Muscogee County GaArchives Photo Place.....Steamboat Stevedores Hoists Cotton ************************************************ Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/ga/gafiles.htm ************************************************ File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Christine Thacker http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00033.html#0008100 May 5, 2007, 11:17 pm Source: Sesquicentennial Supplement III, Ledger-Enquirer Photo can be seen at: http://www.usgwarchives.net/ga/muscogee/photos/steamboa12722gph.jpg Image file size: 110.5 Kb Making the Old Summertime Good By Leonora Woodall Nilan Guest Columnist Most of the good old summertimes of the 1910s were spent at our cottage at "fashionable" 'Oak Mountain Springs, which then had a huge, rambling old hotel, a horrible mineral spring which broke you out in boils ("risings," as they were politely called by the elders, who declared each one was worth five dollars toward purifying your system) and planked-up swimming pool, complete with snakes. The summer Columbus colony stayed either at the hotel or in their own cottages, a horseshoe of them circling from the sulphur spring up the mountain. They preferred the pool there - snakes, children floating on water wings and all - to ride the 12 miles up to Warm Springs, where the, water was always too warm to enjoy. My most despicable job was having to wash the lamp chimneys, because mine was the only hand small enough to go into the shades. But of course, all was not work. The most fun was when we cut across the fields to the house of Lula Hamner, a wonderful colored person who mothered the colony. All the children would trudge across the fields, marveling at the Maypops to step on and cool their feet, and gathering the huge flakes of mica glistening like diamonds In the red clay. When we got in sight of Lula's home, we'd hear her voice boom out, "Pull up a watermelon out'n the well and bust it open. Here come the chillun!" Lula's house was a wonder, the dog-trot putting half her dwelling in Harris County and the other half in Meriwether. There was always a rack of clean gourds hanging on the back porch, just for us. We could always depend on homemade preserves and fresh bread, watermelon and peaches. The house was immaculate, all the fireplaces kept sparkling white with the white mud. At hog- killing time, Lula and her husband Will would drive their wagon into town and park in our back yard on Second Avenue. They would be ladened with gifts sausage, ham, bacon, a huge gunny sack of my favorite black walnuts, jelly and jam. They rode back equally laden. Everybody saved dressmaking scraps all year for Lula's quilts, beautiful intricate things that weighed you down. We always had 50 yards of unbleached muslin for the quilt backing for Lula, as well as sweaters and clothing for her family. And much candy and toys for their children. It was a wonderful, loving and lasting relationship. Papa was a newspaper man and a publisher, which meant we grew up on "due bills." In news circles that meant that most hotels and resorts paid their advertising bills in accommodations. You'd get a list of places wanting to advertise and pick out which appealed most and go there. We practically grew up at the old Ansley (later the Dinkler Plaza) in Atlanta.. I never remember paying a hotel bill. And we always got passes to the movies, the circus and the Fair. Most of the accommodations offered lived up to scratch, except for one hotel In the French Quarter of New Orleans that we moved into and out of on the same night. But we had variety! One summer, it was decided that we'd take a large cottage at Jacksonville Beach. What a trip! All the children and a dog were loaded into our spokewheeled Studebaker touring car and off we went. Huge picnic hampers were carried, the theory being that if we were eating, we couldn't fight. It worked as long as the chicken held out. By the time we'd gotton to the white sandy roads of the tobacco part of south Georgia, we ran into a torrential rainstorm. We’d been put through on the what-to-do-if-it-rains bit and we began the drill in good fashion. Everybody piled out of the car and took out the curtains from under the front and back seats. The curtains were stiff, leathery things, and you had to insert a long iron rod down each one poke in a hole in the door. Then they all had to be buckled into place. Each curtain had a yellow isinglass window, usually cracked. By the time we got all of them assembled, we were soaked and - of course! - it had stopped raining. So, the whole curtain operation was put in reverse, with them winding up back under the seats. I can recall that we were very well-behaved going through the Okefenokee, because we had been firmly told if we made a fuss the bears would come out of the swamp and get us. Mama was more practical than psychological. Papa, in his stiff straw hat, simply suffered through the long drive, wishing he was back home at his typewriter. All I remember about the beach was that the sulphur water there was worse than at Oak Mountain, and that the mosquitos were ferocious. The most thrilling of all our 1910s summertimes began when Papa gathered us all around the fireplace after supper and announced our summer plans. Papa must have had a very good advertising year because he said, "This summer, we're going to go all the way to Apalachicola and back on the John W. Callahan Jr.!" If papa had said we were going to the moon, our mouths and eyes couldn't have opened any wider. We stared at each other and started jumping up and down with excitement. It was incredible, a whole week, seven days on that proud river boat. Our nurse had often walked us down to the Dillingham Bridge to watch the Callahan come in. We liked her best of all the boats, and even could pick out her whistle when it joined in with the mill whistles to announce the New Year. We'd all be waked up at 11:30 p.m., equipped with pots and pans and kitchen spoons and allowed to stand on the front porch waiting for the whistles to go off. When a deep, resonant whistle joined in, we'd know it was the Callahan. At that time, we'd make an awful racket for as long as the whistles blew. All of us must have packed and unpacked our little valises 40 times between March and June. Then the day of departure finally came. It took the cook, the nurse and the yard man to get our entourage down to the river. To us, the Callahan looked bigger and more glamorous than the present "Delta Queen" that plies the mighty Mississippi. I learned in later life it - the Callahan - was See RIVER-page S-20 River Continued From Page S-19 simply a regular-sized river boat. The slippery gangplant was managed and we were really on board. All of us were behaving ourselves and, a little, scared, we stuck right close to Mama. As the boat was casting off, to our horror, we discovered that Jaybird, our little fox terrier, had sneaked aboard. Down the plank we went again and a squirming little dog was delivered to our outraged cook. The Callahan, finally, was actually gliding down the Chattahoochee, and we were hanging over the upper deck rail watching every single thing. The boat had a full load of passengers, as well as freight. A large barge was being pushed by the boat, and this was gaily decorated with bright Japanese paper lanterns. The floor of the barge had been waxed for dancing, and a neat bridge went over from boat to barge. Our cabins had doubled-deck beds, complete with mosquito netting, and a window. It seemed like a dream to look over at the trees and the river-bank going by, but what all of the children liked best, was to stand on the upper deck right over the huge paddle wheel and delight in the muddy spray misting our faces. (And ruining my pinafore at the same time.) Mama didn't even fuss, we were having so much fun. We explored every nook and cranny of the boat and I'm sure this annoyed the passengers no end. But everyone was tolerant, and perhaps thankful that there were not more than six of us. Our first meal aboard was a marvel. The large dining salon, as they called it, was very grand. The tables were spread with snowy napery, and in some unknown fashion, the silver stood up in a tripod. I tried for years afterward to arrange it like that, but mine always collapsed. The food was really good, and the cooks took pride in preparing it. At every boat landing, vendors would be there with fresh vegetables, peaches, watermelons, berries and whatever else the land offered to be loaded onto the boat. The dining area was illuminated by large, tin-shaded kerosene lamps attached to the wall, similar to the smaller ones in our cabins. Ah! When night came and all the lanterns on the barge were lighted with candles, it looked like fairyland. A group of the colored stevedores made music - but there was also a large Victrola to help out. Everyone danced, and it seemed unreal to be gliding down the river with the lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze. The scandal of the journey, according to what we overheard, was the young Columbus girl who was engaged, and spent many respectable hours sewing fancy feather stitches on her trousseau. But there was a mighty handsome and charming young purser on board, splendid in his uniform. All the old folks were aghast at her "carrying on" with the purser. Don't know how it all turned out (we were considered "too young to know”) and the ladies stopped gossiping when we got within earshot. There was no doubt that the lovely young lady was certainly the Belle of the Barge. It was very exciting when we got to Eufaula and docked at the bottom of the high bluff. The Callahan was taking on a large load of turpentine for maritime use when we reached the coast. The stevedores stood at the top of the bluff and rolled the barrels down to the water, where they were put a aboard. Then came the day when we all watched the big Flint River join the Chattahoochee. The water from the Flint was very black and it took awhile for the black water to mingle with our red. The terrain had changed and palmettos were on the banks and there were fewer pine trees. The really big thrill came when the first alligator was spotted slithering along on the muddy banks. Then the Captain broke out the rifles and passed them out to the gentlemen to shoot at the alligators. They stood by the upper deck rails and apparently had a sporting good time. It scared us children to death and we hid on the lower deck until the shooting stopped. Apalachicola was finally reached and there were such vast expanses of water we thought the Callahan had gotten out into the Gulf of Mexico by mistake. Our boat laid over a day and night there, taking on cargo for the trip back. During the day, passengers were taken for motor boat rides out in the Gulf. Our biggest regret was that we couldn't eat any of the famous oysters. It was forbidden, because it wasn't an "R" month. Yes, it was a thrilling and unforgettable experience. A week's vacation, seven days there and back, meals, nice cabins and all conveniences, all for $7.50 per head! Special Sesquicentennial Supplement III Ledger-Enquirer, Sunday, April 30, 1978, pages S-19&20 File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/ga/muscogee/photos/steamboa12722gph.txt This file has been created by a form at http://www.genrecords.org/gafiles/ File size: 11.6 Kb