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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview H-0278, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Margaret Skinner Parker was born in Ireland, but in this interview she discusses her experiences working at the company store of a cotton mill in Cooleemee, North Carolina. She and Mrs. Isaac Hall Huske, another Cooleemee resident, remember some of the daily routines of this mill town, dwelling on what they did for fun: singing, attending church suppers, competing for prizes at craft fairs, and watching movies. But life in Cooleemee was not all fun. The pair remembers also the privations of the World War II period and the strike that shut the mill down and led to some economic hardship. This interview is not particularly detailed, but will be useful to researchers trying to form a broad picture of southern mill town life in the first half of the twentieth century.
Margaret Skinner Parker recalls life in the mill town of Cooleemee, North Carolina, in the first half of the twentieth century, sharing recollections of fun and financial struggle.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
Peggy, give me a little bit of information about your family, like your parents' names and where they came from.
Well, my father's name was Hector Frasier Skinner, and my mother's name was Emma Jane—she was a Rickelton before she married my father.
Rickelton?
Yes. And she was English and he was Scottish.
And how did they meet?
That I don't know. You know, you're going back sixty, seventyfive years
Did they meet in this country?
Oh no, no; they were married over there. We lived in Scotland—in fact, Mollie and I were both born up in the highlands of Scotland, in Inverness, Scotland.
And did you live there for a long time?
Well, I was born in 1909 and lived there 'til 1918.
And then?
Came over here.
To North Carolina?
No, to Alabama. You see, my father had pneumonia a number of times, and
they turned him down for all of World War I work. So the doctor thought
it was best that he get out of the country completely, so they broke up
housekeeping and all the rest of it. During 1918 it was hard to travel.
So his mother lived in Scotland, and we were in Liverpool, England
waiting for passage. And he and my mother met Grandmother Skinner at a
cousin of my mother's in England, Sunderland, England. And he took that
1918 flu.
Of 1918?
Yes. We had passports, tickets and everything, and all we were waiting for was just available space—because the ships were used for other things. So then this cousin of mine now who's the retired Army nurse, she was eighteen; so she took my daddy's place. She came with us, because her father was already over here; he came over here in 1914. He was living in Alabama. And they wouldn't let her mother and her sister leave England because they were doing Red Cross work, so Marie came with us.
Marie was your cousin?
Yes. That was why we went to Gadsden, Alabama, because that was where uncle lived. Mother kept house for all of us until my aunt and cousin came over in 1919, after the war.
And then what happened?
Well, then my mother came up to Winston-Salem. I had a god-mother, who was with the Jack Glenns in Winston-Salem, was a nurse for the children. And they wanted an English or Scotch nurse, so she got mother to come up here to Winston. So mother went to work for the Hanes.
OK. And which Hanes family was it?
That was the Robert M. Hanes family. She went there when Frank Gordon was eighteen months old; then they had a daughter after that. And Mother worked for them for twenty-seven years, until she died.
And she died in…
In '49. Well, then my aunt's health got bad, and so Mother wanted to stay
nearer her. And since she lived with the Hanes family, see, we
And you lived there. When did you go there?
Well, I must have gone there about '21 or '22, because I graduated in '27. I went through the seventh grade and four years of high school there, and I graduated in '27.
And that's from high school?
But the high school was there on the grounds. We all had jobs, you know, and it just so happened my class always went to school in the afternoon. We went to school at one o'clock, and I think we got out at four—but, see, we had one class right after another. Then we went into study hall about six thirty to eight-thirty or nine; and, I mean, we had to study!
I'll bet you did
We weren't allowed to do anything else.
What kind of courses were you taking? Is that where you learned to be an accountant?
No. They put me in the office over there; that was what work I would do when I wasn't in school. But then when I graduated from high school I went to Draughn's Business College.
OK. Where was that?
In Winston-Salem.
OK. And how long was that?
Well, just about a year. And Claytie Koontz from Cooleemee, whose father
was head of the tenant farming and the cotton buying, she went to
Draughn's Business College. And so I met her there, and we got to be
friends.
What do you mean he was head of the tenant farmers?
Well, see, the company had farms, and these colored people (like the Pruitts and the Watkins and different ones of these families, their children—of course they're all grown now), they had farms. They worked farms that belonged to the company, see. And Mr. Koontz was over them, and then after him it was Mr. Tatum, Carl Tatum. They raised mostly cotton, you see. And so when they sold the cotton, then from one season to another the company store, the J.N. Ledford Store, they carried their account, see. But the OKs came from whoever was the man in charge.
Exactly what was the arrangement between the company and the tenant farmers?
Well, we carried their accounts from one season to the next. And then when they sold their cotton (which they sold to the mill)…
Did they have to sell it to the mill?
Well, I think that was the arrangement.
It was mill cotton.
Yes, it was mill land, see. So then they paid up their bill. And I understand years ago when Mr. Ledford was there, when they would come in there was a long front desk there and there was a bell under there. And when they would come in Mr. Ledford would ring that bell, which told the clerk that these people, you know, had money—in other words, get busy and sell. Because back then you bought, I think, your children's clothes about maybe once or twice a year, see: you bought everything you needed while you had it.
Well, did the tenant farmers ever have much money left over? Or what was their income?
Well now, I don't know what arrangements they had. Of course, they finally did away with the farms. You know, I think they made Durham the central cotton buying place. And then these farmers, of course a lot of them had gotten older by then.
You take this Housch family… Now, they came from Georgia (I think a lot
of them did). And they said when they had to change trains in Atlanta
(they had
OK. Was she the mother of the family that came?
That was one of the families.
OK. Do you have an idea of when they did come?
No. Now Mr. Jarvis or Mr. Safley might be able to fill you in on that.
Well, so when you came in 1928, the company…
Well, I visited from then until '34. And then Claytie Koontz (well, she was Claytie Marley then), her husband was being transferred to Durham, so she called and wanted to know if I would come down.
And take her job?
Yes. And that's when I came down and got off of the train at the Junction.
OK. Now describe that trip to me, your entry into Cooleemee. What
The day I came down here? Well, I came on the train from Winston-Salem.
And then when I got to the junction the conductor told me this is where
I got off; and that was just like being dumped in the Sahara Desert.
Now who was Mr. Smith?
He was the manager of the store: J.E. Smith.
OK. And that was during the summer of '34?
That was the twenty-second of March, after that awful ice storm they had in Winston-Salem. And then when I got here, you know at that time the hotel was used for teachers and clerical help and any of the young men graduating from State that came here to learn the cotton, the textile business. And there wasn't no room down there.
There wasn't? What did you do?
So Mr. and Mrs. Tiller (Mabel Alexander was in charge of the hotel at the time) lived in the house next to the Methodist church there, and that was her parents. So I had to go up there and stay, in a room that didn't have any heat in it.
And that was in March [laughter].
That was in March, after we'd had this awful sleet and ice storm. And it was cold and rainy!
Well, what was your reaction to Cooleemee after
Well, I look back now and I wonder why I ever stayed. I think one thing that kept me in Cooleemee, to start with: my uncle said (see, I had never lived in a place this small), my uncle said (I was living with them at the time) "I'll give you one month down there." Well, at that time, you know, the houses here had the big heaters in the middle of the room.
Kerosene heaters, or coal?
Or coal, one or the other. And they had one in the living room, and this bedroom was right off the living room. And one night I went to bed and I heard all this noise, and I thought it was that heater. I just knew something was happening. Come to find out it was the water going over the dam.
Oh really?
Yes.
Was it a high flood?
Well, on account of that weather, I guess, the water was up (you know, all the rain that they had had).
And you could really hear it clearly? It was like a flood?
But the girls down at the hotel felt sorry for me, so
Well, what was your adjustment like to the town? You hadn't lived in a place this small. And had you had any association, really, with textiles?
No.
Well, what was your impression of the town like? What did you see when you came in?
Well, I'm going to tell you what Mr. Smith told me when he talked to me. He said, "Now, of course all these people work in the mill. But the people in Cooleemee are above the average mill people. They're very nice people," and he says, "and they're, I think, sensitive to the fact that a lot of the mill communities, you know, didn't have the best reputations." So he said, "You want to be careful."
Careful, about what?
Of anything that, you know, you might say, or any reaction I might have to something. So I was so afraid that I'd hurt somebody's feelings. And I met so many people; and I couldn't remember everybody at first, you know, until whoever I saw I spoke to them. Oh, you know, sometimes through the years, just like everything else, I'd say, "Well, I'm going to leave Cooleemee." And my mother'd say, "You'll never have the friends anywhere else that you have in Cooleemee." So I stayed.
I did, from '34 on.
Well, what was the store like, and what was your job like? What did you do?
Well, I was in the office, with Miss Minnie Dula.
And then she had a sister that they always called Miss Gertie; that was Mrs. Swicegood.
Gertie Swicegood?
Yes; well, she was Mrs. Tom Swicegood. But some of those Dulas had been in that store, I guess from the beginning of the store in a way. But Minnie and I worked in the office together. And at that time people got paid on Tuesdays. And we always had to have the accounts all ready for the two o'clock shift coming in, because they'd come in and pay on their bill.
Did most everybody in town have a line of credit?
Well, any credit was governed by the manager, really. And, see, it was referred to as the company store; so, you know, in a sense they felt like that the store owed them a living, see.
Who did? The workers did?
Yes. Now, the company had nothing to do with the accounts, other than
that they were the controlling stockholder. But, I mean, they didn't
interfere with who could and who couldn't buy; they stayed out of it.
And at that time it really wasn't the company store, in the sense of the
word, because they had stockholders. Now, later on, Erwin did buy out
all the
Well, who were the other stockholders? Were they local people?
Well, there were the Terrells; Mr. Terrell, I've forgotten what he did here, but anyway he had died.
And how do you spell his name?
T-e-r-r-e-l-l. You know that Terrell Machine Company in Charlotte? Well, that's one of the sons, a Terrell.
Do you know his first name?
Mr. Terrell in Charlotte? It was Ed.
Ed Terrell in Charlotte, OK.
And then Mrs. Graham, "Capt'n" Graham's wife (he used to be in the office here), she was a Terrell. Then there was another one, a man: I've forgotten his name. He's in Charlotte too. When Mr. Terrell died, you see, his stock was divided between those three. But anyway, there was the Terrells. And Mrs. Ledford was still living. And Mrs. Ledford was a sister to J.B. Ivey, of Ivey's.
Ivey's Store.
Yes. Let's see: There was the company, and the Terrells, and Mrs. Ledford, and then Mr. Smith, the manager—the manager for the store always had some stock.
And so when you got here, then, there were stockholders in the company1 —I mean, just part of the stock.
Yes. So really, even though it got that name… The people, I think,
thought that the company owned the store completely, but at that time
they really didn't. Later on they did. I don't remember now when that
was;
Well, tell me some more about Tuesdays.
Oh, on Tuesdays when they got their checks, then they would come in, see, and either pay their bill or pay on their bill.
And most everybody kept a bill most of the time?
Yes. You see, the men that were in the grocery department, L. D. Driver and Mr. Jarvis up here, and Monroe Ridenhour (I don't think Mr. Everhart took orders, but anyway), Mr. Safley was in there, they went around and took orders. And we delivered. Now, back then people were allowed to keep cows and chickens in Cooleemee, see.
Where did they keep them?
In their backyards. And then out like where Ruffin Street is now, I think, out in there there were areas where they kept their hogs.
Slaughter Pen Woods, is it?
I guess. And we sold feed in these big bags—you know, like hundred pound bags.
And people just bought this?
They bought, and the stuff was delivered to them.
So, well, your line of merchandise was virtually anything anybody would need, right?
Yes.
Clothes and food.
Yes. They had a men's department, and then they had one for the women;
and then what they referred to as dry goods, you know (piece goods and
all of that), and then the grocery department. Now, at that time, of
course they always had a hardware department. They had very little
furniture
You never had a day off? What was your schedule?
We worked six days a week. I worked from eight to five.
Six days a week. You just had Sunday off? And what about vacations?
Well, I don't remember vacations back then, to tell you the truth.
Well, do you think you had them?
No, I don't think so; not as scheduled—like you say today a week's vacation goes with the job, or something like that. It seems like, if I remember right, that you could ask for some time off; whether you got it or not, that was another thing.
Well, do you mind telling me what your salary was when you started?
Eighty dollars a month [in 1934].
Did that pretty much take care of your needs?
And out of that I paid twenty-two fifty a month for room and board.
Was that at the hotel?
Yes. And then later I had a room to myself, and I think I paid twenty-five then. And when I left the hotel in '59 we were paying seventy-five dollars a month. Now, of course that hotel wasn't, you know, like people think of a hotel.
What was the hotel like? It was owned by the company, wasn't it?
It was owned by the company, and they always had a manager. When I first came here all the women stayed upstairs and all the men stayed downstairs.
Really? Was it like a boarding house more?
Yes. You went in and you ate whatever was there; you didn't sit down and order anything.
It was family style.
They had some long tables, it seems like, that there were, say, six or eight at a table. Later on they had tables for four people, after Mrs. Moore came.
Who was the manager of the hotel when you went there?
Mabel Alexander.
And she was paid by the company and managed all the budgets?
Yes, she just had control of the hotel. She was a Tiller.
Mabel Tiller Alexander.
That's the reason I stayed up at her daddy's house.
OK. So your average day would have been to get up in the morning and be at work at eight.
And walk.
And walk from the hotel down to the square, the company store.
Yes.
And what was in the store? What was your day like?
Well, you kept busy all day long. Of course both of us would wait on the people. My work was a little different from Minnie's, because Minnie did more of the posting the books and that kind of thing, where I had to, you know, handle the regular bookkeeping for the store. And Mr. Smith at that time didn't account to anybody but to Mr. Lewis; Mr. Lewis was working.
And who was Mr. Lewis?
Mr. Lewis was president of the company at that time: K.P. Lewis.
And that's L-e-w-i-s?
Yes. I never will forget: I didn't know Mr. Lewis, and it was during the
world series. You know, we had that barber shop under the store—we
didn't, I mean there was one: Mr. Morton ran it. And this man came in
the store, and he wanted to see Mr. Smith. So I told him he wasn't here.
And he said, "Well, where do you think I could find him?" And I said,
"He's probably down in the barber shop listening to the series." And he
thanked me and went out. When he was out of hearing reach Miss Minnie
looked at me, and she said, "Do you know who you were talking to?" And I
said, "I have no idea; a salesman, I suppose." She said, "That was Mr.
K.P. Lewis, president of Erwin Mills. And you told him Mr. Smith was
down in the barber shop!"
Did that cause you any trouble?
No. I imagine Mr. Lewis thought that was just par for the course.
When it was cold outside, you know, did people stand around in the store and talk a lot? Or was there a potbellied stove?
They would, just like when that first shift came off at, I think it was two o'clock then.
Two o'clock in the afternoon?
Yes. They'd come in. We had a great big icebox (bigger
than that), [wardrobe] and they'd come in—that's where the drinks
were—and get a drink. Some of them'd stand there, and they'd open their
drink; and they'd just stand there and let every bit of it go down well
And so there was kind of an atmosphere around the store; you know, everybody just would mix it up.
Well, you know, as far as the store was concerned, if anything happened in the store, they… Just like, the first time they ever had auditors in there was in 1938 or '39. And when the people found out that auditors were in there, oh, they just thought that was terrible.
Why?
Well,
Were you ever afraid to walk around here at night?
No. I'm not now. I just thought the other night: where in the world could you walk a dog at ten or eleven o'clock at night, or tie the dog out in a backyard and go back in the house, knowing that she was going to be there when you go back out? But I have never … and I lived alone, too, but I have never been afraid in Cooleemee. And, like I say, I'm still not, 'cause we just don't have those kind of things happening around here.
Go ahead and tell me about the auditors; I'm curious.
Oh, the auditors? Well, the people'd see me, you know, going to work with them and going back home with them. I don't know what they thought; I think they thought they had me just like a deputy, you know, for the prisoners.
The company.
[Excerpt deleted] OK. Now that we're back on the record, can you tell me: the auditors were brought in by Mr. Lewis?
The auditors were brought in, well, by the directors really, because I think Ed Terrell had something to do with it. And they had these auditors come out of Asheville; I don't remember their names (the name of the company) now. But anyway, the thirty-first of January of that year, [1938?] here they walk in, about five or six o'clock—because I don't think I was in the store when they came in. And they got experienced help (like from Ivey's and places like that), like an experienced man in hardware and different departments. They got them to come in, and they worked all night and took inventory—I didn't, but they did.
That was 1939 or '38?
It was, I guess, about '38.
OK. And so they took inventory, and that was to find out what the store had?
That's right.
The store didn't know what it had in stock?
Well, they took inventory; they always took inventory, but not like the auditors wanted them to. So those auditors were here, it seems like a month or more. So people saw me, you see, all the time with the auditors.
Did they distrust you because of that?
No. But I think it raised a little suspicion, maybe, in their minds, that they didn't know what was going on.
Were you able to tell them?
Well, I didn't bother.
In other words, nobody asked you. It was just kind of a sense of unease.
No, it didn't bother me a bit. But see, back then they really didn't understand what auditors were, I don't think. But anyhow we would work; we'd go to work anywhere from eight to nine in the morning, and some nights we were working 'til ten or eleven o'clock there in that store.
Well, what was the upshot of bringing in the auditors? What happened?
Well, as a result Mr. Smith retired. That's when Baxter Young was brought in as manager. He's the one that ran the cafè down there. And then that's when they remodeled the store and put in the self-service grocery, and did away with charging where groceries were concerned.
You couldn't charge groceries any more?
No. And that was an uproar too.
What was the reaction to that?
To the people?
Yes.
Well, they didn't like it. See, they had never had anything like that around here. These supermarkets were just more or less starting.
So the people really just expected the store to take care of them, fulfill all their needs?
Truly, they did to a big extent.
And most of the people in Cooleemee would have bought virtually everything they needed right there at the store?
Well, you see, at that time they didn't have the opportunity
Well, did the store buy vegetables and things like that from local people to resell?
Yes. Sometimes people would bring in eggs and that kind of thing and trade it, see.
So you could barter with the store?
That's right. And, like, J.C. Sell, we always had a big ad in the Cooleemee Journal. But Mr. Sell really, in turn, spent
that money in the store.
I see, OK. Did a lot of people barter?
Well, it would be people who had farms, I guess, mostly. But I don't guess it was anything for the people to come in with eggs and things like that. Then they'd give them a slip of paper, you know, and then they'd turn that in, and of course in turn that paper came back to our office—just like buying anything else.
Did the store sell company cloth?
Later it did; not then, but later.
Getting back to the tenant farmers, did the company sell them the cotton seed through the store? Do you remember that?
No, I don't think they did do it then. At that time it was probably handled, a lot of that stuff may have been handled through Durham, you see.
Then the tenant farmers were expected to sell their cotton back to the store. And most of the tenant farmers were blacks?
Yes, they are.
And they worked on company land?
Yes.
OK. Well, what was the square like when you came? What was down there?
Well, the store, you know, took up most of the … I don't know whether north, south, east or west—at any rate, that side.
West, due west.
And then below it was the bank and then the picture show (the movie theater).
What did it cost to see a movie?
Well, I don't even know; I don't remember. And then the post office. Then on the other side was the drug store, and above it was Dr. Byerly's office.
And what Byerly was that?
Dr. A.B., wasn't it? Baxter?
OK, and what else?
And "Miss Vic."
And a cafè?
Well, it was a cafè and meat market combined. One part of it was meat and one part of it was the cafè.
Who ran that?
Mr. Cope did at one time, and Baxter Young. And then after that Mr. Forrest.
And what Forrest was that?
Mr. Grimes did it one time; did it…
OK, Noah Grimes?
Yes. He was postmaster at one time too, but he ran that.
OK, I've got Mr. Cope, Baxter Young, Noah Grimes and then somebody else.
Mr. Forrest.
And which Forrest was he?
I've forgotten his name. He wasn't local; he had lived in, I don't know whether it was Statesville or somewhere. Then under the store was the barber shop.
And the barber was Mr. Morton?
Yes.
Do you know his first name?
Cul, Culvin.
How do you spell that?
C-u-l-v-i-n. C.P.: that's what his initials were. And then later it was Grimes Davis.
Tell me something about "Miss Vic." What was she like? She was Dr. Byerly's assistant or his sister?
Sister. They were a pair!
And what do you mean by that?
Well, of course most of the children were born at home, and Dr. Byerly and "Miss Vic" delivered them. You take Ruby Webb: had five children, and all four of hers were born at home except Jim.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
You were talking about "Miss Vic." And all the children were born at home.
Yes, at that time. But Dr. Byerly, it was either a son or a nephew that was up at Johns Hopkins, wasn't it? And, you know, they would keep him posted on the latest drugs. Now I had pneumonia…
Who do you mean "they would keep him… ?" The people at Johns Hopkins?
I don't know whether it was a nephew or a son; anyway, it was somebody close to him. But I had pneumonia at the hotel; I think it was in '45. And Dr. Byerly and "Miss Vic" took care of me. It wasn't exactly '45, because Dr. Kavanagh … We didn't have a doctor, anyway, for some reason; it was during that change, maybe, when Dr. Kavanagh had been in the service, you know, and all. But he gave me a prescription, and Jack Owen Moody went down to the drugstore and got it filled for me. I know, it seems to me like I gave him three dollars or something, which would have covered it, and he came back—he didn't have enough money. So I had this bottle of medicine; it looked like chocolate. And somebody was there at the hotel who was a nurse. And I said, "I wonder what this is." She said, "It's quinadine." I said, "What in the world is he giving me quinadine for?" But anyway, when he came that night I asked him what he was giving me. He said, "That is cocodiazine." That's when the sulpha drugs first came out; that's what he was giving me. But the reason he knew about that was on account of whoever that was; he'd keep him posted on that stuff.
But the ground was slick with ice, you know, and I just worried to death about him falling, because he was getting age on him then.
In '45?
And Ms. Moore told him about it, and he said, "Tell her not to
They were employed by the company?
No.
He was on his own?
He was on his own, yes.
And was he the only doctor here for a long time?
Yes. Now, Dr. Kavanagh came here in '38. Dr. Drewery was here before Dr. Kavanagh, I believe.
OK. And so what was the quality of medical care? Dr. Byerly and "Miss Vic" were pretty much all the town had.
Yes, but you got good medical care, because you got all that personal attention that you don't get today.
Well, were they local people? How did they come to be here? Do you know?
Well now, the Byerlys lived over here in Davidson County.
And so they were here when…
They were here when I got here.
Do you think they were here when the mill first opened, around there?
I don't know. You'll have to ask somebody older than me.
Well, do you remember when the Episcopal church started the clinic?
No, but it was started when I came here.
It was already operating? Do you know anything about how that came to get started?
No. But, you know, Ike Huske was the clerk over at
OK. We'll have to try and find that.
Now Wilson Wagner's the clerk now; whether he's got any of it or now I don't know, or whether those books are stored away over at the church, I don't know. But a lot of that stuff should be in the minutes.
OK. Well, was Mrs. Walter T. Green the nurse when you got here?
Yes.
And what was her work like? What did the clinic do?
Well, didn't she sort of come under the county health department too?
Later she did, yes.
What did she do? Well, you know, back then you used to have to take malaria shots—I remember that. You could go up there and get your malaria shots and it didn't cost you anything. And the schoolchildren, they got their shots. But that was open to anybody and everybody.
She used to check all the household help to see if they were in good enough health to serve food in the homes. And some of them had to go and take treatments there for venereal disease.
So it was open to anybody.
And any emergencies that arose, like broken arms, they'd bring it to her. And then if she had to get them somewhere else she'd see that they got to a hospital or somewhere.
Well, did she really compete with Dr. Byerly?
No.
No, they worked together.
Did he go to the clinic, or offer time to it? Do you know if there was that kind of arrangement?
You see, we don't really know.
Mrs. Green was Episcopalian, and so was Dr. Byerly.
And the church actually supported that clinic for a while, didn't it?
Well, the mill contributed.
The church and the mill together, I think. There's something in one of those copies you have that tells about it.
OK. Well, until the clinic was opened, then, you had to pay Dr. Byerly for your medical needs?
I know Baxter Young fell down the basement steps over there and broke his shoulder. And he went to Dr. Byerly and he set that collarbnne, or whatever it was. Anyway, it cost him thirty-five dollars. And then when Dr. Kavanagh came back from being in the service, I remember Cain Brodgen had to take one of the children down there for a broken arm, and it cost seventy-five dollars; and he about to have a heart attack. But, of course nothing was really high, you know, in the sense of today's living then, but I guess in comparison it was just about as bad. But when you look back and think what you got your medical care for, it's nothing.
I know something else interesting about Dr. Byerly. He liked to give Christmas presents to all his friends. And he'd give us a pair of pillow cases or something like that every Christmas, something that came from Dr. Byerly. And "Miss Vic" always gave presents on her birthday.
On her birthday? To whom?
I guess to friends.
Well, do you know if he bartered any for his services? Do you think?
I don't know. I would think that there were probably at the time some people that didn't have the money and paid him that way. I don't know that for sure. But when you read back in those times and all, especially like during the Depression, there's a possibility that he did.
Now Dr. Byerly had three wives. And when I came here as a bride…
In 19…
'34 … his second wife and "Miss Vic" came over to welcome me to Cooleemee. And I just loved that afternoon; they were so warm and welcoming. And one brought me a little jar of jelly, and the other one brought me a little bouquet of flowers. And I just loved that; I remember writing home about it. That was typical of the town then, too.
They say that Dr. Byerly said that the first time he married he married for love; and the second time he married he married to feather his nest. And the third time he married he married for companionship. But all of his wives were related some way: in-law or something.
Everything was within the family.
Did they keep dying? Is that why he remarried so many times?
Oh yes, they all died.
Well then, "Miss Vic" never did marry?
No, no, she never married.
What was it like to be a young woman coming to a mill town? Did you find companionship?
Well, see, staying down at the hotel I really had a good time.
What did you do on a date? I mean, what was social life like?
Well, that's a good question. Well now, really young people today don't know how to have a good time like we did. There weren't anything for maybe six of us (three couples) to get in a car and maybe go over there and sit on the rocks, you know, at the dam, and sit there and sing and all like that.
And was the park up on the hill ever used?
That was there. And Mr. C.E.B., in the summertime they had what they called a vesper services up on Park Hill. You know they had a bandstand up there.
What was it like?
Well, just like any that you've seen in parks.
It was like a little round pavillion-type thing on top of the hill.
Then the mill owned it, then?
Oh yes, they owned that land. And they used to have services up there, all the churches together.
And then on Sunday afternoon they'd have band concerts, and the people would gather around and listen.
Well, who made up the band?
We had a band made up of local people.
Local people?
Yes.
And Mr. C.E.B. Robinson directed it some, and Mr. Nail did.
Yes, Floyd Nail. They used to practice up above the store: see, what later was the furniture department, it was the recreation center. And the library was up there above the store too.
And so the mill ran the recreation program and the library?
And Mrs. Heathman and Mrs. Isley, who also worked as recreation directors, looked after that library. And when Mary Mayne came here to follow (who did she follow?)…
Now wait, let me get this: Ms. Heath…
Heathman.
Mary Bell Heathman.
H-e-a-t-h-m-a-n. She was a Bost; she was Sydney Bost's sister.
Well, she was a sister of the famous Bost in Raleigh who was a newspaper man, known all over the state, and also of Sydney Bost.
Sydney Bost.
And Ed Bost, the son, lives between here and Salisbury.
She was a librarian?
Well, she was like a social worker.
Well, they had a small collection of books which were there for the use of the people, but it was not really an organized library then. But I started to tell you that after they'd looked after that and the recreation…
What was the recreation like?
Well, let me finish one thing… Mary Mayne came.
Mary Mayne who?
Mary Mayne came and followed them as recreation director and librarian.
And she wanted to really organize the library. And I gave her my
And so in '34-35 the company was running a library.
Yes.
A small collection, yes. It was pretty good, though, for the people, and they enjoyed it.
You see, the mill hired Mrs. Heathman and Mary and Mrs. Isley. And Maude Graham was in there too.
Which Mrs. Isley is that?
Charles Isley.
And who was the other one?
Maude Bost.
And there was a Mrs. Bessent in there.
She was Maude Graham, and married Mr. Bost.
Ed Bost. But the band used to practice up in the other area, which was the recreation part.
When did they practice? At night?
Yes.
Yes, or…
Late in the afternoons.
Yes, late in the afternoons. And you'd be out on the square and this
noise would be sailing out the window. It was about to…
It was pretty good.
They were pretty good. They have pictures around here of the
I'd like to get copies of that.
And Mr. Riddle used to play at church; along with the organ they had him to play. He was a member of the band.
Which Mr. Riddle? Matt Riddle?
No, Lacy, Annie's daddy.
OK. And what did he play?
Was it a trombone?
I don't know; I'm not sure.
OK. So for social life you'd go down to the river and sit around the dam, or go up to the park.
Or go to the movie. But the movie closed after a while; I was so disappointed when it did. I was thrilled when I came to Cooleemee and found that it had a movie.
Well, you know, Eaton's had it there for a while, and then somebody else—I've forgotten. But he was the owner, wasn't he?
Fred Owen. And he was also an expert craftsman with wood. He liked to build beautiful things. And he saved us when the secretary door was broken; he fixed it for us. But you were asking about the prices of the movies. As I recall it, when I came here it was ten cents for children and twenty-five for adults.
Yes. And that was independent of the mill? Somebody was running that like a company?
Yes. But, you know, really Cooleemee to me, I mean it was a nice place to live. There were nice people here. And, like I say, you made your own entertainment and all, but we had bridge clubs.
The Cotton Club.
The Cotton Club for the young
Now what was the Cotton Club?
Well, Mr. and Mrs. C.E.B. started that. And my understanding is it was started for these teenage girls (when they came out of high school, wasn't it, rather than when they were in high school), really to help them.
Many of those girls never went off to school, and so they were trying to give them something in the way of recreation: just a way to get together and have some good wholesome recreation.
Well, and not only that, etiquette and all that kind of thing was brought in too.
Yes, that's true.
See, with that kind of a life, probably a lot of them wouldn't have gotten it otherwise. And then, like I say, he formed that choral group.
And then we had a Federated Music Club in the town for some years.
Yes. And the Home Extension Club, homemakers—what did they call it?
OK. The Federated Music Club: what did that do?
The North Carolina Federated Music Club, we met regularly and went to the
annual meetings in other places, and had guest speakers and guest
musicians in here. And the members practiced and performed
It really was.
And we had studies of different things, or different people in the club would give programs.
Oh, we always had a study course.
And was that independent of the mill, or did the mill concern itself with it?
No, this was just a group of people who were interested. And the Robinsons really were leaders in all of these cultural things; they contributed greatly to this town.
You know I was president of that music club more years than I should have been.
If there hadn't been the Robinsons, were most of the managers or managers' wives the people that were interested in these things?
Yes, and some other people too.
Well, was it done to try and broaden the horizons of the community?
Well, people who had an interest in music, of course, were included, and then, as you said, some of the managers and those people. And we had Louise Stroud from Mocksville, didn't we?
I don't remember.
I think so, and Helen Patner.
Well, she taught school out here.
Yes.
But why did you do it? They were open to…
For interest, yes.
And they were open to the public, and you would announce it in the newspapers?
No, it was an organization; you belonged to it, a membership.
You were asked to join, really.
And what was the choral group you were talking about?
Well, that was the Cotton Club girls, really.
And they would sing and give performances?
Yes. And then I guess they and the Music Club together, you know we did some good things: like at Easter, put on things at the school for the public.
Gave an Easter cantata every year too.
At the public school?
In a church.
In a church.
Yes. And didn't we do some things up in the auditorium?
Yes, I believe we did. And this is going back a little bit, but you asked what they did in the way of recreation. One thing they did was have a regular storyhour for the small children. And they would celebrate different holidays, and they'd have a parade or do something like that. I remember dressing Manning up as a pilot when he was about four years old, or five, and he marched in the parade.
It went from the square up to Park Hill, up that way and then back down.
But, now, people just didn't work in the mill and come home and go to bed—that kind of thing.
Oh, I'll tell you one thing that happened that's interesting. Mr. C.E.B.
Robinson held missions about once every year or so, and he'd invite
ministers. And he had two men from Canada here. And they went down
OK. And then Mr. Robinson had the service?
Yes, and the men who were visiting.
Well, what were you going to say, Peggy? You said people didn't just come home at night and go to sleep.
Well, I think from all of this, you see, they just didn't work and come home. There were things for those that wanted to take advantage, which really, I think, made Cooleemee what it was.
You don't think most mill towns had things like this?
Well, back then I don't think they did.
They might have had something, but I think this was really unusual.
OK.
I don't know, Cooleemee really wasn't like the average mill town. And another thing Mr. C.E.B. did: on Good Friday he had a service. Sometimes it was in the church, and then later it was in the school auditorium. You were in there three hours, see. And you could go in whenever you could and sit for as long as you could; but it was open so you could go in at any time and leave at any time.
The people were on shifts. Some could go one time, some another.
Well, what was church life like? Did everybody belong to a church,
A good many.
Many more so than now, maybe. Because, I tell you, back then we had a different class of people than we've got now.
Well, did the mill help the church? I mean, it gave the land to the Episcopal church, didn't it?
Well, it gave all churches the land. And then if the time ever came that the church had no further use for that land, then of course it reverted back to the mill—because no church has a deed to their land. And, see, that house on eight Marginal that used to be the Baptist parsonage, well, then when they decided to build that new parsonage and had no further use for that one, then the mill paid them for that house. And then they spent about ten thousand dollars remodeling it. But that's the way it worked.
Did the mill give other assistance to churches? Did it help fund the Episcopal clinic?
They were generous to all the churches, I think, when they had a chance to be.
But see, now the Episcopal church gets money quarterly from what they call the Erwin Trust Fund; Mr. Erwin was an Episcopalian. But other churches don't get that; I think we're the only ones.
And he built an Episcopal church wherever he built a mill?
I don't know.
I think that's what I heard.
I heard that.
Erwin has one.
Well, what did the churches do in terms of social events? Did
The Methodist church used to have chicken pie suppers. And Mrs. Click and
Mrs. Moody and some of those people that are gone now… Mrs. Click had a
wood cook stove in her kitchen, and they used to make those individual
chicken pies, and they served it up in the Sunday school area of the
church. And they'd have chicken pie, and they'd have slaw; sometimes
they had oysters. But I've often said … Dr. Kavanagh used to have some
pictures hanging on his walls, and they were faces. And one of them
would be, like chocolate bars (do you remember that?); the other one
would be cigarettes, and things like that. Well, I've often thought
about the Methodist church: if that Methodist church was fixed like that
you'd see chicken pies, chess pies, ice cream
Well, our church used to have (the Episcopal church) used to have bazaars—big ones. And they'd prepare all year, and they'd have all kinds of handiwork, and then they'd have food like candies and things and cake. And then during the day they'd have that. And I think for lunch (the middle of the day meal) they'd serve a meal, but it was a lighter one. But then in the evening the people could come off work and all; they'd serve a regular big turkey dinner. And I never will forget one year (I hadn't been here many years) I made all the cranberry sauce (homemade cranberry sauce jelly made in star-shaped molds to put on the table). They were beautiful.
Well, was that, like, in the 1930's?
Yes. And then another thing that we used to do was have fairs. And who
sponsored those fairs? That was the recreation department,
And what were the fairs like?
They had all kinds of beautiful things like crocheted bedspreads and all kinds of handwork.
That local people did?
Yes.
And they gave prizes. I got a few prizes when I was a brand new little bride, and I just swelled with pride.
Did a lot of the women in town knit and crochet and quilt, and things like that?
They did beautiful work.
Tat, did tatting.
Would they sell things like that at the fairs? Or pay money?
I don't remember selling; I know they had them on display and they gave prizes.
They used to sell them, because I know one year I had knitted a bedjacket and they wanted to know how much they should ask for it. And I told them, according to the wool and stuff. And I said, "And if you don't sell it I'll take it back." So I know from that that they evidently sold some things.
Who ran them? The company, essentially, sponsored the fairs?
Well, whoever was the social worker or whatever you want to call it for the company.
And these bazaars and fairs were held in the great big room up above the company store.
OK. And was that room also used as a meeting room for workers?
Yes, because I used to have the junior music club; that's where we'd meet, up there.
The beauty shop was up there too. You'd have to climb those outside stairs to get up there for all those things.
Yes, the beauty parlor was there when I came to Cooleemee. Mae Caudle had that.
She's Mrs. Howard now; lives in Mocksville.
And then at one time you had a dentist up there. [above drug store]
Dr. Pearman.
Yes.
How do you spell Pearman?
P-e-a-r-m-a-n. And then Dr. Mason later came down. And Mr. Bost had his office up there.
And what did Mr. Bost do?
He sold bonds. But then during the war when they needed nightwatchmen (you know, so many of them were gone and all) they asked Mr. Bost if he would take a job. But he took that job, and he was a nightwatchman. And he was just real proud, you know, making some money.
Do you want to take a little break? Stretch your legs and everything?
What's this about the POSA?
Over the meat market and the restaurant that was all combined there was a meeting room for the Patriotic Order of the Sons of America; they called it POS of A.
Now Mr. Jarvis could tell you more about that.
Howard Caudle belonged to that, I know.
Was that during the war?
No, it wasn't a wartime thing. It's a national organization.
I think it is.
Most people (of course it was men) had insurance with it, and also the—what is it?—Woodmen of the World. And later the union, that's where they always held their meetings.
Well, tell me. When you got here the mill was not organized; there was no union.
Wasn't organized. And another thing: they were in the process of putting in that big dynamo—you know, whereby they could operate on their own power if they had to.
Well, tell me what you know about the union, and how it came to be here.
Well now, in '34, that's when the National Guard was here. But that's because of these outsiders (and I'm almost positive they came from Gastonia) who came up here to try to organize this mill and to put up a picket line to keep the people from going in. And that's why they had the National Guard here.
How did that come to be? Were there local people working with them?
I don't know.
Well, what was it like? You worked here during the strike; weren't you working in the store?
Well now, that wasn't a strike in '34.
Well, there was…
Oh, the strike during the war; I was here then, yes. I think that was the
biggest strike that they had: if I'm not sure, that lasted from
Of what year?
Well, I don't know. It had to be in there between '42 and '45, because I know it was during the war when the boys were in the service.
What was that strike like? Was the mill organized at that time?
The mill was organized then, yes.
And what was the union, do you remember?
What is it, A.F. of L.-C.I.O., but I don't think the both of those were together at that time—maybe they were.
OK. Well, what happened to cause that strike during the war?
Well, I imagine it may have been on account of contracts; maybe they couldn't get together on their contract.
Did almost all the workers go out on strike?
Well see, all workers weren't union members; some weren't. And then, see, we had instances where women worked in the mill whose husbands were overseers. Well, of course those women didn't belong to the union. But they tried to keep the mill open.
Who did? The managers?
Well yes, as long as they could; but I think they finally had to close the mill altogether. And then of course picket lines were up. But the office people, you see, management had to get in there.
Was there a lot of tension in the town?
Not that I remember.
What year are we talking about?
That one we had in the forties, you know, that lasted from November to March. I may be wrong; somebody else may give you a better date on that.
That's when your father had… Well, he was an office worker, and they had a door from the office that went down through a sort of courtyard toward the mill. They'd send him down from the office with messages into the mill. And some of the people would stand out there where he had to come out and just taunt him, you know. Oh, I could have
But then, on the other hand, the store was on the fence.
How do you mean that?
Well, you're working for management and dependent on the labor part of it for the benefit of the store, see. So you had to stay on neutral ground.
Did people continue to buy at the store?
Yes.
Well, they couldn't go anywhere else; most people then didn't have cars.
And then the union had this place set up at North Cooleemee, in that brick building (I don't know whether they called it the Wall Building or what). But anyway, that's where they had to go every week to get whatever they were entitled to.
And then they'd come spend union money in your store?
They didn't get money.
They didn't?
They got food; they got the staples, the basic things like flour and cornmeal and, I guess, sugar, no doubt pinto beans—you know, that kind of thing. But we lost a lot of good people then.
How so?
Well, see, there was no work here, so they went north. Like some
Well, when it was over how did it come to be over? Was the contract dispute settled?
Well, they evidently came to an agreement.
And did life just kind of resume as normal?
Any time they had a strike, the people never made up that money that they lost, really.
So it really put hardship on most.
Yes. They had to gain something by the new contract, but even that never offset. Just like that big strike there—to be out of work all those months.
Didn't you tell me one time you thought it seemed so funny to think about the boys being abroad fighting a war, and everybody sitting around in Cooleeme?
Well, it wasn't just Cooleemee, it was everyplace in the country. I mean, that's just a personal opinion. But, of course the store kept right on.
Did the war hurt Cooleemee in any way? What was life like during World War II?
Well, the main thing was the boys that had to go—I mean, it took the men out of the country.
Did it take a lot of people out of the mill itself?
Yes. Some people, of course, were kept on account of essential jobs.
Your father was one of those.
Yes.
The draft board just let him stay because of his position?
Mr. Holt requested it. He was about ready to be called up.
But then on the other hand, you see, these mills were essential to the war.
Did the mill actually turn out material for the Army?
At one time we made some khaki material—government contracts.
Yes, I think we did. They also made some of that black cloth for—who was
the cowboy in a town that wore black all the time? They made some of his
cloth.
Gene Autrey?
No. Can't remember his name now, but anyway…
Well, what about rations? How did the war affect daily life? Weren't there fire drills—I mean air raid drills?
Oh yes.
We had something.
It was at that time that they were having to do some work on the little
house that we had on Center Street, and they moved us into this house at
7 Church Street where Mrs. Rice was living (and she was alone). So they
told us to come over and live here while they worked on our house. And
they were having air raid drills then, and Mr. Jarvis, who lived up the
street, was the air raid warden on this block. And we had a grate (and
all of us were sleeping in that room across the hall, in the one
bedroom) and it had a fire in it. And your father was working late at
the mill office, and
What about rations? Were you working at the store during the war?
Sugar was rationed.
Yes, and coffee, and gas.
But you know, frankly there at the hotel I can't say that we really suffered for anything.
We didn't suffer for anything, except we had two casualties in the
kitchen. We burned out a percolator and couldn't get another one. We
used an old tin coffee pot for the rest of the war. And my eggbeater
stopped working, and I couldn't find one high or low, in spite of the
fact that my father had a hardware store. We just couldn't get an
eggbeater. And Bright Carpenter's father had a little country store way
up there somewhere near Cherryville, and when she came back she brought
me a small, short, inexpensive eggbeater, which was probably the last
one in North Carolina!
Of course, the gasoline shortage, I guess, affected…
We had to really plan our trips to go shopping in Salisbury or anywhere,
and we could hardly get home. That was one of the things that bothered
me. My brothers were both overseas, and I could hardly get home to see
my parents. And they were there alone and, you know, suffering it out
Why was it bad?
That was when the fighting was so intense, and so many casualties overseas. You'd listen to the news every morning at breakfast and wondered if you'd hear anything about where your family was.
I never will forget, talking about the war, VJ Day. We were eating supper (we always ate at six o'clock), and I went upstairs. I was standing there at the lavatory and I had my radio on. And it said that the war in the Pacific was over. And I don't know, you just stood there and the tears just started rolling.
And the neighbors all gathered out in the front yard in the neighborhood on Center Street, and just stood there and looked at each other; we couldn't believe it was over. I remember that we said, "Isn't it wonderful that it's over." And then we started saying, "But it's too late for so-and-so, and too late for so-and-so." And it sort of took all the joy of the occasion out, you know.
Did a lot of women go to work in the mill since the boys were over-seas? How did they deal with the labor shortage?
Well, I guess that was it.
Can you think of anybody who would have done that?
Mabel can probably tell you about that.
Were there a lot of children working in the mill during the time you…?
Well now, you see, you've got your labor law.
Around '34 you did, yes.
And World War II was in the forties. So that protected that.
There's one thing that didn't get in talking about in '34 when the National Guards were here. Now, that's when all the churches had prayer services.
To pray for what?
The situation here, because people were really afraid.
Yes.
Afraid of what?
Violence.
Well, violence, yes, and this crowd that was coming in that were trying to organize (because as well as I remember it was sort of a rough crowd).
I remember the morning those people, the National Guard, came in. About six o'clock in the morning we heard all this noise coming down the road, the little road there in front of our house. And they were coming in, just a convoy of National Guard.
They were coming from Salisbury?
From that direction; I guess they were coming from there. It was the Pine Ridge Road, you know.
Well, did the mill request that National Guard come in?
I would think so.
That was my understanding.
END OF INTERVIEW