62 Stuart Ave (now known as Carlson St.)
Sometime around 1932, we had an opportunity to move to another house on what was then Stuart Avenue and was numbered 62. [Pictured above] Since it was twice as large, obviously the rent doubled from 50 Cents per week to $1.00 per week. This seemed to give us so much extra space that Mom started taking in boarders. Most of the boarders were people with whom she was familiar, and many were from her mountain home place in Mouth of Wilson, North Carolina, and Fox, Virginia. This was necessary due to the low wages Mom made, which I recall to be around $8.00 per week.
During this period of time, on Saturdays, I would often sell apples for either Roy Johnson or Charlie Harris. These were two fellows that would go to the mountains each fall and get a load of apples. They would return to
Danville and enlist me and others to sell to the ladies-of-the-houses. We carried a ‘peck bucket’ of apples and went door-to-door. The pay for carrying those buckets all day was normally 10 cents or 15 cents depending on how successful we happened to be on that particular day. We would usually stop at some store and get a bologna sandwich and an R. C. Cola for lunch, which was paid for by either Charlie or Roy, depending on who we were working for that day. Each day prior to starting, I would inquire as to the type of apples we were selling that day. On one
occasion, I
mis-understood the type. When I was told we would be selling
Stayman Winesap apples, I understood it to be the same as
Winesap. When this one lady ask me the type, I told her I didn't know for sure but they were the same as
Winesap. That went over big!
I will always remember Stuart Avenue with fondness. It is difficult to imagine the cinder streets that consisted of coal cinders from Dan River Mills furnaces. I can recall watching them being spread from a Dan River Mills dump truck while some of them were still red with fire. They did, however make good streets for automobiles to roll on, but were not good for bicycles or skates.
There were also excellent sidewalks on each side of the street that were great for skating, a skill I became quite good at. It was once said that I could skate uphill faster than most boys could skate down. I can recall one downhill skate that turned into a disaster. I was skating down one night after dark and skated into an electric pole. I hit it so hard; it was heard from inside our house. Fortunately for me, I was not seriously injured.
Stuart Avenue was a great street. No one locked his or her doors; if you went to visit, you simply walked in. Everyone was friendly and everyone on Stuart knew every one else on that street. Contrast that with today’s environment and you can imagine the vast difference. In today’s world, everyone locks every door and hardly knows their next-door neighbor. What a change for the worse!!
Sometime in the mid 1930s, after we had moved, Mom was really overworked. It was difficult for her to raise three children, work in the Mill and prepare food for the boarders. I once heard her say that she had to have some help, so I set out to find her some. On the way to school one day, I came upon a black woman named Mary Morton who happened to be seeking a job. Times were hard and a lot of people were looking for work doing just about anything that needed doing. I asked her if she needed a job and her response was, “yes.” I gave her our address and she went for an interview with Mom. When I arrived home that day, Mary had a big tub of water boiling in the back yard and was washing clothes. She stayed with us for many years and practically became a member of the family. She was a great cook and as I recall was paid around $2.00 per week plus room and board. I don’t really recall where she slept but do recall she was a great person and a hard worker. I lost touch with her over the years but will never forget her. My sister, Edith, was much closer to Mary than was I and stayed in touch with her much longer. Suffice it to say, we both miss her and will never forget her honesty and integrity, character traits that are absent in similar individuals today.
Polly Dowell, Mary Morton and Lucille Cox. Polly and Lucille were two of Mom’s boarders and were distant relatives. They came from the mountains around Fox, Virginia.
Aaron Phipps was my uncle and is now deceased. When he died in he was a Minister of the Gospel. My memories of him include how frightened I was of him as a child. I recall having what my Mom would call a “Dillard Fit.” During a “Dillard Fit,” I would be on the floor kicking and screaming and crying for something I really
did not need. Aaron had such a deep rough, sort of scary voice, that if he appeared on the scene during one of these episodes, he would say as forceful as one could imagine, “Boy, get up from there and shut up!” That voice, in that tone, frightened me to death. I would immediately cease crying and kicking and screaming.
Aaron was a big gambler and drinker in those days and usually worked in a grocery store. Later in life, however, he was saved and turned to the ministry and was a wonderful Christian. I have always heard, “the worse the sinner, the better Christian one becomes.” This was certainly accurate in Aaron’s case. During the last years of his life, each time I would see him, he would say, “
Isn’t it wonderful to be a Christian?”
Around 1936 or 1937, there was a boy named Jay Moose that lived across the street and two doors down from our house. He always wanted to fight me, but for what reason, I don’t know. I tried to avoid him, in part because I was afraid and in part because I just
didn’t like the idea of fighting. It happened that Larry
Watlington, who lived next door to me at the time, became an intermediary for Jay and me. Jay visited Larry early one morning and told him he was going to beat the devil out of me and asked Larry to deliver the message to me. Larry woke me up with that message and it made me so angry that I went out and beat the devil out of Jay. The moral to that story is, never wake a sleeping person and garner for a fight.
We fought a lot in those days, though I don’t know why. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that we had little else to do. On the way home from school, I would usually get in a fight just about every day. Should I be fortunate enough to be winning the fight; that would be the day Mom would come by on her way from work, grab me by the ear, and drag me home with catcalls from my opponent calling me a coward for leaving. On the other hand, should I happen to be losing, I would keep looking for Mom to show up and save me and that would be the day she decided to go to town shopping. It was difficult to win with that type of luck.
I did learn one valuable lesson about fighting. There was a boy named Ray Chandler that I would bully on a regular basis. I threatened to beat him up so he would be afraid of me. I chased him every time I got the chance, really for no reason since he was a very nice person. One day I chased him and made the mistake of actually catching him. He proceeded to beat the stuffing out of me by bloodying my nose as well as other places. My Mom went to see his Mom and blessed her out about it. I learned from that event, if you are ever chasing someone you really don’t want to fight, make sure he stays in front of you and never corner him.
In order to feed the boarders and our family, Mom would make about two-dozen fried apple pies during the weekend and would keep them in the icebox for consumption the following week. Once, I was playing with my friend Elwood
Dorsett underneath the house. I smelled those pies and proceeded to sneak up to the kitchen to try them out. I took one for me and one for Elwood and they were so delicious I decided it called for two more. After several trips, the pies were gone and as usual, I received a whipping. However, it was worth it, since those pies were so tasty and so great.
Looking back, it seems strange to consider how far we have come in technology. I just mentioned our icebox, which had to have ice. Of the two Ice Companies operating during that time frame, Tudor Ice who was the most popular and
Danville Ice and Coal Company provided this service. We used Tudor and the amount of ice delivered was based on an ice card that hung on the front porch. It was “octagon shaped” and had the numbers 25, 50, 75 and 100 on it. If you needed 50 pounds of ice, you turned the card on the nail from which it was hanging so the 50 was at the top. On seeing this, the deliveryman would automatically grab a 50-pound block with his ice tongs and place it in your icebox. What a long way we have come since those days. I don’t recall the exact charges for ice, but I seem to recall that a 50 pound block would cost approximately 15 cents.
On Stuart Avenue, we boys spent most of our time shooting marbles. This was the main sport and was usually started by some boy who carried his marbles in a bag or his pocket. The proper way to get started was to say, “First shot on you.” If the boys were willing, then a circle was drawn in the dirt and one would put in the center the number of marbles they were willing to risk. The one that could shoot the most marbles out of the circle was declared the winner and got to keep the marbles he won. Some boys were so good they sometimes could amass as much as a gallon of marbles.
Playing “hop scotch” consumed most of the girl’s pastime. Of course everyone still knows about that game since it is still popular in most neighborhoods. Boys also enjoyed hopscotch, but it was considered a “sissy game,” so they tried to hide their love for it.
In the early or mid 1930s while at my grandmother’s house in the summer (which became an annual event once school was out), I realized that Claude Kennedy, her husband, was a very mean individual. I recall him kicking horses in the side for the slightest disobedience. He would also make me do the chores that would normally be done by his children, Delbert and Delano. Delano would do anything to get out of work. Once, when I complained to my grandmother that I was being forced to do all their work, she talked to Claude and the next time something needed to be done, he told Delbert to do it, and it was done without comment. However, the next time, when he told Delano, the youngest, to do something, Delano sheepishly said, “Have Henry do it.” What a pain he was. He grew up, and the last I heard was an over the road truck driver.
During the same period, grandma had a 1930 model Chevrolet that was a beauty. It was kept under a shed and had beautiful green corduroy seats. They only bought licenses for it semi-annually. I suppose that was because of the financial situation everyone was in those days. I recall in later years that the car became a mess since they allowed chickens to roost in it. Can you imagine all that chicken manure on those beautiful corduroy seats?
Years later, in the 1950s, I went to check on the car in the hopes of restoring it; however, I found the car to be so rusted and filthy, it was not worth restoration. It was amazing; the filth those people lived in. It was apparently by choice since my uncle, Clarence Kennedy, lived ¼ mile from them with a totally different life style. His house was always clean and one felt good about visiting and eating there. By contrast, at grandma’s, there was always food on the table accompanied by thousands of flies. All the while through meals, one would have to continue swatting them. It was terrible and I am surprised that we survived it
Sometime around the age of six or seven, I decided to start smoking. That was the worst mistake of my life and I feel I am paying for it now as I write this book. I would watch for other smokers to discard their cigarettes and would pick up their “duck,” as it was called, and finish smoking it. I recall one day, my dad had a visitor and they were sitting in the swing on our front porch. Dad’s visitor was smoking and Dad was chewing tobacco.
I was hiding underneath the porch waiting for his visitor to discard his cigarette butt. As I peeked up to see how much longer it might be, my Dad decided to spit out his tobacco and it landed right in my eye. That was probably the worst pain I ever experienced and I had a hard time explaining why I was under the porch and looking up. I obviously
couldn't tell about my waiting for the cigarette since no one knew that I smoked. I finally explained it by saying, “I was just playing.” Fortunately for me, Edith was on hand to confirm that I was just playing.
My best friend during this time of my life was my next-door neighbor, Willard Stokes. He was an only child and seemed to have everything that we could not afford. He always had the very best “store bought clothes” while Mom made most of ours. Of course we were envious of him, but always remained best friends. Willard never smoked, but he enjoyed watching me puff away. Often times, he would buy cigarettes for me just so he could observe me smoking. Regretfully, Willard passed away in 2003 in Roman Eagle Nursing Home and for that, I am truly sorry. His wife, Ruby predeceased him by about two years.
Willard’s parents, Grady and Belle Stokes were the greatest. Since Mom worked all the time, they would make sure that Edith and I had the proper clothing on each day for school and they were very caring people.
Edith and me in the mid to late 30s
Edith and I were instructed by Mom to share the household chores. I would usually wind up doing very little by talking Edith into doing both our shares. For example, we were supposed to take turns washing the dishes after Mom left for work. I would convince Edith it was her turn when really it was mine. After arguing awhile, I would say; “Let's just start over; you do it this time and I’ll do it next.” That worked every time I tried it.
Around 1935, Dad had an accident while working in the Mill. A shuttle from a loom flew out and hit him in the stomach. He had some sort of disagreement with the Mill and was discharged. He then became a “stay at home Mom” and did the cleaning and cooking. He could make the best biscuits I ever remember eating. I will never forget the wonderful breakfasts he would prepare consisting of hot brown biscuits, lots of eggs over light and sausage with lots of milk gravy. He was such a great cook!
He was extremely jealous of Mom and they argued and fussed continuously. It was very frustrating for both Edith and I. It finally ended when I was eleven and Mom called Dad’s oldest son,
Pressley, to come and get him. Dad wound up working at Clark’s Dairy in
Ringgold and had a small one-room house for living quarters. Carl, another son of his also worked there and lived in a larger house with his family. Each summer for two or three years, I would catch the train to
Ringgold for 10 cents and visit him for a few days. Dad passed away in the mid fifties at the age of 75. I regret the fact that I did not visit him as I should have, nor did I contact him, as a son should. I guess we just grew apart due to the circumstances surrounding his and Mom’s problems, which were very unfortunate.
Edith, Robert and I were very close throughout this period of time and on up through our early teens. We covered for each other and each had a loving respect for one another. My Dad really believed in corporal punishment, at least as far as I was concerned. I was the recipient of most of Dad’s wrath through daily whippings, many of which were very severe and harmful to me. He would never touch Robert since Robert was not his son.
At that time, he would never whip Edith because at an early age he had whipped her to the point he was fearful for her health and did not want to risk a calamity by doing her severe harm. That left only me to beat up on and he did that in good fashion. I must admit, most of it was justified, but not to the extent I was punished. One day I received 15 whippings. He would often chase me up and down Stuart Avenue and when I would tire him out from running, he would make Edith chase me. She would run after me while yelling, “Run faster Henry so I can’t catch you.”
One of my memories includes my friends and me going up to the railroad track and making faces at the hobos. This would cause them to throw clumps of coal at us, which we would gather up and take home for our laundry heater to keep us warm.
One day Elwood
Dorsett, one of my very good friends and I were playing together and were in Edith’s room snooping as we liked to do. I looked in her little cedar chest and observed a dime in there. I picked it up and then put it back. We left to ride our homemade wagon down the street. We coasted all the way to the small bridge leading to Merchant’s Dairy in
Newtown that is now known as
Edgewood. As we crossed the bridge, with Elwood driving the wagon and me riding behind, I heard Edith yell from our back porch for me to bring her dime back.
When I responded that I did not get it, Elwood said, “Yes you did, Henry, here it is on the wagon where it fell from your pocket.” I knew then that he had taken the dime and was now afraid and was blaming it on me. Because of this, I received a tremendous whipping for something I did not do. My opinion of Elwood changed dramatically, although we still remained friends for many years. Elwood passed away at an early age for causes
I do not know; I think he was around age 40.
Henry playing cowboy
Most everyone in these days listened to the Lone Ranger on the radio, since there was no such thing as television. The program was very exciting and kept everyone that listened in suspense. I was no exception and was a loyal fan of the Lone Ranger and Tonto, his friendly Indian companion, as well as his sturdy steed, Silver. Merita Bakeries sponsored the entire program. They did everything possible to make it a huge success.
One gimmick they used was a Lone Ranger club membership. To join, you were required to mail in a certain number of Merita bread wrappers and for this they would send you a membership kit that consisted of a secret code, a Lone Ranger mask and several other items to promote Merita bread and the Lone Ranger. It was a good program that gave kids something to do during a time and in an environment with really little to do. It would be nice if today’s children could have similar programs rather than all the many expensive toys they have access to in today’s world.
