recollections is sitting at a small kitchen table with a porcelain top as I watched Grandma prepare a gingerbread man for my pleasure. I felt like I was special because I lived close enough to my sole Grandparent to be with her every day. I had Mama and Daddy as well as Em and Grandma all right there each and every day and on top of that I had a brother who was ten years my senior as well as a knowing older sister all of whom were just way too good to me. No child ever had a more secure and loving surround than I did to grow up within.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Green House
The house to the west of us was where my Grandmama lived in 1945 and I doubt that I remember that far back because I would have only been two years old. However I remember very early following Mama across the path which went from our house to Grandmama's. That little journey to Grandma's was one of my earliest freedoms as when I was first trusted to go pay the water bill at the Quarterman's. As I said earlier I lived in the household of the Homer Smith family but my home very early on grew in area as I became increasingly allowed to venture farther and farther afield within the confines of the road and the swamp. I never remember a time when we did not have some livestock and a vegetable garden. We produced a good bit of our food. My Grandma could probably have rooted a pencil or cue stick and she handily passed that quality down to my Mother. Grandma had a vegetable garden as well as some chickens and so did we, ours was larger and more ambitious than Grandma's but they were both tended and produced nicely. In the summertime the house was always hot from the constant processing of the tomatoes, beans, squash, corn and okra. In the early days it was just canning and "putting up preserves and such". Never much idle time for anyone but me. Gosh how entertained I was at a very young age. I remember feeling especially privileged to be who I was as a very small child.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
31°50'39.31"N, 81°32'43.10"W
I was born in a "company house" which was built by the Fraser
Lumber Company to accommodate the Homer Smith family. Originally it was
small virtually equal in length and width with a tin roof of a simple
gable design. A front porch with a gable roof still in place today. At
first there was a back porch across the back of the house and it had a
simple shed roof on it.
Inside the house was divided into four rooms of equal
size. The front door opened just off center to the left as you entered
the living room. the west wall of the living room had a fireplace with a
window on either side as well as a single window looking out onto the
front porch. The front bedroom opened into the living room and had a
single window looking out of the east side of the house as well as a
single window looking out onto the porch. Originally the front porch was
open but a trumpet vine was planted at each front corner of the porch
and an arbor was erected on four four by four post a pair standing to
the left and right of the front which bridged the entrance and provided
shade from the setting sun. I grew up spending many hours lying on a
swing or glider on the porch as I watched the trickle of sawdust driveling from the hole of a carpenter bee. And the hummingbirds and
bumble bees competed for the nectar or whatever they found in the deep
red trumpet shaped blooms of the vine which would eventually cover the
entire front of the house.
The back half of the house consisted of two rooms of equal size as the front two rooms. The room on the east side of the house was Mama and Daddy's bedroom. The room on the west side was the kitchen. The back door opened onto a porch which crossed the entire width of the house and was simply a raised up wood froor structure and it was covered with shed type roof and it think it was decked with one by lumber and covered with asphalt rolled roofing. The back porch at some point became enclosed in screen wire. Before it was enclosed in screen there was a "wash shelf" across the east side of the porch and we had a faucet on the wash shelf. right beside the backdoor on the porch was a steel framed Army cot which I spent many hours lieing upon watching whatever activity was taking place at the moment either on the porch or in the backyard.
The kitchen of the original house had a woodburning cookstove, a small crudely fashioned work counter and maybe a sink. There was an Icebox on the back porch and a small building in the backyard near the easter rear corner of the house where homemade canned vegitables were stored and sometimes meat such as hog hams and slabs heavily salted was hung to dry. We always had running water as Mr Quarterman had agreed to supply us as well as the house next door. One of my earliest memories is of walking with someone to the big red Quarterman house to pay the water bill and I think it was something like one dollar a month. Most folks today will identify the Quarterman house as the Kozma house. It was a very large house of unique design said to have been the design concept of Mrs Rahn the daughter of Mr Quarterman.
The back half of the house consisted of two rooms of equal size as the front two rooms. The room on the east side of the house was Mama and Daddy's bedroom. The room on the west side was the kitchen. The back door opened onto a porch which crossed the entire width of the house and was simply a raised up wood froor structure and it was covered with shed type roof and it think it was decked with one by lumber and covered with asphalt rolled roofing. The back porch at some point became enclosed in screen wire. Before it was enclosed in screen there was a "wash shelf" across the east side of the porch and we had a faucet on the wash shelf. right beside the backdoor on the porch was a steel framed Army cot which I spent many hours lieing upon watching whatever activity was taking place at the moment either on the porch or in the backyard.
The kitchen of the original house had a woodburning cookstove, a small crudely fashioned work counter and maybe a sink. There was an Icebox on the back porch and a small building in the backyard near the easter rear corner of the house where homemade canned vegitables were stored and sometimes meat such as hog hams and slabs heavily salted was hung to dry. We always had running water as Mr Quarterman had agreed to supply us as well as the house next door. One of my earliest memories is of walking with someone to the big red Quarterman house to pay the water bill and I think it was something like one dollar a month. Most folks today will identify the Quarterman house as the Kozma house. It was a very large house of unique design said to have been the design concept of Mrs Rahn the daughter of Mr Quarterman.
The front yard was enclosed by a picket fence which went across the yard at the edge of the property parallel with the road and turning back to encompass all of the front porch within it's surround. I think I can remember when I was not allowed to go out of the front yard alone. Our driveway was positioned on the west side of the house. The original pipe beneath our driveway was a metal corrugated about twenty inches or maybe two feet in diameter. One of mine and June's earliest adventures was to crawl through the pipe from the west end to the east end, she led the way. That pipe would later become the home of large bullfrogs who could be heard croaking on warm evenings well into the night. I recall falling asleep many nights while being serenaded by multiple bullfrogs seemingly in competition with their counterparts. In the very earliest memories I was only allowed out of the yard if I was with June or Homer.
Friday, April 19, 2013
I was the last born of my Mother's children but
she also became the virtual Mother of my son Jamey who lost his
biological Mother when he was a scant eight weeks old. That story will
be told entirely in due time as I pursue the tale of my journey along
the pathways of my life.
Mama and Daddy along with their young son Homer left (their
original homeplace alongside "THE OLD SUNBURY ROAD" near camp Oliver
adjacent to Glisson's mill pound near Daisy, Ga.) to seek a new
beginning. Daddy simply took his young wife and son "down the road"
toward the ocean. He veered slightly off of Sunbury road initially
somewhere around Midway and wound up in Riceboro where he found lodging
for the three of them in a boarding house. Daddy worked for a time in
Frank Hodges's store on the coastal highway near the Seaboard railroad.Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Big Sis
As it stands presently my sister June and I are the last of our
generation of the Homer Smith family to remain alive. June is three
years older than me and she has forever been my guiding influence
within the family. I'm sure that she will attest that I've not always
been a willing follower of instruction. I've always easily gone astray.
She's always loved me and excused my mistaken judgement in a very kind
and loving way. It was truly a wonderful life to have had a very mature
older brother and sister to look out for you when you goofed in any way
at all. Homer was born in 1933, June was born in 1940 and I was born in
1943. We had an older sister named Rose ( named for Daddy's Mama I think
but I'm not certain) who did not survive. Baby Rose lived only a few
weeks as she was an open spine baby which I understand was not real
uncommon back at that time. At any rate Mama and Daddy reared the three
of us at McIntosh during the "glory years". I have always thought that I
have lived the most enchanted life of any age.
Our rearing was aided
with our third parent's constant support and observation. I am speaking
of Em who loved all three of us as much as our Mama and Daddy did. The
household which was a wonderful home simply overflowed with love and
understanding. We were all blessed indeed. And I was probably what might
be called "the black sheep" of the family. As cousin Edward said long
ago "every family's got one". Never-the-less I always felt good about
myself even during the darkest of days because of my families undying
support of me no matter what. My big sister was always there for me as
she remains today. She has always loved me "warts and all". For this I
will always be grateful. And I've had a few "warts and barnacles" if you
know what I mean.
As it stands we are in our sundown years and I've always enjoyed
telling stories about things I remembered along this path we call life. I
am going to attempt in this tale to recount my memories, all of them as
correctly and honestly as my abilities allow. In advance I'm grateful to my family and wonderful circle of friends for making this story
possible. Today my big sister continues to be my rock.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Location, location, location...
We lived, "by the road" which just happened to be a State highway
and also had a Federal road department identity. We simply lived by the
road at the edge of McIntosh. In the very early memories still alive in
the depths of my mind I knew nothing of the fact that I was from
Liberty county or for that matter that I'd had the good fortune to be a
native of both Liberty county and the Great State of Georgia Actually I
don't remember even knowing that my home which was McIntosh
even had a last or second and third final names. I simply knew that I was from "McIntosh". And I was the youngest of the Homer Smith family.
even had a last or second and third final names. I simply knew that I was from "McIntosh". And I was the youngest of the Homer Smith family.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Playing In The Street
McIntosh seemed to be "charmed" to me even when I
was thought to be too young to perceive such a notion. It was my home
although I lived in the house of my family, my home soon expanded beyond the property lines of the place where I resided. When I was no more
than five years old I spent many hours sitting on top of the mailbox
watching the world go by. There was regular traffic on the road every
day. We almost could predict who and when the next car or truck would
be. Only occasionally would a strange vehicle come by. A few each day
but not more than a couple at my earliest recollection. I became infatuated with the road and cars and trucks before I could read or
write. This infatuation was fueled by the fact that Mama trusted me to
be out beside the road because even when I was pre-five that was my
playground. "Just stay on this side of the pavement" that was the rule. I
understood and was obedient enough that I only got one whipping for
getting in the road at the wrong time. More on that when the time comes.
Back in the late forties or more likely the very
early fifties June taught me how to ride a bicycle in the middle of the
highway between the Perry driveway and Grandmama's driveway.
Highway 38
The Oglethorpe Highway in addition to it's federal road department
designation is also known as Hwy 38 because that is the number assigned
by the Georgia road department. Therefore depending on the exact place
being written about at the moment I will at different times identify
certain landmarks with differing numerical identities. For that matter it
is also known as The Old Sunbury Road my favorite of all the monikers.
At any rate I had the most wonderful blessing of having
entered this world at birth alongside this road a stone's throw from the
roads intersection with the Goshen Swamp.
I was born in My
Mama and Daddy's. home locaed at what is now mile marker 10 on the
Oglethorpe HWY East. It once was RFD 1 box 38, earlier having been simply Star Route Mcintosh, Ga. Before any of that it was
simply the Homer Smith place where Wyman May's father would as a favor
drop off our mail on his transfer of the mail from McIntosh Post Office
to the Hinesville Post Office. He drove an old Chevrolet pickup probably
a forties vintage. The truck had a homemade wooden cover on the back
of it. I recall climbing up on the bumper and pulling myself up by
holding on to the top of the tailgate. I would watch with great delight
as Mr May would reach into the back and pull out a big package from
Sears & Roebuck. My family had a unique mailbox which had been hand
crafted by some metal worker. It was a box long enough to hold a rolled
up newspaper or the annual catalog from Sears and Roebuck. It was
probably about 16 inches wide as it was mounted parallel to the road.
I'd say it was six or eight inches deep and perhaps six inches high at
the front and seven inches high at the back. The top had a heavy duty
lid which sloped down from back to front.
That mailbox became my observation post from which I would watch the
world as it passed right before my inquiring young eyes. I am humbled
that my sister and I still own this place where I was so fortunate to
have been born.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Uncle Em Was A Skillful Bulldozer Operator
What locals now lightheartedly refer to as Mt. McIntosh
is the overpass that the state road department created some twenty odd
years ago. It allows the Oglethorpe Highway to bridge the CSX railroad
near the intersection of Ga. highway 196. Originally this was The
Atlantic Coastline Railroad and US highway 82. Presently it is US
highway 84. Seems government of any level is never content to leave
things alone.
Well having recently celebrated my birthday after becoming seventy years old or maybe young I'm proud to say that I remember the original Mt. McIntosh or actually all three of them. They were the highest points in the area rising up into the sky to a height of probably around forty or fifty feet. They were massive man made hills with wide bases as they spread wider with each passing day from the continuous stream of golden pine sawdust being dragged to the pinnacle by a huge combination belt and drag chain traversing a long roller coaster of sorts on a wooden trough supported by a continuous network of polls standing above the golden hill snaking a trail up the slope of the ever growing pile. From a distance the chain trough structure looked like a long elevated walk bridge to the top of the hill. Much like a giant diving board atop the sawdust pile.
Well having recently celebrated my birthday after becoming seventy years old or maybe young I'm proud to say that I remember the original Mt. McIntosh or actually all three of them. They were the highest points in the area rising up into the sky to a height of probably around forty or fifty feet. They were massive man made hills with wide bases as they spread wider with each passing day from the continuous stream of golden pine sawdust being dragged to the pinnacle by a huge combination belt and drag chain traversing a long roller coaster of sorts on a wooden trough supported by a continuous network of polls standing above the golden hill snaking a trail up the slope of the ever growing pile. From a distance the chain trough structure looked like a long elevated walk bridge to the top of the hill. Much like a giant diving board atop the sawdust pile.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
On The Passing Of Sawdust Piles
McIntosh is located nearly in the center of Liberty County. At least the
portion of Liberty County which remains outside of the Ft. Stewart
reservation. From the top of Mt.McIntosh if you look to the North East
towards the sprawling concrete and asphalt plants presently resting
there, that is the location of the once huge mill or at least the main
mill as there were two other mills in McIntosh. The mill complex was all
of what comprised the Fraser Lumber Company. It was one of the most
elaborate sawmill and planer mill operations in the south east just
after the end of WWII. The mill was the economic engine that supported
my family as well as most of the rest of those living in the community. A
lost and mostly forgotten town now but it was my home and it was a very
special place. It remains to me and the remaining natives indeed a very
special place.
Monday, April 8, 2013
What Used To Be...
McIntosh is now just an intersection of highway 196 and 84 slightly east of the viaduct known locally as Mount McIntosh. The viaduct rises up
to become the highest vantage point in all of the community about the
same height of the monstrous sawdust piles located at the mill's. Now McIntosh is almost forgotten but in my early youth it was a thriving
community. We had a post office and it was in operation until after zip
codes were implemented. That's interesting because I remember when there
were no zip codes. Never the less McIntosh's zip code was 31317.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Low Country Jam #23
Yesterday was a good day In McIntosh at the
Greenhouse. We celebrated the thirty year anniversary of the original
"LOW COUNTRY JAM". It was also a celebration of my
starting the seventh decade of my journey through this adventure which
we call our lives journeys as we grow up and in the process also grow
old or older.
The Greenhouse hosted about a hundred "homeboys and homegirls" as they attended the event at my Grandmama's house. My Grandmama's house is in fact the Greenhouse. We are located in the western edge of McIntosh, Ga. 31317. McIntosh
is centrally located in the eastern half of Liberty County which is
outside of that "area" of Liberty County which was taken from the owners
in order to create Camp Stewart, Ga. The event at the Greenhouse was attended by approximately one hundred friends who also are members of the "INNER CIRCLE". We were entertained by our own Greenhouse band featuring Tommy Davis for the first hour. Rodney Riley and the Midway All Stars performed next. They were followed by our own Olin Fraser, Jr in a grand performance. The last "set" was an outstanding session brought to us by Jimmy Wayne Renfro and his band.
Stay tuned as we go forward.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Grand Opening!
Coming soon, the (mis)adventures of the area formerly know as McIntosh, GA 31317.
http://i.imgur.com/lxmVfs.jpg
http://i.imgur.com/lxmVfs.jpg
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