The Days Before UPS, FedEx, Amazon and I-75

(And, Bradberry’s and Dyas are Long Gone)

 I could be wrong on this, as likely as that would seem to everyone. But, I suspect that most people under 50 years have not stopped to realize that there has not always been a UPS, a FedEx and certainly no Amazon.com. Yet, people all over the country relied heavily on goods being shipped to them that they ordered from various catalogs like Sears and Montgomery Ward. Maybe you ordered some chrome parts for your ’50 Ford Flathead V/8 from the J.C. Whitney catalog.  People routinely ordered clothes, live chickens, machinery parts and furniture and just about everything, literally, under the sun without so much as a telephone. Yes, you could even buy live chickens from radio station WCKY in Cincinnati, Ohio and WLAC in Nashville, Tennessee. There were probably other stations as well, that I did not ever hear, on the radio doing the same thing.

While today we are hearing talk of drones delivering merchandise to you the same day that you order it, maybe within hours, back in Sandy Point Times that was not the case. In fact the process for ordering could take two to three weeks and even more, depending on where the shipper was located and where the recipient lived.

Let’s say you needed a new tractor tire and Sears had the size you needed in their catalog. We could talk a lot about just the Sears Catalog but just remember you could buy clothes, a house, a new shotgun, or an automobile from the Sears Catalog! You name it and they had it! They had really cool motor scooters and motorbikes that you could dream about while sitting in front of the fireplace looking at page after page. Your grandmother had her pages marked. So did you and your grandfather. It was called the “wish book”.

So you get the order form out of the Sears catalog and you fill out the blanks with all the details and who you are and where you live. You might get a money order from the postman because you had no checks. (People even sent cash in the mail). You fold that all up and put it in an envelope and the postman would pick it up the next day. The order was on its way to Chicago.

In about a week Sears would have your order and process it and now they had to decide how it was to be shipped based on size and weight. Items that were too big for the post office would be shipped by one of about four companies, but in our world that company was The Railway Express Agency. The Post Office eventually got into the Parcel Post business.

The Railway Express was started by the government around the First World War after all the railroads were taken over by them to insure that goods could get from one place to another reliably. It was owned by a consortium of the railroads. The REA served as the connection between the business, the railroad and the customer. Nearly everything was moved across the country by rail as trucking was unreliable and almost non-existent on any national scale except on a local level. You could even get stuff shipped to you COD.

Once the item was shipped, it might take two to three weeks to make all the connections to get to your local REA location. Not every town had one. They were in business until about 1975 but should have been closed sooner.

The people in Sandy Point could get their shipment at the Roberta train depot where the item would be unloaded. They would send you a post card in the mail telling you your package or crate was there for pick up and that you had a certain number of days to come get it or it was going back! I do not believe they had a delivery service at that location but they did in larger cities like Macon and then, they only delivered in certain areas from that location. And, the railroads served most areas in those days.

They also had the “rolling stores” that came by every so often with sewing thread, liniment, cold cream and treats. The Watkins man came by with all kinds of products, too. And, doctors made house calls!

There again, it is amazing how much the country depended on the railroads in days past. Over the years, I have traveled up and down Hwy 42 from Roberta to Forsyth and on to Indian Springs, Jackson, Locust Grove and Stockbridge areas many, many times. I would always notice this sign at the Monroe County/Crawford County line area near Tobesofkee Creek on what I thought was an old store. The faded sign said “Dyas”. I often wondered about it until one day I decided to look up the history.

I was amazed to learn that there was a railroad depot there for the Macon-Birmingham Railroad (also referred to as the Macon-LaGrange Railroad) and that in its heyday they shipped 25,000 bales of cotton annually from there! Courting couples would ride their buggies down to see the train come in. The boll weevil put it out of business and it was closed and grew over with weeds. The rails were taken up and now the old building with the sign has fallen down. No one passing by would ever guess that such commerce went on in that remote location where the cotton fields are now all oaks and pines.

Now, the rails are gone in Roberta, too. The depot was closed but rescued for other use and stands today as a reminder to a bygone time when railroads “ruled the road” and people would actually wait three weeks or more for a package and think that was just fine! I would guess many pass by it without a clue to why it is there. Funny how other countries embrace railroads and high speed trains that run over 200 miles per hour.

In my area, bicycles now occupy the rail beds where the Silver Comet once ran. The last train ran on January 18^th, 1969.  The Nancy Hanks made its last trip from Macon to Atlanta in 1971. A trip to Atlanta on the Nancy Hanks to shop at Rich’s: now that was about as good as it got back when.

There is a great story about the lady from Macon who took the Nancy Hanks to Atlanta and when she and a friend got there, they went into the men’s bathroom at the train station by mistake. The story made the Atlanta Journal. But, we’ll let that wait for another day.

To add insult to injury, they built that interstate highway and politics put it through Macon. The bumper to bumper lines of cars passing through town from Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Indiana are gone. The six or so thriving motels and three or four restaurants, like The Pine Lawn, Hortman’s and Bradberry’s that sat along US 341 and were full all summer long are nearly all gone, too. Only traces remain of them now. A lot of local people worked in the restaurants including my mother-in-law and my wife on occasion when she was a teenager.

No swimmers are in the Bradberry pool and there’s no good warm pie on Sunday night after church there, either. Ms. Annie Braswell is not playing the piano at the Baptist Church, where my wife and I were married and Bob Hill drew funny pictures, anymore. And, there are no movies up in the theater on the town square.

And, do you know what? Maybe that suits everyone just fine. “Let ‘em have the traffic, the noise, the crime and pollution somewhere else and just leave us the peace and quiet!”

But it was exciting when you went to the mailbox and there was your REA postcard stating that the new tractor tire or the plow parts had arrived, or the new Icebox. Let’s get in the truck and go! And there it sat on the dock!

After it was loaded, you could get an ice cream or cherry Coke from the soda shop at Dr. Johnson’s drug store where my future sister-in-law worked at times. You might stop in Bankston’s for a few things where I bought my first shotgun for $26.50 , window shop the new dresses at Seagler’s and pick up any grocery items over at John Hicks’ store while you were there. W.F Andrews and Sons was there for your farm supply needs.

Who knows? There may be a day when a train goes through Roberta again on overhead rails that make no noise and the train does not even touch and people will pass through from Miami going to Atlanta and Chattanooga and New York in a few hours at 160 miles per hour using Magnetic Levitation. Who knows? They do it all over the world, except here. And when they pass by Dyas, they won’t even know it because there isn’t a sign left standing. And, maybe things are the way God intended.

 © 2015 H Jerome Chapman

Obsessed with Hand Sanitizer

Now, let me start out by saying that I have had some of the hand sanitizers around for years. This didn’t start with the Covid 19 thing with me.

History:

Traveling every day for years in my car across Middle and South Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee and later some in Florida, I found myself coming into contact with many situations that caused one too question the survivability of anyone coming in close contact. When you add traveling with a wife that has walked out of more than one motel, hotel, restaurant and B&B, having a means of self-defense was always necessary. Concealed carry had a different meaning.
Without painting too vivid a picture, let’s just say there have been public restrooms that would gag a buzzard. The State rest areas are great but are not to be found on the backroads and secondary highways. A sign saying Clean Restrooms means different things to different people. So, a bottle of Purell, Germ-X or Publix Sanitizer was always present in our vehicles.

Also, you’d find a roll of paper towels and a roll of toilet paper. I was admonished a few times by people for having the audacity to have a roll of toilet paper rolling around visible in the back of my SUV. But there were times I might have paid twenty bucks or more for a roll.

Some bathrooms required a lot of paper towels and hand sanitizer before I was willing to touch any part of them with my hands, not to mention any other body parts. Gasoline and a match would probably be the only way to completely cleanse some of them.

You would wonder why the location would have their bathroom key attached to a large and sometimes creative item to avoid you driving off with it. Things like oil cans, Ping Pong paddles, small baseball bats, and, in one case, a brick. You have probably seen others. That brick was a good idea in case you got locked in, maybe.

Pandemic

Then, the pandemic hit. I had a supply of all the above-mentioned items, so I did not panic when I went into Publix the first time and found all the shelves cleaned off. But I suddenly found myself pumping, spraying, pouring and wiping more than ever before.

The hand sanitizer, Clorox cleaner spray bottles and paper towels started being used up and I found myself going to Publix at 7:00 AM to be first in line and I’d make a Bee line to the hand sanitizer section: EMPTY! Then to the paper products: Empty! Clorox wipes: GONE! Panic has started to set in!

I still wasn’t out of anything, you understand. But it was the mere thought of not having these life saving items that caused me to wonder how I would cope.

A friend in need is, well you know. One of these friends told me he was saving his Wall Street Journals and he would set aside half of them for me! Half! Now that is a friend!

Then, I was in one day and they have some strange looking hand sanitizer. Kills 99.9%of Bacteria it said. Limit Two. I grabbed my two and hid them in the buggy to keep anyone from reaching in and getting them when I wasn’t looking. I almost felt like a shoplifter.

In the Sanitizing wipes area, they were still out of Clorox and Lysol wipes and I saw people looking at some off-brand wipes and putting them back. One lady said, “I don’t believe they are the germ killers.”I picked up one and looked very closely. In very small print it said Kills 99.9% of most common germs. I grabbed two before anyone had a chance at them. These were mine!

I was slowly being overtaken by the sanitizer obsession!

Then the odd paper towels showed up. Bounty was out so my loyalty ended. Any paper towel was now fair game! Toilet paper in a cardboard box showed up! Buy it!

I was there yesterday. The only Bounty they had was a 12 packs and the Charmin was a 12= 48 package. Jumbo rolls So big they won’t fit on my holders. As big as a small tree trunk! So I settled for another brand of more suitable sizes.

But now, Home Depot is in the sanitizer business. They must have two or three truck loads at the store across from Publix. No limits on theirs. So, I bought some. Then I was at Lowes. They had some. So, I bought some.

Then some showed up at Publix. Limit Two. I bought one. “Don’t be greedy,” I said to myself.

Now, I am stocked up with about 10 different hand sanitizers. Now I have to decide which one I want to use. Some smell like whiskey! More stress. Now I have guilt feelings.

I have five or six brands of toilet paper. More choices. More guilt feelings. No. I am not a hoarder!

If the Clorox No Bleach spray bottles shows up, I gotta have some! I’ll even take Lysol.

And Hand wipes!? Well they better look out when they get some of those in. I may go through the line twice! Home Depot. Lowes. WalMart.

Conclusion

I may need help!

Jerome Chapman
©July 2020

Sawmills and Slabs

You don’t hear people talking about sawmills much, these days. I guess most would know what one is. But, nobody talks about and few know about the slabs we use to get from the sawmills. Sawmills and slabs were important to my grandparents.

People today might recognize a sawmill if they saw one but if you type in wood slab in Google you won’t see what we got as slabs back in Sandy Point.

One of my neighbors stopped in the street yesterday and we were discussing the abrupt change in the weather as the first cold snap of the winter was moving in. We started talking about fireplaces and wood and then we started talking about wood stoves. This particular neighbor is one of the few in the neighborhood that is actually older than me and has actually been around wood stoves: not those newfangled ones but the old Home Comfort ones that Grandmother used to cook those delicious biscuits and apple pies. And, there were sawmills and slabs involved.

One of our sons lived in Spokane, Washington for a while and the house they bought had a pellet stove in the bottom level. Man! That thing put out some heat and used those pellets you buy in a bag.

The closest thing to that in Sandy Point would have been sawdust or shavings and 90% of it was burned in big sawdust burners at the end of the sawmill yard. Some was used on the floors of restaurant kitchens, butcher shops, chicken houses, and around muddy areas at the Georgia State Fair and horse stalls.

Here is an old sawdust burner. Imagine hot coals inside, flames coming out of the top and the sheet metal sides glowing red hot as you drove past in the dark of night! That was a common sight as the demand for dimensional lumber to build houses grew after WWII. The EPA would go berserk today!

The Open Air barbeque in Jackson, some of the best Barbeque in the State, had sawdust floors until the health departments started making those type places put in concrete or wood, etc. No more spitting on the floor! Sawdust and chips today go into particle board, pressed wood products, and charcoal for the barbeque grill and paper.

My neighbor said all of his aunts and grandmothers cooked on the wood stoves and mine did too and most I ever saw were the Home Comfort Stoves. I’m sure there were others used. But they all required fuel and were designed to burn wood which was more readily available than other fuels and coal, if used, was usually used in an iron coal heater that could take more heat.

The kitchen stove was fired up early. My grandfather would get up early and go “light the stove” to let it start warming up the kitchen and getting hot enough to melt lard and cook eggs and bacon and fat back. There was an oven for those biscuits and warmers at the top where my grandmother put two cups of coffee and bread for me and her youngest son, my uncle, who was only three years older than me. That was our breakfast when we got up. I still say Starbucks or Chic Fil A could sell them but they would need my grandmother’s biscuits!

But, that brings us back to the saw mills and slabs.

The fireplace wood, usually oak, was identified as “fire wood” and was cut and split, hopefully from last year’s wood or wood that had dried out. Sometimes it might be sweetgum or hickory but that darn sweetgum popped out hot coals everywhere. The trees were sawed down on the farm usually with hand saws until the Swedish guy invented the chain saw and people who could afford one got one. Those firewood pieces had to be the right size for the particular fireplace and might be twenty inches to thirty inches. Today, it’s a good Stihl chain saw and a log splitter. Or buy it off a wood lot. The log splitter back in Sandy Point was an ax.
Wood for the Home Comfort stove in the kitchen was “stove wood” and was usually pine. And the source of that stove wood at my grandparents’ was the local saw mill and most towns had a saw mill somewhere close. There were portable mills that were set up on large timber tracts and all of the waste was left behind and sawdust piles dotted the landscape in woods of the South. These were often referred to as “peckerwood” mills.

Sawmills in the Old Days of Sandy Point were terribly inefficient as far as yield of saw lumber from the tree. Not only did they generate mountains of sawdust that was mostly burned, they generated slabs. Modern mills use lasers and get a much higher yield and all of the tree gets used in one way or another. But in the old days a lot of the tree went to waste.

The sawdust eventually came to be used for fuel to kiln dry the lumber but most lumber was stacked outside and air dried back then. It would be rough sewn and then “dressed” when someone needed to build a house or construct anything needing finished lumber. The old barn on my son’s farm in Tennessee has all undressed oak lumber and it is still very stout after all these years.

There were two big sawmills near Sandy Point and the sawdust burners would glow at night as the sawdust burned and there were heavy screens over the top to reduce sparks from drifting and setting everything on fire. It was part of the only industry for miles around in farming country.

When a pine tree was cut up for lumber, it had to be prepared and after it was cut to the length, the log was trimmed on all four sides by various methods to square it up using large saw blades depending on the size and sophistication of the mill. This process created “slabs” of wood from the four sides of the tree with the bark still on them.

To the mill, this was waste but to many people it was cheap lumber to build a pig pen, a cow pen, or to put a roof on the chicken coop. To others It was “stove wood”! Almost!

My grandfather would take the truck and go get a load of the slabs which the mill sold for a cheap price to get rid them. You had to load them yourself.

Once home, there was a big wood saw, often referred to as a buzz saw, with a 30” blade that was hooked up to the PTO on the tractor with a belt and when running the whine of the saw could be heard for a long distance and the danger of losing a hand, a finger, or an arm was very high! I think they should have been named “whine” saws not buzz saws. They still make these saws in a slightly safer version, today.

The slabs were fed into the saw and cut into pieces about twelve inches long to fit into the wood stove after being split a couple of times with an ax. Then you had stove wood. A big pile in the yard and a chop block and an ax stood ready and there was a stove wood box on the back porch and a small box by the stove so grandmamma did not have to go out in the cold to get more as needed. The kids had to keep the stove wood box full. There was kindling too.

Was it worth all that work? There was no choice if you wanted a hot meal, a warm kitchen and the best biscuits in the world. Even after my grandmother got an electric range she still did her serious cooking on the wood stove.

But I believe wood stoves got too much credit on the pies and biscuits. I believe it had more to do with that wooden bowl/tray/platter thing my grandmother used to make up that dough and the way she would have it up to her elbows and maybe it was that wooden spoon and the wooden rolling pin. Or, perhaps, that hog lard from the bacon grease that sat on the warmer of the stove. No wonder my cholesterol is 300!

JC©2016

Memorial Day : They Never Said A Word

They Never Said a Word

An Old Message For This Memorial Day

Tom Brokaw wrote a book about the “Greatest Generation” and it received high acclaim and attention. He talked about it on a number of shows and there was a special reverence toward those who came through the days of the depression, hard times, and World War II. Those were a special time in history. A time when about 55,000,000 were killed in one form or another. Tom Brokaw never served in the military although his father was in the Army.

These service men came home and help build America’s industry and economy. They got married, had children, built businesses, and today are slowly passing from the scene leaving their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren with little information. I have known a few of these and know of others. They all, with a few exceptions, never talked about their experiences. My father went into the military in 1944 but the war ended before he went overseas and he never saw combat. He was in France and Germany during his stay.

My father was passed over by the draft board for a time because his twin brother was already in and my father had a dependent child. Fortunately, they both made it back safely. My Uncle James and Uncle Jimmy were in service and Uncle James was wounded in action. He told me, the only time I ever heard him mention it, that he was “lucky” because he was only wounded and not killed like a lot of his comrades. He received a Purple Heart.

My Dad’s twin was in the signal corps traveling with Patton. He mentioned two things about his service to me: On one occasion they set up a radio base in an abandoned farm. The soldiers found the stash of wine and he laughed at how they had a lot of trouble with some of the guys indulging in it too much. The other situation was not a laughing matter as he was involved with the follow up on The Massacre at the Ardeatine Caves, 24 March 1944. I looked up some information on the events for him some years back that took place in Italy when the Germans killed 335 civilians and left their bodies piled in the man-made caves.

The District manager for our largest supplier for many years served in the Army as a captain. He was the only person whom I ever heard making any “bragging” type comments. When asked about his military service, he would reply that “I was hired to kill Germans and I was good at it”. But, most veterans of combat that I have known rarely spoke of it, if at all.

When Gary Francis Powers was shot down by the Russians in his U2 Spy Plane, most Americans had never heard of a U2 and certainly never seen one. When I got home from school that was all over the front page of the paper and I could not wait to show this “secret” airplane to my dad when he came home from work. When I showed him the article his reply was, “I’ve been working on the U2 project for 8 years.” He had never mentioned it before and never mentioned it again.

A young man came to Atlanta to work for our main supplier. He had just come from serving in the Marine Corps.  While serving at Guantanamo Cuba, he often served on sentry duty. One evening a man cut his way through the fence and was making his way across the field. The young Marine called his CO and reported the infiltration and asked for instructions.

“Fire a warning shot over his head and see if he stops,” was the reply. So that is what he did but the man kept coming toward the base. He reported that to his CO. “Shoot him,” was the order.

So, that is what he did. He killed a man that he had never seen before. He was still struggling with that when he started calling on me. I don’t know if he ever got over it.

The pastor at our old church flew fighter-bombers in Vietnam and flew over 300+ missions. Not the usual resume for a preacher. One of my former customers never mentioned the fact that he flew F4’s in Vietnam. I learned it from his obituary. My neighbor across the street flew cargo and refueling planes. You would never think of him as a pilot today. Another fellow that I came in contact with, who raised peaches and dabbled in politics a lot over the years, flew with the Flying Tigers. Again, I learned that from his obituary. A lumber company and building supply owner flew B17’s and crash landed after his plane was all shot up. You would never know but you might question why he walked with a limp. Most just never said a word.  Why?

I think that most did not feel that blowing people up, killing the enemy, and watching their comrades die was anything to brag about. There was a reverence toward it all and they felt that their families would be better off not knowing some of the things they had seen and done. It was something they had been called on to do, they did it, and they wrestled with their demons for the rest of their lives while trying to put it behind them. There were a lot of men who suffered “shell shock”, as it was called then, and people shook their heads at how sad it was to see them that way. Today, we call it Post Traumatic Stress and still seem to do little about it. Maybe we really don’t know how, even today. That brings me to Willie.

I first met Willie when introduced to him by my friend Bob at Bob’s office one day. I don’t really know how Bob knew Willie except that Willie sold insurance for Life of Virginia. It turned out that Willie liked to shoot doves and do some hunting in general and that led us to have some meals together, laugh at some jokes, and pop a few caps on the dove field. I did not realize that Willie was the same age as my Mother. His wife worked at Sears and was a sweet lady and we went over there for dinner and had lunch with them a few times. Willie and Bertie had three sons and one retired later as a major from the US Army.

As people go, they were the “salt of the earth” type people. They never seemed to accumulate a lot in the way of worldly possessions but they enjoyed life. Willie was not a macho type guy and would not appear to have a “mean bone in his body”, as my Grandmother would say. He was one that you could not picture with an M1 Rifle and a battle helmet on, for sure.

One day, some time back, Willie called my friend Bob and asked if he was going to be around his office for a while, he wanted to come by. When he arrived, he had something wrapped up in a cloth. He told Bob that he wanted to give it to him.

Bob unwrapped the cloth and found it to be a German Luger pistol. Not a commercial copy but a “real McCoy” German Luger from World War II. Willie said that he wanted Bob to have it because if he left it for one of his sons the others would be upset. This way, they would never know about it or where it went. Willie had brought it home from the War. Bob promised to keep it in trust for the present time.

Now, Bob had never had any real conversation with Willie about being in the War and I am not sure that he even realized that Willie had been in service. So Bob asked how he came by the Luger. Willie replied in a matter of fact way that he had taken it off of a German officer that he had killed! Willie had killed somebody!? Are you kidding? This man sold life insurance for a living, for Goodness Sakes!

It seems that Willie’s outfit captured some Germans and the officer was not searched very well. While the Americans were giving the Germans some food and hot coffee, the German officer pulled out his Luger and shot one of the Americans. Willie, in turn, shot the German and kept the Luger pistol.

So, Willie had killed a German officer. Under the circumstances, you could see how that would happen.  Bob commented to Willie that he had never thought about him actually shooting anyone and that having to take a life, even in combat, had to be tough. Willie’s reply was somewhat startling.

He, in fact, had shot many Germans. One night, he was on guard duty watching a rock wall fence downhill from where his company was dug in. There was an opening in the fence and the Germans were trying to get through to flank his camp. One after another, one of the enemy troops would come through the opening trying to reach the other side of the clearing. One after another Willie shot them. Between 20 and 25 that night alone. Shooting one German officer was not actually that big of a deal! It was all in a day’s work for Willie. The officer was not the first and would not be the last. And, no one would have ever guessed it. He had never said a word. In another occasion, he and a comrade were sent to check out a town occupied by Germans in France. Before that night was over he shot 28 Germans. He said his comrade wasn’t too good and only got about 20. They picked them off going and coming between a headquarters building and a self-styled bar.

How did these men do these tasks? How did they get to a point that they could shoot one enemy soldier after another. Were they driven by the fear that if they did not kill the other guy they would get killed? Were the driven by their concern for their buddies? Were they doing it for their Country? Did it actually get to be fun? Did they get a rush pulling the trigger?

Most of the men that Willie shot, he probably did not get “up close and personal” with. They were several yards away and you could not see the look in their eyes or hear the last breath leave them. But, the German officer was different. He was right there. Up close. And, many would say, he asked for it! He had done the unthinkable….shooting at a group who were now befriending him and treating him humanely. But Willie kept his Luger all those years. Why?

That event touched Willie in some deep human way. Probably in ways he did not acknowledge or understand. Maybe, parting with that gun was the last of the demons that Willie had lived with all those years. Now, in the waning days of his life, he may can sleep a little better! The last ghost was now gone from his closet. He never said.

Memorial Day 2019

© HJC 2017