Misc. biographical newspaper articles, Baker County, Florida File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by La Viece Smallwood (no email address), through Carl Mobley (cmobley@magicnet.net). USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, data may be used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages cannot be reproduced in any format for profit or other presentation. This file may not be removed from this server or altered in any way for placement on another server without the consent of the State and USGenWeb Project coordinators and the contributor. *********************************************************************** La Viece Smallwood ------------------------------------------------------------ The following are some of the articles written by La Viece (Moore-Fraser) Smallwood, Author, Poet, and Genealogist. The articles were published in The Baker County Press, The Baker County Standard or The Florida Times Union Contents: * Profile - Mamie Mae Burnsed (in file 1/2) * Claude Scoles (in file 1/2) * Myrtie Rowe remembers Macclenny years ago (in file 1/2) * Dr. John Holt A man of endless talents... (in file 1/2) * Miss Ida - Legacy Of Midwifery To Gospel Tunes (in file 1/2) * Profile - Lacy Richardson - Keeping that 'ole time' tradition (in file 1/2) * Profile - Verdie and Dewey Fish - Pioneers that made do..... (in file 1/2) * The Talents of 'Abbie' Cook..... (in file 1/2) * Moniac native learned of Christmas a bit late.... (in file 1/2) * Brothers keep time at a distance (in file 1/2) * Lawton and Essie Conner (in file 1/2) * A long road of hard work - Sammy Walker (in file 1/2) * Old Macclenny was a 'moving' thing for Gilberts (in file 1/2) * Almost a century of Baker memories - Annie Mae Combs * There was no special welcome for this Baker County hero - Edgar kirkland * A lifetime of helping - Sippie Hartenstine's still going strong * John D. McCormick * John Calhoun & Bertha Mae Bennett Crawford Family * Fay & Harold Milton * Hardy & Carrie Hogan Rhoden * The ' good ol' days' bring fond memories for Elva Dinkins _____________________________________________________________________________ Almost a century of Baker memories - Annie Mae Combs The Baker County Standard, October 6, 1993 by La Viece Smallwood Standard staff writer Annie Mae (Rhoden) Combs his lived almost a century in Baker County. Her once-strong melodious voice that often rang out in harmonious gospel tunes is barely audible above a whisper. Her once active life is more tranquil now. Her bright eyes twinkle and a ready smile creases her face when, she talks about "the joy of her life," was her husband of 40 years. Fred Combs died in 1964, but Annie likes to remember things that remind her of him. Annie was one of eight children born to dark-haired, blue-eyed Easter Ann Raulerson and William (Billy) Rhoden "somewhere in Baker County," on Sept. 11, 1906. Her parents, who had married in Baker County on Feb. 17, 1895, lived most of their lives in the Cuyler section of the county. It was a loving home where Annie remembers being rocked on her daddy's lap while he told her wonderful stories, or perched at her mother's knee listening to old-fashioned Primitive Baptist gospel tunes. When she was of age, Annie walked the three miles with her brothers and sisters to the three-room Cuyler schoolhouse. They were Ulyss, Hassie, Roy, Carl, Thelma and Myrtle Lee. It was there she finished the seventh grade before marrying Fred Combs at the age of 18. The couple first met at a county-wide singing convention, an event quite popular at the turn of the century in Baker County. "I liked him right away, thought he was the cutest thing I'd ever seen," she smiled. "And he left the girl he was with to come sit with me, so I knew he liked me, too." Fred received permission from Billy Rhoden to court his pretty daughter. He was allowed to "come calling," but it was understood that "time was up" at 8 o'clock. Annie's parents, and the rest of the family, usually joined the couple on the front porch of the home while they courted. Annie helped her parents on the farm doing all the usual farm chores. There was always something to do as the family grubbed a scant living from the poor soil. There was little or no money for many of the things taken for granted today. For instance, the family used frayed oak twigs for toothbrushes while soda or salt substituted for their toothpaste. "If you had a toothache back then, you just pulled it out because there 'were no dentist available," she said with a shudder. Her brother Hassie was recruited to France during World War 1. and Annie's family worried about his safe return. They knew life was fragile. A baby brother named Clyde had died. Easter Ann made the family's clothes on a pedal machine and, said Annie, "There was no such thing as nice wool sweaters or coats to wear," adding that her mother made them warm coats from flannel material. Her grandparents, Newt and Dora Ann (Thompson) Rhoden, lived in walking distance of her home and she visited them often. And the family shared many meals together. The Rhoden family held many square dances in their home. Her father stood guard to make sure things went well because in those days many people drank moonshine. It was important to her father for families to enjoy being together without any problems. Annie loved to dance. And she admits, "Before I met, Fred I was a big flirt with the boys." She had lots of boyfriends who would visit her at home, where they listened to the radio or just talked on the front porch. When the Rhodens' neighbors had square dances in their homes, the family would hitch up the mule and wagon and attend. But the ride home was dark, with only the twinkling stars and beaming moon offering them dim light as they rumbled along the sandy country road. No one even thought of danger like being robbed or harmed in any way. In fact, there were no locks on their door at home because, she said, "There were no such things as intruders. Annie remembers seeing her first car one day when she and her family were traveling do the dusty dirt road in their mule and wagon on their way to a singing convention. The car was driven by Mr. Knabb. "He pulled up beside our ol' mule and invited my daddy and mama to take a ride with him. Some of us children got to come along too, while my oldest brother drove the mule on home. It was a great invention, that car," she said. Church was also the family's social life. in turn-of-the-century Baker County. It was at a Sunday School box supper that Annie had prepared a delicious box dinner for a lucky bidder... Fred, she hoped, But Fred lost his bid to another boy who was anxious to impress Annie. "They almost fought, but I still had to eat with the other boy,". said Annie. "However Fred came over to me later on and said, 'Let's get married.' And I said, 'Well, I'll have to think about it,' but it didn't take me long to say 'yes,'" she said. The Rev. Earl Taylor married the couple Feb. 1, 1925, on the front porch of her parents' home. Annie was 18. Fred, who was born in Baker County on Sept. 17, 1904, was 20. "My older sister had tried to tell me what to expect after I got married, but I didn't believe it," she said, shaking her head. "But I believed it later!" Life for the couple was not easy, even though they lived with Fred's parents. It was during the Great Depression. the family ate a lot of lima beans and white bacon. Fred would often go into the woods to kill birds for their supper or catch fish in the nearby river or creek. He worked at a sawmill for a while and Annie described their home as resembling a chicken house that was thrown together. She had her first child, Willie, on Nov. 25, 1925. At the sawmill, or log camp as it was often referred to, she and her little son Willie rode up and down the tracks on the log train to pass time. During that time, Fred taught Annie to drive a log truck. Sometimes, she said, they'd even go into Lake City on the log train to see a movie. When his sister-in-law, Agnes, died from complication in childbirth 11 days after her son Was born, Annie and Fred took the baby in. Fred's brother, Russell, who was the baby's father, had named his little son Fred Combs Jr. in Fred's honor. The couple called him "Bunny" and he became one of their own. Until they could get the baby's formula regulated, he was nursed by Rosa Taylor, who had a small son named Aubrey. In later years. Bunny married Rosa's niece. And two older siblings, Betty Lou, aged two, and Russell Jr., aged four, remained with their father after he married Corene Raulerson. The couple had nine children of their own. It was 15 years after the birth of her first child, Willie, that Annie gave birth to her only daughter, Mary Carolyn. Like many other men. in the county, Fred indulged in drinking, but after his marriage and birth of the children he gave it up and became a minister. Often during his sermons he would preach about his conversion. He would tell personal stories, like the time he stole a Bible from a restaurant in Lake City. After he was converted to another way of life, he returned to the restaurant to make restitution. During the early 1930s, the couple met in the homes of friends and neighbors to practice their Congregational. Methodist religion but, when the group began to grow, Fred, with the help of some other men built bush arbors throughout the area to house the growing attendance. Then in 1936 Fred and some other members of the local congregations, who were seeking a deeper spiritual experience than the Methodists at the time was offering, heard about the Congregational Holiness Church. They traveled to the church's headquarters and campgrounds in Carrolton, Ga. to attend one of the denomination's conferences and to learn more about it. They were impressed with the Holiness doctrine and movement and returned to Baker County to share their new-found knowledge with the other local church members. Many, like Fred, were looking for a doctrine that had the laying on of hands and one that believed in receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit. And too, locally there was much discontentment over the subject of music. Some members did not believe the church should have music and some, like Fred. did. Many of the Congregational Methodist members converted to the new movement and thus began the first Congregational Holiness Church movement in Florida. Fred served as State Superintendent of the Florida Church, Conference for 18 years. Today there are 16 such denominations throughout Florida, two active in Baker County, one in Sanderson, and another in Manntown south of Glen St. Mary. At one time there was a church of that order in Taylor, but it has since been abolished. In 1946, the couple bought a modest little home in Sanderson for $1,200. The family did without indoor plumbing until 1956, but Fred had installed a bathtub for the family on the back porch and they hauled water from a hand pump in the back yard to fill it when they bathed. Many couples married on the front porch of their home and until his death not one couple he married had divorced. Fred served as Baker County's road superintendent for 19 years. In those days, it was Fred and a three-man crew who tended to all of the county's roadways. Fred preached wonderful sermons at the Sanderson Congregational Holiness Church and he and Annie often sang duets together. As the children grew Annie enjoyed her role as a minister's wife and mother. She hosted many visiting revival ministers and once kept a missionary from India in their home. She was an excellent seamstress. In addition to sewing for individuals, she was contacted annually to make the graduation dresses for the student graduates in the black elementary school in Sanderson For a short time, she worked as a cook at the Sanderson school cafeteria. At the time, Mary Carolyn was four and the teachers let her sit in the first grade class with the other students while Annie worked. When she turned five, the first grade teacher, Eunice Dobson Burnett, was willing to have her stay in the class, but said , she would have to study the same as the other children. When the school term ended that year, Annie gave up her cafeteria job, but her bright little daughter passed easily into second grade and eventually graduated from Baker County High School at age 16. As the church's superintendent in Florida, Fred was often invited to participate in revivals and deliver sermons for other Congregational Holiness churches. He worked for the county from 7 a.m. until 4 p.m. Annie would have supper prepared when he arrived home and then the couple, with Mary Carolyn, would drive as far away as Palatka to preach. Most of the time it was late into the night when they would drive back home to Sanderson. With little sleep, Fred reported for work early the next day and Mary Carolyn to school. Sometimes the revivals would last as long as two weeks, but Fred would faithfully drive back and forth each day and night. There were many times when he had to pay his own travel expenses. Sometimes the church would take up a "love offering" or supplement his expenses by giving him food from members' gardens. He was dedicated to his ministry regardless of the sacrifice. Annie and Fred loved gospel music and often sang together during church services and in revivals accompanied by their daughter on the piano. Annie's favorite song is "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, I'll Be There." 19 Music in the church was so important to Fred that he started his little daughter in piano by the age of six. Mary Carolyn became the first piano student of Virginia (Crews) Combs, who's grandfather, Willie Crews Sr., pastored the church at Manntown. The piano lessons cost 25 cents. Today she is one of the most accomplished, pianist in the county. Church and family were the most important things in the couple's lives. They adhered closely to the strict church doctrine, however they allowed their children a certain amount of freedom of choice. For example, their son Bunny played, basketball, even though they didn't attend the games. Mary Carolyn was a member of the school band, but they never attended a performance. As time went on, they reluctantly purchased a television. Annie did not cut her hair or wear makeup. It was against church doctrine. Her daughter had to comply to those rules, as well. Annie's mother, who was of the Primitive Baptist faith, lived the last five years of her life with Annie and Fred and they saw that she regularly attended her church services until she became an invalid. Fred and Annie never turned down a calling, regardless, how far away it was. They enjoyed the opportunities they had to share their faith and testimonies. On one such occasion, in 1964, the couple had gone to Douglas, Ga. Annie rememberd that Fred was preaching a good sermon when suddenly he stopped speaking and went to sit down. Other ministers quickly gathered around him. In minutes an ambulance was summoned and Fred was hospitalized. It was his heart. "I was standing outside his hospital door. I knew it was bad. Then they came and told me he was gone. He was the joy of my life and, oh yes, I look forward to being with him again someday," she said. After Fred's death, Annie had little income. She was an excellent cook, and obtained employment with the Macclenny School Cafeteria where she worked for many year She underwent open heart surgery at the age of 78 in 1984. In 1985, she suffered a stroke. Her once-beautiful waist length hair that was never cut because 'I kept the old ways in our religion," is now bobbed short for easier maintenance. Her rosy complexion is almost as smooth as it was in her teens, and she tells her secret for beauty. "I've always used Jergens, Ponds or Avon Moisture Cream, she notes proudly. She respects the "old-timey ways" of her church and wears no makeup, except for Coty power. She enjoys having her children stop by for visits, and they faithfully do. Bunny, who has worked for 30 years as a correction officer in Raiford, and his wife Faye (Yarborough) have five children: Charlotte Jared, Renee', Clayton and Bruce. Willie who in Folkston, served in World War II and the Korean War. He later retired as a diesel mechanic. He has a son Freddie. Willie and his wife Alice, who died during open heart surgery, had an adopted daughter Dana,. a daughter Durenda and a son James, who are all deceased. Mary Carolyn and her husband, Watson Goodwin, operate Watson's Supermarket in Sanderson. They have a son, Ricky. All together, they have presented her with 10 grandchildren. "Life in Baker County has been good to me and if I could leave a message to my family and friends that I'll always be remembered by after I'm gone," she said, "I'd say, 'Live a good life and raise your children right. Then, when the roll is called up Yonder, we'll all be there." NOTE: cwm. Annie Mae Rhoden Combs b. 11 Sep 1906, d. 13 Feb 1994 Fred Combs b. 17 Sep 1904, d. 23 Feb 1964 _____________________________________________________________________________ There was no special welcome for this Baker County hero The Baker County Standard, December 29, 1993 by La Viece Smalllwood Standard staff writer Fifty years ago this month, when Edgar Kirkland stepped off the Greyhound bus on Main Street in Macclenny, there was no hero's welcome. Although in his frayed and shabby dufflebag, he carried many hero medals. Among the medals were the Purple Heart, Silver Star, Bronze Star, Good Conduct, World War II Infantry and, ETO medals. The Baker County farmboy had come home without fanfare and that's the way it has always been, because, until now, Ed Kirkland has never talked about what made him an unsung hero. Tbe 20-year-old Kirkland left Macclenny on Nov 22, 1942,after being inducted into Uncle Sam's Army to help win a raging war being fought on European soil. With little combat training, he left Virginia on a boat that took 26 days to reach his destination of Italy. He had lost 26 pounds from sea sickness. Kirkland was immediately tagged as a rifleman and sent to the front lines, where he found that his Baker County training as a poor backwoods sharecropper's son had prepared him for survival; moreso than many of the fallen city soldiers from across America who fought with him. Kirkland's luck ran out when his unit from the 85th Infantry Division was ambushed by Germans on a routine patrol about two years later. The Germans just run out and cut us down with bullets, then they threw hand grenades at us. When I came to that day my body was covered with blood, my head was coiled around on my stomach and I could feel the heel of a German soldier's combat boot slightly touch my body. He was straddling me with a bayonet in one hand and a hand grenade in the other," Kirkland recalled. "Then suddenly I felt him reach down and touch my body, ripping off my watch, which had been a gift from my brother-in-law. Thankfully, he walked away and left me for dead." Kirkland was thirsty but had no water. In his pocket were a few sulfur pills he had been warned not to take without water. His pain was too great, so he chewed them up anyway. Next to him, a young 17-year-old soldier began to moan. "Water, water, please give me some water," he begged. Kirkland told him there was no water. Not long after, the young soldier's voice. grew faint, then ceased. Everything was quiet, and Kirkland said he realized he was the sole. Survivor of the attack. American medics slipped in after dark to reach the carnage. Kirkland, barely alive, was loaded on a stretcher and carried halfway down the mountain. At that point, the task was turned over to German prisoners of war, who stumbled and fell on the rough terrain, rolling Kirkland off the stretcher three times. When Kirkland reached one of the MASH units, his wounds were cleansed. He had shot six times. One bullet was lodged in his lungs. A buckle from his combat boot was embedded in his ankle. Kirkland was flown to Naples where he underwent an operation for his injuries. Back in Baker County, Kirkland's mother, Dollie Kirkland Johnson, was dutifully notified by telegram of his injuries. Joe Kirkland, his father, had deserted the family before his birth, leaving Dollie to manage their 10 children alone. "I guess he had all he could take," Kirkland said. In about three years, mama remarried a man named Ealie Johnson, who had 10 children, too. Then he and Mama had three of their own, so that was 23 all together. We moved around a lot, sharecropping, and the old houses we lived in, you could throw a cat through the walls. We never did have anything but an old fireplace to keep us warm, and all us kids would gang up together to sleep at night with warm quilts that Mama made us. Kirkland said he never saw his biological father "He died when I was 17 years old. He never sent Mama one dime for us kids. I didn't, go to his funeral, " he said. Kirkland said he'd always been told that when he was born he was so tiny he had to be carried around on a pillow and his skin was so transparent you could see the intestines in his body. "Mama was so undernourished and I'm sure that's why. My daddy had left her with 10 kids and nothing else," he said. We were both lucky to survive. "I only went to the 6th grade in school, then I had to quit and help Mama sharecrop." We mostly raised what we ate. Us kids would go out and pick a bushel of peas in the field and Mama would cook 'em in a big ol' pot and we'd have grits and cornbread and some kind of hog meat. "We drank cow's milk when we had it. Back then, there was no fence law and the piney woods cows would roam up to the house to sleep in the road at night. Us boys would go out there to catch 'em and hold 'em until one of the other kids could milk 'em. Sometimes we'd get 'em up side the fence and stick one of his old horns through the fence and we'd hold the other horn and then milk 'em while she'd kick. We'd take a pot and sit it down under her. Her little udders were so little we'd have to milk with our fingers like this," he said. pressing two fingers together with his large rough hands. "Us boys stayed in the river fishing when we weren't working in the fields. That was food on our table. Sometimes, we'd go at night, and even if we got home at midnight, Mama would got up and fry 'em so we could all eat. We knew where every log was in that river," he said. "We learned early on how to survive. "Mama's livelihood depended on us children because my stepfather, who. really was very good to us, had a stroke when I was about seven, and never could do anything else again." That early survival helped him endure the long patrols and meager conditions through Italy, outsmarting the enemy, surviving three major battles and numerous attacks. Kirkland found out he was as strong as the strongest. Today he realizes that even more. Some of them soldiers would just cling to us, crying and hollering for their mama," he. said. "We'd stay out for weeks in the cold with only a rock for our heads, and even when they'd pull us back for a couple of weeks for R&R it was hard on most of 'em trying to sleep and rest in the cold and damp army tents. Some of 'em just wasn't cut out for it like I was. I walked all the way through Rome ruinning the enemy to the other side and I walked all over the little Alps." he said. "My job was to hunt Germans. We'd march continually, camping at night, sometimes we could even hear them talking, we were so close. When we'd come up on 'em, or them on us, we'd have it out right there. Most of the time we'd beat 'em," he said. "There were many times when I'd be on the front lines for two weeks at a time that I wouldn t even pull my shoes off or change my clothing. The Army would try and send someone up every night with three little cans of rations each. Then they would fill our water canteens. Sometimes they didn't come so we'd do without. We never had enough food and water but we always had plenty of bullets. "When we'd kill the Germans, we used a little shovel to dig a shallow hole to put him in and cover him up, all except for his feet. We'd leave them sticking up." Kirkland said there were no injured Germans to care for. We wouldn't injure 'em. He'd be dead when we left him," he said emphatically. Kirkland said if his patrol came upon a dead German soldier they never took anything from the body or touched him in any way." "We learned never to take anything off of 'em, because if you did the Germans might have a booby trap on him, like a hand grenade, and, when you turned the body over the pin would pull out and blow you up," he remembered. "Americans put booby traps on our soldiers too, and if the Germans came to rob him they'd get blown up." Then came the day in December 1945 when he had accumulated enough points to come home. Was he I prepared? Had he received psychotherapy to deal with the trauma of frontline wari and the serious injuries he'd received? "No," he'said. "There were too many of us wounded. You just toughed it out or died." The Greyhound bus doors swung open, let him off, and hissed closed. He looked around. Not too much had changed. Hopefully, he would find his mama at home. No one had notified her of his home-coming. There were few phones back then and his mama wasn't one of the lucky ones who had one. An old friend, Leonard Mikell, came by in his car and offered him a ride home. He was glad. He was anxious. "I got out of Leonard's' car and saw Mama sitting at her sewing machine," he said. "She was... his voice broke as tears welled up in his piercing blue eye and fell gently down his rugged checks... "she was, well, she was real glad to see me. "She and my sister Rosie began spreading the word to the family that I'd come home. We gathered together and sat up all night talking. They were all real happy to see me." No one mentioned the war, or his injuries that night or ever. Maybe they were waiting on him, and maybe he was waiting on them. He doesn't know. So he pushed it to the back of his mind where it has been hidden until now. "The government gives me a small pension and all of my medicines," the veteran said. "I've had open heart surgery twice. They give me glasses but not dental. "I've been trying to get some more out of 'em for about a year now, but they won't do anything about it. They can carry it off and give it to these other countries you see, but they won't give it to us." He recently framed his medals. He hopes his two children, Penny and Jeanine, who were biological sisters that he and first wife Camilla adopted, will want them someday, or perhaps his grandchildren. Today Kirkland lives with his second wife, Nona Holloway, on the banks of the St. Johns River, next door to his son and daughter-in-law, Rex and Flo Holloway. Flo is the daughter of Harold and Fay Milton of Macclenny. "I fish when I want to, and keep the grass mowed," he said. "It's real peaceful there. I don't think about the war. I don't even watch war movies on TV. It upsets me when I hear the guns. "Where I live I can only hear the birds chirping and sounds of the woods." Kirkland treasures the memories of his family. He considers his heritage one of great wealth. His mother died in 1966. He misses Her. She may never have known about his war experiences, or his many hero medals, but that's OK. One thing he knows for certain and it matters the most. It was the endurance through his earlier days with a strong family background of love and survival together that made him a hero. He saw that in his family's face when he came marching home, alone, that day. And that was the best, most lasting, and most necessary hero's welcome of all. _____________________________________________________________________________ A lifetime of helping Sippie Hartenstine's still going strong The Baker County Standard, November 3, 1993 By La Viece Smallwood Standard staff writer It has been as American as apple pie, the life of Sippie Canady Harris Hartenstine. Like the ornate plants and colorful flowers she grows all around her modest frame home on north College Street, she has lived an embellished life. Always neat and orderly, always making things beautiful, she is as remarkable as the era of time she has thus far lived through. Like her many plants, her life has been varied,. but with lots of tender loving care, she, like them, has blossomed. Born in Charlton County, Ga., 83 years ago, Sippie was the last of eight children born to Aaron Canaday, it prosperous cattleman and farmer and his wife Alice Crawford Canaday. Her mother died in childbirth when She was two. The oldest of her sisters, Sarah, who later married Benjamin Foy Fish, became her mentor until her father remarried. And, though the marriage to Rosa Mae Rhoden dissolved after a few years, she acquired A brother, Otis, from the union that she adores. "When I was a little girl, my father would catch a train in Moniac about twice a year and go into Jacksonville to buy staples in large quantities, such as a barrel of flour and large sacks of rice and sugar," she said. "He'd buy large bags of green coffee and then we'd roast it and grind it with an old-fashioned hand grinder." Sippie said she and brother Lennie would usually get to go with him. We'd buy our supplies and arrange to have them shipped to us. Then Daddy would take me and Lonnie across the St. Johns River on the ferry boat to the south bank where there was a zoo. In those days, there wasn't a bridge across the river like today," she said. As she grew up in those lean Depression years, she. became indispensable to the community and her name became synonymous with charitable work. it was a time when neighbors helped neighbors and she assisted everyone possible. She taught others how to sew and cook and when a neighbor died, she helped to make the casket linings for the homemade cypress caskets.. At the time there, was no local funeral home available to residents. The chore would usually take all night. Many times she helped bathe the corpse and lay the body on a cooling board, covering it with a sheet. Two pennies were placed on the eyes to close them. Then she helped dress and ready the corpse for burial. In those days, all the women wore their hair long and would usually style it in a large ball on the back of their heads," she said. "That's the way they were laid to rest in those days." Sippie helped widowed neighbors care for their young children, cutting their hair, sewing their clothes, teaching them responsibilities around the home and how to prepare for life in many ways, never wavering in her generosity. As she grew older, her thirst for knowledge was strong and she'attended South Georgia Junior State College in Douglas to pursue a teaching career. After she passed the test and acquired a teaching certificate, she joined other area natives like the late B. R. Burnsed and his wife Myrtle, the Rev. George Chism, former Baker County Sheriff Paul Thrift and Rubye Crews teaching school in the county. While still in the grip of the great Depression, Sippie married county native Vandie Harris at the home of the Rev. Rhoden in Macclenny. The year was 1929. The couple moved in with her mother-in-law, Emma Harris, who was widowed. They also shared the house with Vandie's brother, Isaiah, and his wife Bertha Mae. The day her son Van was born, the family gathered as was customary. It was cold, and they pushed her bed next to the fireplace for warmth. The county's physician, Dr. Brinson, delivered her son. In about a year the little family found a place of their own near Taylor. Another son, Dwight, was born delivered by a neighbor midwife, Phanie Harvey. Sippie settled into housekeeping, Vandie farmed, and . she became the first president of Taylor PTA. She sewed all the family's clothes on a pedal machine and used cloth diapers for her babies, washing them without modern equipment such as running water or electricity. Then things changed for the family in 1941. Vandie took a job with United Life Insurance Co. and the couple purchased the little white frame house at 64 College St., where she has lived for 52 years. "When my father died I used my inheritance to attend school, something I had always wanted to do," she said. After she graduated six months later, she took a job with Mrs. Della Dykes at Dykes' Beauty Shop. Later she opened her own shop on the south side of her home which became "Sipipie's Beauty Centre." From her work station, she has been able to watch the bustling activity on Main Street as well as the neighbor children grow up and away for more than five decades. When the Harris family moved onto the block, they were surrounded by. neighbors with small children who played cowboys and Indians together, as well as marble's on the then unpaved sandy road. Some grew up, like her son Van, to play on Macclenny's first football team. Dwight played both football and basketball. The Telephone company was directly across the street and the operator kept everyone abreast of anything eventful going on. The neighborhood was always full of activity. We only had to walk straight down the block to the Morris House to eat, and we did regularly because I couldn't cook as cheap as we could eat out," she said. "And, too, I was busy with my flourishing business from sun-up to sundown." The two-story landmark Morris House was a gathering place for almost everyone in Macclenny, especially those who worked. It was operated from 1940 to 1957 by Georgia natives P.L. and Mary Jane Morris, who moved into the county in 1929. Their boarding and dining house was renowned and patronize by governors and U.S. senators. Because Mrs. Morris felt it was more economical, the food was always cooked on a wood stove. Sippie, Vandie and the boys, joined other town people, estimated at one time by the Morris couple to be 150 a day. They sat at the long banquet table while they were served bowl after bowl of hot, delicious, home-cooked food that was available to customers three times a day, seven days a week. "When they first started serving dinners in 1940, they charged 35 cents for weekday meals and 50 cents on Sunday. During the war, prices were frozen at 50 and 75 cents," she said. "When the Morris family closed the famed dining room in 1957, dinners were $1.29 including tax, and 50 cents for small children." Sippie said the eatery was closed in 1957 because the couple's earnings exceeded the maximum amount permitted while collecting benefits from social security retirement. That, she said, ended one of the last of its kind that faded from the American scene. The family also enjoyed Baker County's other landmark eatery, the famous Hotel Annie which was a block in the other direction, near the present-day Chamber of Commerce on Main Street. "People from Jacksonville and other surrounding areas would drive out to eat, especially on Sundays," she said. "And they were famous for their delicious fried chicken. "It was a great time to be raising children," she said. "We didn't worry about them so much in those days." Former neighbor Dickie Davis remembers when he and the other neighbor children would hide behind the trees with sling shots, particularly when Martin Barber came to town on Saturday. "He always came in his horse and wagon for grocery shopping at Ira Walker's store, located where the present-day Senior Citizen Center is, Davis explained. "We'd hit the old horse and cause him to rear up, said Davis, who also remembers the area children gathering at the local bowling alley directly across from the, downtown Chevron station. "It was run by Billy Walker's daddy," he said. "It was the first bowling alley I'd ever seen and we could bowl for 10 cents. All of us had a had a good time hanging out there." Davis said many good times were had on the block and remembers Sippie's family with fond memories. He remains close to her children and others who lived on the block as well. "Back then we were really like a big family," he said. At the time Sippie was raising her sons, the county had a large community center where the children gathered to play basketball and hold community events. "I traveled all over when my boys played ball," said Sippie. "There were four of us mothers who never missed a game and we all rode together for years." Her friends, all gone now, were Carrie Davis (mother of Dickie), Anna Newmans (mother of our former sheriff Joe), Mable Chessman (mother of LuClare and Dewitt) and Beatrice Piatt (mother of Alvin). In 1958, after 29, years together, Vandie died. Sippie kept working in her beauty shop with regular customers she had coffered for two decades. Then she met county native Earl Walker in 1960, remarried and continued to live in the same location. In 1966 Earl died. In 1969 she married retired Lt. Col. Ralph Hartenstine and until his death last year the two spent 23 happy years together. The house holds many memories," she said. That's why I'd never want to move away." Her son Van is a retired engineer who lives with his wife Sharon in Atlantic Beach. Dwight is pharmacist with large firm in Orlando where he and his wife Sara live. She enjoys tending. Her yard and still busies herself in the beauty shop with faithful customers, one who is 97 and another 100. Her prices once 50 for a shampoo and $2.50 for a perm, have kept up with inflation, of course. Gone are the days of the antiquated heated-clamp perming machine that was easy to burn her customer's hair. Gone are the neighbors, except for Marjorie Wells, and the hustling, bustling days of the active neighborhood families. Gone are the Morris House and Hotel Annie, the bowling alley, movie theater and community center. Gone are her three husbands, and most of her friends. But still around are memories an still around is the enormous desire she has to be of service. Last year, the local Sertoma Club bestowed on her its most coveted tribute, the annual "Service to Mankind" award. If she is not in her yard, she can be found mingling and reminiscing with the few old friends left around who remember the good old days. She is active in the Woman's Club and cherishes her relationships with many friends she has made throughout her long life in the county. Often her brother Otis drops by laden with fresh vegetables from his garden, and she cooks them up for her friends. She not only tends her flowers and shrubs, but she is still assisting anyone in need. So, though the world around her may have changed, and in some instances even disappeared, Sippie Hartenstine still rates the same. She is just as down-home as apple pie has always been. _____________________________________________________________________________ What was it like around late John D. McCormick's home about seven decades ago in Baker County? THE BAKER COUNTY STANDARD July 22, 1993 By La Viece Smallwood Standard staff writer Well, two of his surviving daughters say it went something like this: "John, my kids and your kids are fighting our kids." That's because John brought seven children to his November 26. 1923 marriage with Lillie Deliah (Leigh) who brought seven Children of her own. Together they had four children, and that made a total of 18 children beneath the McCormick roof. And that's another story. The two daughters say they could lie in bed and look up through their roof at the stars, or look down through the floor and count chickens! Sound extraordinary? Well it was. Though times were hard, and it was in the biggest drought of the Depression, 'John D. McCormick never let his family go without food, clothes or a roof over their heads. The McCormick family was taught Christian principles, spiced with laughter and music. And today, his two youngest daughters like to remember the past with great fondness. Humble may have been their circumstances, but Lorayne McCormick Rhoden and Lillian McCormick Dubose roar with spirited laughter at their memories of home. The wind blew through the cracks of our home. The children this day and time would freeze slam to death in it," said Lillian. It was during the deflation years, and our farm was foreclosed on." Said Lorayne. "Daddy never did own any more property and we moved around and farmed, but daddy always took good care of us." "Yeah he always provided," said Lillian. "He'd find work as a carpenter in the winter or he'd help make syrup. He has cooked syrup all over this county." "And he could build a fireplace chimney that would blow all the smoke out and throw the best beat around in the home of anyone in the county. He's worked all over the county building chimneys for people," said Lorayne. "And he built many homes here in the county," remembered Lillian. Today, they live next door to one another, each in a house he built. Lorayne agreed. "I would sit down and work with him after I got in schoold and learned fractions, and he'd have me figure out the footage he'd want in timber to build a house. Then I'd write it up so he could go to the mill and get the order filled," she said. "He always managed to figure it somehow before I got old enough. I don't know how though, because he only had a third-grade education, but he did. After I had it figured, I'd always have to add a quarter inch to it to it to make sure he had enough lumber. The two women reflect mostly about their lives when they lived in the Manning section of the county, renting the same farm their father lost to the mortgage holder during the Depression. As the older children moved away, the work fell on the two youngest girls. Their mother was ill and died while they were in their beginning teens. They remember her beautiful brown hair was down to the (??) She never cut her hair except for a few inches to keep it from dragging on the floor," said Lillian. I did all the house work even when mama was with us because she was not always well" smiled Lorayne." I learned to cook at an early age. I had to get up at 4 a.m. to cook breakfast and clean up the house, make the beds and finish my homework before catching the bus at 7 a.m. to go to school." And where was Lillian while you were doing all the housework? "I was milking the cows, feeding the horses and mules the chickens and the pigs," she said, roaring with laughter. "I didn't like the inside work, I preferred working in the fields and tending the animals. Anything that had to do with the outside work." "I'd go to school during the week, and have to wash and iron on Saturday to get our school clothes and the men's work clothes clean on Saturday," said Lorayne. "Sometimes I helped by pumping the water," said Lillian. But usually they agreed she was needed in the fields hoeing cotton or corn. "I had use three No. 3 wash. pots filled with water, and lye soap that Mama made, to wash our clothes," said Lorayne." We used those ol' flat irons that had to be heated on the wood cook stove or in the fireplace to iron with," she explained. After the clothes were washed we'd take our bath out in the yard in those tubs of soapy water," said Lillian. "We only bathed once a week, otherwise you just sponged off every day. We'd always arrange for our tub to be put back behind the shed or house to bathe, and the boys were very respectful. Daddy saw to that." "When it was cold weather we moved the tubs inside to the living room or into the kitchen and we'd go in one at a time to bathe, all lusiong the same bath water," said Lorayne. "We didn't think a thing about it, that's just the way it was back then," said Lillian. During the depression, the two women remember that they seldom had eggs for breakfast. "We used them to trade for sugar, coffee, flour and such," they said. "We'd eat our own grits and bacon and have gravy and our own butter from the farm, but we'd trade our eggs." They remember their first radio experience. "We'd walk three miles to Jim Starling's house to listen to the Grand Old Opry on a battery-powered radio. My daddy loved to hear Uncle Dave Macon sing," said Lorayne. "We all thought that invention was wonderfull." "We had a graph-a-phone," said Lillian, "and when the spring would get broke we'd turn that thing with our fingers to hear them old 78s." It was a good life, they say. They seldom were punished, but when they were it was with a leather strap. "We didn't get it often because we were too scared to disobey," Lillian said. Lorayne quit school in the ninth grade to marry 26-year old Ollie Johns from Lake Butler. Together they ran three service stations, one in Hilliard, another in Lake Butler and one in Macclenny. Ollie also drove a taxi once in Macclenny for U.C. Herndon. "It didn't stay in business long," . said Lorayne. The couple had five children: Porter who lives in Waycross, Ga; John lives in Tampa, Mamie, (Mrs. Martin Cole) lives in Macclenny, Butch lives in Glen and Joan lives in Macclenny with her mother. (When Ollie died, she married Obie Farris, then Rachie Rhoden, who died in 1990). Lillian takes understandably great pride that out of all her parents' children, she was the only one to graduate from high school. She married Charles DuBose, a military man, after graduation and the couple had four children, Lillie Mae (Mrs. Tommy Christian) who lives in Arizona, Grace; (Mrs. Fred Paul Conner of Glen), Martha, Mrs. Sorin Margean who lives next door and J.L. who lives in Lake City. Charles, who was a machinist at the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, died in 1979. They have seven grand children. Lorayne says her greatest treasured memory is the time she spent with her parents. "They taught me the Christian way, the right and wrong of life, it was just everyday talk in our family," Lorayne said. Daddy would read the Bible along with me when I got old enough to read it. He'd try to explain it to me and of course I didn't always understand it, but it became a part of my life." She belongs to the Faith Baptist Church in Macclenny. Lillian agrees that their lives are a wonderful time to reflect upon. I think the kids this day and time have it too easy," Lillian said. "I really do. They have TVs, VCRs and radios. If they aren't listening to one of them in the house, they got 'em. hung to their ears outside. They've got telephones, and strictly have it too easy and they don't care if anything else, is done, or not, except they get to do what they want to do. They got cars, go where they want, have money to spend. They aren't developing the character and appreciation of thing's like we did." Lorayne agreed. "They're only interested in their self." "I know they've got a hard life before 'em if they continue like they're going now because life hasn't changed, the people have. Life's problems are the same and one way or the other they're going to have to face life's problems and deal with them," Lorayne said. "Today, parents don't have much control over discipline because if you do, the HRS will get you," said Lillian. The two widowed sisters love visiting each other and talking about the "good ol' days," and they each put their early training to use. Lillian, an excellent seamstress, loves sewing and is grateful to her mother, who taught her at age 11. I use to ride over to Hilliard, to the chicken farms, and buy the prettiest feed sacks to make my daughter's dresses. Everyone thought they were beautiful. I just love to sew," she said. Lorayne enjoys crocheting and lap weaving. She makes her friends gifts of her lovely hand work, and makes things especially for her eight grandchildren. Most of the family has died now, only a few still live, but they visit together and stay close. William Carl and Ola Belle (Burnett), the only two children from John's second marriage to Clarinda (Clark), live in Jacksonville. One halfbrother, Ellis McCormick, died recently. He was one of five children from John's first marriage to Lou Vernie Rawl. He became one of the county's first circuit ministers who had a 74-year career in ministry. "Daddy was real proud of him," said Lorayne. "He started preaching when he was about 15 years old, standing up in the cotton field. Instead picking cotton he was preaching to the kids and the other workers in the field. Daddy used to tell Ellis he was preaching more hard shell than he was Southern Baptist doctrine, so that is why Ellis went over to the hard shell Baptist.".(His parents Were Southern Baptist). Other children of this marriage were Mary (Mrs. Ernie Johns), Oscar, Bessie Hilliard Steele and Vernie. The sisters do not think they'll run out of things to talk about or to tell their grandchildren. Their laughter and sunny dispositions are on-going, and contagious.....that is if they can just get this younger generation to sit down long enough to listen. _____________________________________________________________________________ THE BAKER COUNTY STANDARD August 12, 1993 John Calhoun & Bertha Mae Bennett Crawford Family By La Viece Smallwood Standard staff writer Dealt a heaping of hardship, sisters came out on top Just before her 13th birthday, Sarah Lee Crawford was like most other girls in rural Baker County. It was the era of the Great Depression, but if her family was poor, she wasn't aware of it.. She had enough to eat, enough to wear, and parents who loved her. But things changed one damp and dreary day, just after a frightening rainstorm passed through the north Macclenny area where she lived. Sarah remembers the mammoth oak tree in the side yard steadily dripping glistening raindrops as it cast a dismal shadow outside her ailing mother's bedroom window. It was July 10, 1926. "My father was out of town working during the fruit-picking season," reminisced Sarah recently in the comfort of her cozy frame home. "Mother wasn't feeling well and the other children and I were sitting with her when three of her friends unexpectedly arrived. They were Vallie Burnsed and her mother, Mrs. Hogan, and Lula Yarborough. They had no more than said hello to her, when she began to make a funny noise and I began to tap her on the face. But she died instantly. There were six of us children home alone with mother that day.. I was the oldest. We had no phone, no close neighbors, no car. By chance, those three women stopped by, just as if the Lord had sent them to be with us that moment. I'll always believe he did." The six children were Sarah, Lee, Mamie Frankie, Dan Edison, Bernice Mae, Geneva and the baby Virgil Robert. Their parents, Bertha Mae (Bennett) and John Calhoun Crawford were poor tenant farmers, but good and caring parents. The home, instantly shattered with tragedy would leave a lasting impression on each of the children's lives. "People don't realize how wonderful it is to have a mother," said, Mamie (Combs) in a recent interview as she and her older sister talked about their Baker County heritage. "We never had our mother to go home to and we missed that very much. Their mother was the daughter of Hiram and Safronie (Rewis) Bennett. "We cooked on an old wood-burning stove, cleaned house, washed the family's clothes in a big old-timey iron wash pot out in the yard. Then we had to press them with those old heavy irons we heated on the Wood-stove or fireplace. We mopped with an old corn shuck mop, and tended the garden -- whatever needed to be done, we did it," said Sarah. "Daddy got lonesome for mama and about every few months he'd get to drinking, but he was never mean to us, he was always good, said Mamie. "I really look back now and realize even more all he did for us and what he must have gone through to keep us all together." John Crawford moved his family around a lot after the death of his young wife. He often took seasonal jobs picking fruit. Mamie remembers one dark night when they were driving a small two-seat Model T Ford down a crude rocky road on their way to pick fruit in Plant City. "Our car was packed with all our things, plus six children. You can just imagine the scene," Mamie said. "I was about 14 years old and sitting in the open door of the car when I started to stand up and lost my grip and fell out. At first they didn't even miss me. The last thing I remember was standing up. I was knocked unconscious. They took me to a doctor, and after I woke up I was OK. That was not the only close call the children had. Once when the family was. grinding cane, Daniel was feeding the mill while the horse was making its circular sweep. Suddenly, his head was pushed between the mill and the long wooden pole. Sarah screamed for the horse to stop and it did -- just in time. "I'm sure it would have pulled his head off if Sarah hadn't got the horse stopped," said Mamie. The incident resulted in Daniel having a large, permanent scar on his face. The children never had a Christmas tree and to them the holiday was "just another day." "Once when I was real small, before my mother died, I got a small doll and I. was so proud of it," remembered Sarah. I tied a string around it and hung it on the living room wall so nothing would happen to it. Their grandfather, John Calhoun Sr., and his grandfather, Giddeon Crawford, were Primitive Baptist ministers. John Calhoun Sr. died in l912, the same year Sarah was born, and though she never knew him, personally, she displays a large picture of him in her home. Sarah left home when she was about 16 years, old to live in Jacksonville with cousins, Lawton and Sallie Crawford, and to work at the King Edward Cigar Factory. She visited home often and on one such visit she attended a party in a neighbor's home, While playing a game she found herself standing directly across from another player named Lautice Robert Dugger. The two instantly liked each other. After a brief courtship, they married in September 1930 at the home of Judge Beard in Baldwin. Lautice was a young, popular barber in Macclenny making a scant living giving 25-cent haircuts and 15-cent shaves. The young couple 1ived in several locations, including an apartment over the old Macclenny post office, before hiring local contractors Lacy and Jesse Mobley in 1935 to build them a home on, S.R. 228 north. They never moved again. Their first daughter, Bobbie Sue, was born in the front bedroom, deliverd by Dr. Edward Crockett on Jan 30, 1936. Another daughter, Martha, came along 11 years later. It was important to their father that both of his daughters play musical instruments. They each became accomplished musicians on the piano and accordian. Martha majored in music at the University of Florida. It was years before the petite young mother would have electricity or running water. She would wash up to 150 towels weekly that Lautice used at the barber shop, ironing them with a hot cast iron. She pumped water from an outdoor hand water pump, still visible in her backyard today, to do the family's laundry. The one thing the couple loved to do more than anything was to "go to frolics." "I loved it so much, and we'd go anytime there was one," Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye. "Back then we danced in people's homes like Mr. Jim Sands. And we also had street dances in Macclenny, and in the old community center west of town. Someone would come around with a loud speaker on their car announcing where it would be, and we'd always go. I just plain loved dancing and we went every chance we'd get." Then one day that changed. "I joined the Primitive Baptist Church in September 1950 she said, tears falling from her pale blue-green eyes. "It is now my life, my everything. I'll never forget the day I was standing outside in my backyard beneath that big pecan tree and that car came around announcing a big dance going on in town. I didn't have one bit, I mean not even one little bit, of desire to dance, and I never have since. "There just comes a time when you just trade one life in for another. It's just as simple as that. Mamie belongs to the same church, but she joined in 1980. Sarah and Lautice were baptized in a deep ditch filled with water from the swollen St. Marys River at Twin Bridges. The resourceful 5-foot 3-inch lady has her own vegetable garden and spends much of her time stashing away the food it produces into her freezer and canning jars. Husband Lautice, who retired from his barber shop after 40 years, died May, 23, 1980. He had suffered from Parkinson's disease for the last 13 years of his life. He was a good man and we were real happy," she said with a smile. Today, all her time is devoted to the church and her family, the two most important things in her life. Daughter Bobbie Sue, a talented floral designer, married Jimmy Rowe. Martha is a former music teacher and is married to Tim Starling, Baker County School Superintendent. Mamie married Lester Combs from Sanderson at the age of 16 and the couple have three children, Daniel, Shirley and Wayne. She and Lester ran Combs Grocery at the corner of 23A and Macclenny Avenue for 26 years. "I often think of our mother and wish she could have seen how her family turned out," Sarah" said. "I think she would be very proud of her children and their families." NOTE: cwm Lautice R. Dugger 23 May 1908 - 7 Sep 1982 Oak Grove cem. _____________________________________________________________________________ THE BAKER COUNTY STANDARD February 4, 1993 At home at Miltondale By La Viece Moore-Smallwood Standard correspondent Often times Fay Milton sits at the piano with husband Harold at her side as they sing many of their old favorite songs that remind them of days gone by. The simple lovely strains filter through the quiet and peaceful setting and drift away with the breeze. Sometimes Harold builds a cozy fire in their comfortable living room and sits nearby in his, favorite easy chair listening to the soothing crackle while reading his Bible. Towering millennial oaks spread their majestic branches graciously down the terraced terrain toward Dick White Creek that borders Miltondale, which was named for a former slave who lived there until his death. It is from this modest home that, side by side and hand in hand, the Miltons have helped to mold and build a community by serving their fellowman and painstakingly developing the lives of countless youngsters. Some say that maybe more than any other two people in Baker County, Harold and Fay Milton have influenced our society. Their steadfast generosity in sharing their God-given talents and wisdom has touched the lives of countless people. Their gift to others is a legacy and heritage that, to some, is bound to be felt eternally. Saturday, the Miltons will be honored at a program and reception, "Down Memory Lane," for their contributions to education and, activities in Baker County. The program will be Saturday at 7 p.m. in the Baker County High School Auditorium. The Miltons live in their modest home called Miltondale, surrounded by God's loveliest gifts of nature on the outside and a spirit of His peace and harmony on the inside. Placed in inconspicuous places throughout their abode are plaques and framed certificates of recognition and appreciation for their untiring, unselfish and devoted service to their country, state and community. In the winter, there's almost always a fire burning in the fireplace at Miltondale, to warm their welcome visitors. Harold Milton, now 87 began teaching school when pay was low and the hours were long. One had to love children and teaching to overcome the obstacles. Cars were almost unheard of. Most teachers walked to school on dusty, unpaved country roads, despite the rain or cold. They had to bring in wood to use in wood-burning heaters to keep their classrooms warm, and in the summer, they tolerated the heat, fought mosquitoes and other insects that would come in through windows and doors of the non-insulated, clap-board make-shift rural school houses. Harold began his teaching career in Olustee. He was a bright and dedicated 17-year-old with a ninth grade education. He joined a staff of two teachers, and the three educators used the old Rose primers and Wheeler's Readers to teach the 60 plus students in first through eighth grades. School ran for seven months of the year to accommodate the farmers' planting and harvesting season because most students were needed on their parent's farm to help out. Many children arrived at school, rain or shine., in the back of an old horse-drawn wagon, sitting on the side benches and floor boards. Others walked, toting their meager lunch of grits, sweet potatoes, bacon and biscuits in small tin pails. Harold boarded during the week in Olustee. On Fridays he traveled by train and went home to his parents for the weekend. They lived north of Macclenny on the land where he was born in 1905. Within a year, Harold was made principal of the Olustee school. He stayed on the job for three years before moving to a small schoolhouse in nearby Possum Trot. Progress was being made in Baker County, and Harold could now ride the bus home on weekends on newly paved Highway 90. During the time school was not in session, Harold studied to obtain a graduate degree. When he obtained it, he moved to Yellow Water and White House before returning to Macclenny. In 1929, at the age of 24, he was elected superintendent of schools for Baker County. In 1934, along came a pretty young lady from Hawthorne seeking a first-grade teaching position. Her name was Fay Matthews. I came to Macclenny to apply for a teaching position and married the school superintendent," laughed Fay. "Harold was the youngest school superintendent ever elected in the state of Florida, and was the first person I ever voted for. I was 21. He was 24. Harold courted her and won her hand three years later. Fay was taking room and board with the Baptist minister and his wife when the minister's wife decided to play cupid. She asked Harold if he wouldn't like to meet Fay formally. But Fay said she wasn't impressed at first. "He phoned me to say he needed to see me because there was something wrong with my register. I was so frightened. Then he came over, and you know what? He didn't even ask me about my register." The couple's wedding took place in Fay's hometown. Fay was Presbyterian and Harold belonged to the Church of Christ, but they were married by a Baptist preacher in a Methodist Church in Hawthorne. This unique couple has transcended boundaries that would perplex most of us. "It was a big change in my life," mused Fay. "Life and lifestyles were different in Hawthorne, near Gainesville, where I grew up. The people there had better opportunities for education and fine arts. Macclenny had no paved streets, cows roamed all over town, there was very little opportunity for higher education and no ballet or piano. Many people were void of electricity and phones. I learned quickly to love the people. Baker County has been so good to us." The young couple lived in a downtown Macclenny apartment and attended the Baptist church where she played the piano. Their first child Billy, was born in 1936. In 1941, Harold took his beautiful bride to look at some land he had found for sale north of Macclenny. The beautiful wooded area was once a large plantation where Union troops camped before marching westward to participate in the Battle of Olustee. When Fay saw it, she thought the world had come to an end. "It was out in the middle of nowhere, near the farm where Harold was born," she said. "The only way into the land was an old pig trail. And the price tag was high. The 120 acre plot was selling for $6 an acre. I thought we'd never get it paid for." The property is rich in history and has yielded a massive collection of Civil War relics and Indian artifacts. The Miltons had a pig named Porky, who would greet them as they came out to clear land and prepared to build. They added a horse named Madam, which from time to time they would ride into town. The couple drew the house plans and constructed their home with timber from their land -- even building their first furniture. Throughout the home most of the furniture represents his handicraft or, pieces that once belonged to their parents. "My father had been a carpenter, so I learned the trade," said Harold, as he pointed proudly to their dining room. "That's our original table and china hutch. " "We still use the same bedroom. furniture Harold made when we married said Fay. The baby crib is now used for grandchildren. "Our home had no indoor plumbing, electricity, or running water for the first 10 years, " said Harold, pointing to some beautiful Aladdin lamps now converted to electricity. As the children were born we'd knock out a wall and build an additional room. Their children all grew up in Miltondale: Flo Ann, a former Gator Bowl Queen; Billy, an educator at Raines High School who has won the most spirited teacher award and most valuable teacher three times; and Alice Fay, who recently built a home on the 25-acre site next to them, which was cited as Better Homes and Garden's House of the Year. They loved swimming in the cool clear creek that flows at the foot of the slopping glade. Their mother often washed the family's clothes, pioneer style, in the creek on a big rock and then hung them to dry in front of the fireplace. The outdoor privy was always shown off with pride each time the family had visitors. "When we first moved here, our maid said she wouldn't stay out here with us at home, much less not at home, so I quit teaching school and started teaching piano," said Fay. "Many of my piano students are married with families of their own, and I now teach their children." For 23 years Fay Milton taught the first grade. Her students fondly penned the name "Miss Fay" to her and it still sticks today. Through the years as she taught more than 500 piano students, gifts of love and appreciation accumulated. As those students marry or have house warmings, she wraps the gifts up with tender loving care and returns them to her former students as tokens of her love and appreciation. Former Macclenny band director, Denny Wells, was one surprised recipient when, at his housewarming, he received a beautiful cake dish with matching smaller dishes, given to his favorite music teacher many years ago. "I can just see Denny now, coming up the walk with a box almost as big as he was," Miss Fay said. "People don't know what fun is. Harold and I spent our time doing what we loved best, serving the community and enjoying our family. That was our recreation. "When Harold was school principal, he organized the first high school band in Baker County. I was PTA president, so we raised money for their uniforms. " Both have helped organize many of Macclenny's clubs and organizations, serving as president more than once, whenever they were needed. In 1971, Miss Fay was honored as Woman of the Year by the Macclenny Woman's Club. In 1965, Harold retired from the Baker County School system after holding almost every position. Harold and Fay are dedicated members of the Church of Christ in Macclenny, and find great joy serving there and anywhere else they are still called to do a job. In their cozy homespun kitchen is an old-fashioned fireplace, "the kind our Grandmas used to cook in," explained Fay. "Harold always had the fire ready to start on winter mornings. When the grandchildren are here, they love to roast wieners and marshmallows over the fire," she said. Fay organized the Friendly Fellowship Club for senior citizens, which was the forerunner for the present-day Council on Aging, and this effort won her statewide recognition from the National Federation of Women Clubs. She organized the Junior Woman's Club and the first county choir. She helps with all community Projects when called upon, and Miltondale has been used for group Easter egg hunts, Boy and Girl Scouts, school functions, campouts, club and church socials. Elected president of the Women's Club twice, she was asked to help supply books for the county library as a project. Quickly she formed a unique idea for a celebrity book shelf. She mailed letters to as many famous named people as possible requesting they donate an autographed book to the county library. The first letter went to her brother, former Congressman DR "Billy" Matthews. The response was overwhelming," she said, opening a book compiled of 45 letters from such celebrities as Governor Reubin Askew, former Georgia Governor Lester Maddox, former governors Claude Kirk and Leroy Collins, Rep. Charles Bennett, ex-governor Spessard Holland, and State Cabinet members. The celebrity book shelf is a treasured addition to the library. Miss Fay once noticed that Several retired teachers were residents of the local nursing home, so She suggested to some of her Women Club friends that perhaps they could form a singing group and entertain all residents in the nursing home. "Down Memory Lane" was born, and today has evolved into "The Charmers," a group of women 50 to 85 years old who perform everything from "The Charleston" to "Moonlight and Roses." They still entertain at the two local nursing homes. In 1992, the group won first place in the statewide FFWC talent and music division. Both Fay and Harold are active in the Retired Teachers Association and are recognized for their creativeness in state and national projects. Through the efforts of Fay, a Retired Teacher's Day was proclaimed by Florida's governor, and she wrote the official song that has been adopted for the group. In Baker County, both Harold and Fay serve on historical preservations projects and the Community Improvements Association. Harold, a trustee of Lake City Community College, was honored when the new industrial Building was named in his honor. Beneath the shaded woodland sky, Fay and Harold hold their annual Milton and Matthews family reunions, and have seen their two beautiful daughters marry beneath the outdoor splendor. Today the retired couple enjoys the fruits of their labors -- children, grandchildren and friends who stop by to reminisce. "The house that your children grow up in is the house you always remember," said Harold. And it takes a heap of living to make a house a home,." commented Fay. If you are ever so fortunate as to visit Miltondale, you will find, that a special traditional spirit prevails and awaits the arrival of family and friends. The table will be adorned with great grandma's ancestral heirloom china. A miniature punch bowl, used by Fay as a child, will serve the younger children and traditional butter cookies and lime sherbet will be served after a luscious dinner. The fire will crackle, and cast a peaceful glow. Sweet music will fill the air as Fay's talented fingers twinkle out with precision renditions of your favorite golden oldies. Voices will sing in unison, hearts will beat in rapture, and you can be sure you will forever remember your memorable visit with the Miltons at Miltondale. _____________________________________________________________________________ THE BAKER COUNTY STANDARD January 26, 1994 Old times are full of Rhoden memories by La Viece Smallwood Standard social editor Hardy Rhoden was a determined young man when he went courting Carrie Hogan. He would walk as far as he could through the dense woods and, when he got to the big river he would take his clothes off, hold them up over his head, walk across to the Georgia Bend side, put them back on, to court Carrie. She was 13 and he was 23 when they married amid the peach blossoms in the yard of her parents Joshua and Rosetta Rhoden Hogan in 1900. The first of their 13 children was born the following year. The couple left a family legacy that vividly endures in the lives of their descendants. Celebrating and keeping family together were important to their parents, say the children of Hardy and Carrie. So they often meet and remember how life used to be for them and their parents back in the early days in Baker County. Today, the three boys and two girls surviving from Hardy and Carrie's family are Fred, Belle (Bennett-Coleman), Edwin, Joshie and Ellie (Lauramore). Gone from their family circle are Lillie (Taylor), Lossie (Johns), Vallie (Johns-Crews-Taylor), Ethel (Johns), Violet (who lived to the age of three), Rosa (Taylor), Mertie (Crews) and Paul (killed in an auto accident at the age of 19). Meeting in the home of Ellie, the group reminisced of a time gone by. One of the most vivid memories they enjoy talking about is the time when they would gather around the fireplace with their parents, and other siblings, shelling peanuts to be used in planting the next year's crop. "Peanut shells would be this high," laughed Ellie, measuring up to her waist. "Yeah, and I remember Papa sat in a chair on one side of the fireplace, spitting his tobacco, and Mama sitting on the other end spitting her Buttercup snuff," said Fred. The children said they seldom got to eat the peanuts, so a big treat was when their mother would let them roast a few after the shelling in the hot coals from the fireplace. To this day, they remember the delicious roasted taste and enticing aroma from that experience. "They'd let us youngins' eat the shriveled-up peanuts that were not good for planting," reminded Belle. They all shook their heads in agreement, remembering. Joshie said he vividly remembered a time when his mother made an exception and parched him some peanuts in the oven. He promised not to tell his father. "But," he said, "when Daddy walked in, I got excited and started shouting, 'Daddy, we didn't parch any peanuts. We didn't parch any peanuts. Daddy, they say, was very strict. He never spared the rod, to spoil a child. They dared not disobey his rules, and he was known and respected as head of the house. "But, oh, how I loved that man," said Ellie. Again, the others nodded in agreement. "Our mother was the heart of our home, and we thought she was perfect," said Belle. The others agreed. They said their parents were good Primitive Baptist. And they remember the big church meetings. The night before the big meeting, their parents, would invite the revival ministers and their wives and many others to their home for preachin' and singin'. "Back in those days, we'd read a verse of the song, and then sing another verse," said Ellie. They lived in the Cuyler section of the county in a big two-story house with a fireplace that furnished heat. They cooked, their food on a wood burning stove and used candles for light. They never felt deprived of conveniences even though the house had no bedroom closets, and they had to use nails or door knobs to hang their clothes. "I remember very well when we got our first remodeling," said Edwin. "We went from a one-holer privy (outdoor toilet) to a two-holer. Now that was something." "And remember when we got our first bath tub?" asked Belle. "Daddy set it up in a room. We didn't have any running water, but we thought it was so pretty and the sides so slippery we'd play in it." As children, they grew up happy and had lots of fun. They had the regular get-togethers with friends and neighbors. "We'd have cane grindings, candy pullings, peanut boilings and frolics," said Ellie. "And remember our first radio and how great it was to hear the Grand Ole' Opry?" asked Edwin. "It had a dry cell battery. " The family had food in abundance, everything a farm could produce. "Daddy believed in working. Working all the time, even when we'd take a lunch break after working in the fields hoeing. He'd be saying 'While you're resting ya'll go shell some mill corn,' or 'Pull up those weeds,' or 'go stack that fodder,"' said Joshie. "The only time we'd eat breakfast after daylight was on Sunday," said Joshie, "because every other morning in the week you were out in the field sitting on a plow waiting on the sun to come up. "It didn't matter how young or old you were, you worked," he said. "We'd bury our water in holes to keep it cool while we worked," said Edwin. "Mama would put her crawling babies at the end of a row to play while she worked in the fields," said Belle, "and the babies would crawl around in the dirt and be so dirty. Mama made their diapers from flour sacks." "I remember we had flour sack underwear," said Fred. "And the girls slips were made from flour sacks. I remember Pillsbury's Best stamped on the back of them." "Some of that flour sack material was so pretty and made beautiful. dresses," said Belle. When the children got sick, the parents seldom took them to a doctor. Instead, they had a shoebox full of remedies. "If you sneezed, you'd get a dose of castoroil," Joshie said. "If they put a little Coke in it, you could tolerate it better," reminded Fred. "And I remember they'd add a little turpentine to work on the kidneys and castor oil for the bowels." "What was it they called it?" someone asked. "Regulators," came the answer. "Remember the -Black Draught?" Everyone squealed. "It tasted terrible, but they believed those laxatives would cure anything," said Joshie. "Well, they do make you feel better," quipped Fred. At night the family would sit on the front porch and listen to music they played on the wind-up phonograph. There were no phones. The children said they lived a good life and were taught to be honest and respectful. "Daddy would put a hurt on you if you did anything wrong," said Joshie. "I remember going to town with Daddy once and he looked over at. me and noticed I had my lips painted red with lipstick for the first time," said Belle. "He told me my lips looked like a fox's tail and I never put lipstick on again." The family traveled to church with a horse and wagon. The children would put a blanket in the wagon and look up at the stars as they rode home. That seemed to be one of the fondest memories they shared. They remember the winter weather being so cold cows would freeze to death. "And all the heat we had back then was from the fireplace," said Edwin. Joshie said, "We didn't go swimming back in them days, we went washing." "When we didn't bathe in the wash holes in the river, we bathed in the wash water on wash days," said Edwin. Their mother washed clothes in a large iron boiler and, after she had scrubbed the clothes, she would put the children into the boiler with the wash water to bathe. As the family reminisces, they find great pleasure in remembering the days of their youth. They thought of the time when their father was first learning to drive a car. He hit a wagon, knocked down the railing fence and was hollering "Whoa, whoa, I said, damn it whoa!" He never learned to drive well, they agreed. Their mother tried to learn to drive, but never succeeded. Their father, who was the son of Hansford and Nancy Rhoden, died in a car accident on Jan. 5, 1944,. when he was age 66. Some of the family think the accident was caused when he had a heart attack or a stroke. Mother Carrie lived to an old age and died Feb. 11, 1970. Both are buried in Taylor cemetery. The couple had 51 grandchildren and more than a 100 great-grandchildren, 122 great-great-grandchildren and several great-great-great-grandchildren. Most live in Baker County. "I tell everyone we had a good life," said Fred. "And I can tell them why, because we were all taught to work." "And we were taught to treat our fellow man like we wanted to be treated," said Belle. That's the secret. We survived in the toughest of times, and we were happy. There's no poverty in this country, it's plain. laziness," said Fred. Gone are the days when they all sat around the fireplace together shelling peanuts for seeds, the hard work in the fields planting and harvesting the crops, the old-time church revivals, sitting on the front porch listing to phonograph music, swimming in the wash holes and countless other recollections. Gone from the scene but still living in their memories. It is a rich heritage money cannot buy, nor can time fade. A legacy they hope to leave to their children and children's children. _____________________________________________________________________________ THE BAKER COUNTY STANDARD April 6, 1994 The 'good ol' days' bring fond ' memories for Elva Dinkins by La Viece Smallwood Standard social editor Elva Combs Dinkins was born on the banks of the Middle Prong of the St. Marys River on May 5, 1908, in northern Baker County. She traveled to Macclenny with her parents in a horse and wagon before the streets were paved and remembers the special beauty of the towering shade trees that lined the lanes. She recalls how she romped and played in the bright sunshine as a cool breeze graced her brow. And she fondly recalls home, where, in an atmosphere of love, she was indulged with kindness and devotion by God-fearing parents. "I didn't think of it being the good times at the time," she said in the comfort of her Sixth Street home where she has lived there for the past 52 years, 34 of them as a widow. "I thought at the time we were having the worst time in the world." Her parents', James Jackson "Boss" and Martha Dowling Combs, dealt with the times in which they lived in a remarkable way, remembers their youngest daughter. They were the parents of 14 children, rearing the 12 who survived and one grandchild on their 300-acre farm. "My oldest sister, Belva Elizabeth, died in childbirth three weeks before Mama gave birth to me," Elva said." And Mama raised her baby, also named Belva Elizabeth, right along with me. We were like twins. Sometimes I think we were closer than twins." Their rambling country-home was built by Elva's grandfather, Jim Combs. Later, Elva's "Papa" added a kitchen set apart from the main house, yet connected by the large front porch that graced the front of their home. Martha had a wood-burning cook stove where she prepared her family's meals, but when company came and bigger pots were required, she made a fire in the fireplace and simmered large containers of greens, beans, peas or whatever she grew in the garden along with a huge pot of chicken pileau. "Mama went to the garden daily to get food for our table, then she'd come home prepare and cook it for us," she said. "After dinner, I remember that Daddy would always stretch out on one of the two large church-type benches on our front porch and tell us younger girls, who he always called his dolls, to fan him," she said. "And oh, how we enjoyed doing it for him." Martha raised chickens and turkeys to sell. The money afforded shoes and clothing for her children. She would load her wagon with the fowl, drive as far as Marietta, spend the night with her sister, then with either her husband or one of her sons drive the horse and wagon all the way to Jacksonville to sell her stock. "Mama would buy whole bolts of material. She could look at the picture of a dress in a catalog and make me and my sisters and Belva dresses that looked just like the pictures," remembered Elva. "Even our neighbors would ask mama to sew like that for them. "We had lots of cows, and always plenty of milk to drink," she recalled. "As we grew older, Belva and I had to help with chores. I remember sweeping our yards every Saturday with the broom brush. "And if mama washed clothes during the week, then we had, to iron them with the heavy cast irons we heated in the fireplace on Saturdays as well. If Mama didn't get to wash during the week, then we had to help with that too." When her mother washed clothes it was done in handcrafted logs called troughs. One was used for washing, one rinsing. The sugar boiler was used for boiling the dirt out of the clothes, she said. And the sugar boiler was used for Saturday night baths. "We'd build a small fire beneath it, just enough to warm the water, and on Saturdays we all got a good bath," she remembered. Her parents were Primitive Baptist and in those days attended the monthly meetings with eagerness. "Mama and Daddy would bring home up to 25 people sometimes to eat and spend the night because they'd come a long way, usually by horse, and wagon," she said. "The all-day meetings often lasted into the night. "Mama would fix beds on the floor for the children. Our house would be full of people." It was at one of those Primitive Baptist meetings that Elva met handsome Dunk Dinkins, 10 years her senior. She was sitting in the car with a good friend, Nora Mae Dowling, when he walked up. He was, she remembered, a neat dresser and very nice. They courted for two years, then on July 2, 1925, the couple married at the home of her parents, who had moved north of Glen to a much smaller farm by this time. Belonia Robert Dinkins III was nicknamed Dunk. He was working in Miami during the land boom when he married 17-year-old Elva. He was 27, had his own car, and had learned to-do a variety of things to make a good living. After two years the couple moved back home to Baker County. For awhile Dunk farmed, then dipped cattle, before moving to Macclenny in 1932 and running a filling station. Some of their young friends in the community were Myrtie and Verge Walker, Edna and Hardy Harris and Ira and Eva Walker. "There wasn't much to do during those days but go to church, and most of us, especially us ladies, were church-goers," she said. Elva was kept busy tending to the couple's four children, Verna, Lois Lorraine, Robert and Linda. They were actively involved in school and community activities. Dunk acquired the Ford Dealership which he operated for 25 years, until his death from a heart attack in 1959 at the age of 61. Elva, with an eighth grade education, was fortunate to obtain work at Northeast Florida State Hospital, where she was employed for 10 years. At the age of 61 she returned to school to acquire a GED degree, the equivalent of a high school diploma. Inspired at what she was learning, she continued her education by enrolling in Lake City Community College. "I might have finished the whole four years, but at the time I would have had to drive to Gainesville," she said, explaining that was before Jacksonville instituted a four-year college. Today, only Elva and one, sister, Lois, are the surviving siblings of Boss and Martha. Gone are Belva Elizabeth, Mattie, Ethel, Sarah, Eddie, Joel, Virgil, Ernest, Forrest and Glen. Roy died as an infant, as did another little son. Her niece, Belva Elizabeth, lives in Miami Springs. She is 85 years old, the same as Elva. They often talk on the phone for an hour, reminiscing about the good old days. "We talked just last week," said Elva. "We like to relive the memories we share, like the one we especially remember that happened on a bright sun shining morning when a fresh wind swept across our faces as we ran down the lane that ran in front of Mama and Daddy's house. "We could see Papa across the fields plowing, and Lois and Virgil pulling weeds in the corn and peanuts. "Me and Belva were little," she said, "but we decided to help, so we, climbed the ' fence and jumped over in the field where we saw these tall weeds growing right in the same rows that Virgil and Lois were weeding. Belva took one row and me another and we pulled up a third of two rows before we hollered at Papa to look at us helping to pull weeds. "We saw papa stop.... and look.... And then he started running toward us. We could see he was mad. We didn't know what for, though, so we started running. I made it over the fence before Papa caught up with us, but he caught Belva and swatted her. "I was running as fast as my long legs would take me, thinking 'I've just got to find Mama. She won't let him whip me." she recalled. "I saw Mama standing on a fence rail throwing some swill to the hogs, but Papa caught me before I reached her. He tapped me. I think it was the first time he ever had, and it hurt my feelings lots more than it hurt me. "We had pulled up his corn, thinking it was weeds," she laughed. She loves to remember those days, times when her parents were strict, but also loving and kind. 'We did what they wanted us to do, not what we wanted to do," she said. "And that was good for us, we found out later in life." What does she enjoy most? Well, of course, her children and grandchildren, although none of them live in Baker County. Her walls are filled with their pictures, though. Across the street from her home is where her heart dwells. It's the Church of God, where she has held membership for 67 years. "I joined the church when I got saved, and that's the best feeling in the world. I'll never forget the peace I felt," she said with conviction. And neither are those, feelings of yesteryear something she'll likely be able to forget, she said, as she reflects back on the family she remembers growing up with and the home they each filled with their love. NOTE cwm: B.R. "Dunk" Dinkins 1898-1959 - Woodlawn cem. Elvo O. Combs Dinkins 1908-4 Nov 1996