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. 

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.

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.     

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Before much time passed Daddy found a job with the Fraser family who owned and operated a logging and sawmill business in the McIntosh community beside the Atlantic Coastline railroad. Daddy would go on to spend twenty six years there while the mill grew and prospered before finally withering to it's end approximately fifty years ago.

There remains today in McIntosh many of the original sawmill houses which were sometimes called shotgun houses. I don't know what the shotgun reference actually came from but I suspect it was a reference to how they were quickly put together and almost always laid out in such a fashion that you could stand at the front door and see the back door through the interior.

After a short time working at the mill an acre of land was purchased from the Quarterman family by the lumber company. Thereupon a small four room structure was quickly erected and Daddy and Mama along with Em and the new little girl child June  as well as Homer all moved into their new home. I am guessing that the house was first built after 1940 but before 1943. I say this because June was born in the Downs house (later to be known as the Simmons house) just West of the Quarterman place. That is where my family lived while their home was being built. It was common for families to live in crowded  conditions with two or more families  living under small roofs in crowded conditions.

I entered this world in my Mama's bedroom in the early morning hours of the third of April 1943. I've always liked my birth date 4-3-43, a pair of sevens and a lucky number. When I was born Em was away at war with the Liberty Independent Troop of the Georgia National Guard. My middle name Emory was chosen to honor Em.

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

Periodically my namesake Emory Winters would spend weeks at the time pushing the piles ever higher with a bulldozer. He simply started up the pile pushing a strip six or so feet wide before a blade of two or so feet high. He slowly pushed to the top allowing the load of the blade to go tumbling down the far side of the hill. Ever carefully avoiding letting the machine beneath him tip over the top. He then lifted the blade and let the heavy machine roll to the base of the pile and start up again. With each pass of the trek to the top the hill grew wider and taller. At the height of the mills activity there were two satellite mills nearby. One was located on the lot which is now M&M Motors. The other was located on the edge of the Goshen swamp where the Liberty County School bus shop is now located a mile perhaps west of Mt. McIntosh on the south side of the highway.

As someone traveled east on the highway the three giant golden hills located within a half mile radius were indeed landmarks of that period of time.

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.

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.

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.

Grand Opening!

Coming soon, the (mis)adventures of the area formerly know as McIntosh, GA 31317.
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