Memories of Roy Jones #4

Mr. Hoke McDaniel was one of the best comedians that I have ever been acquainted with.   He made the depression a little easier to live through.  He lived about a mile from Reynolds in a house painted red on good land.  He was an automobile mechanic by trade.  He looked that part.   He really didn't look like anybody except Hoke McDaniel.

 He died in the Reynolds hospital   The day before he died Dr. Sams was making the rounds.  Hoke asked him if he had brought the asbestos soup – I’m going to need it for where I’m going.   He had a bunch of children but I never heard of any trouble from them.   I suspect he was a poor provider because he was always joking.

When I was in school he would come to the stage once a year dressed in all kinds of clothes – mismatched and in black face.  He would imitate the black preachers and give a sermon.  He told of a revival he had conducted a week or two before.   As the congregation got worked up, he had gotten himself worked up.  He took off his coat and laid it on – he pulled off his tie, he pulled off his shirt and kept preaching.   He reached down and got to his underwear and then said “That’s when I come unto myself.”

This is a classic story and it sounds like him.  He sat around in the drug store where the men would visit.   It was during a gubernatorial election and Mr. Charlie Neisler, who owned the bank and automobile place, was the most influential man in the county.   He had served as a State Representative before then.  Governor Tuby Hardman came to town and Mr. Neisler was escorting him around Reynolds and stopped at the drug store.  Hoke jumped up and met him.   He was excited and told the governor that it had been a long time – he thought they wouldn’t ever run into each other again.   The Governor was a good politician and didn’t act surprised even though he had never seen Hoke before in his life.  He went along and said it had been a real long time.   Hoke asked him “What have you been doing since we were together.   The Governor replied that he had been a doctor for 30 or 40 years.   He asked Hoke “What about you?”  Hoke replied that he had straightened up too – came on home.   Hoke then asked the Governor “Wasn’t that Birmingham jail on of the deadest places you have ever been in?”  Mr. Neisler was furious and blessed out Hoke.   But that wasn’t going to stop him.    

Right across the street from the drug store was the Reynolds Banking Company.  The bank was one of the easiest businesses to get closed up during the depression.  You could go in the morning the door will be locked.   A note would say “This bank is closed under regulations of so and so.”  Everyone would read the note on the door and check the handle to the door.

Mr. Luke Mitchell lived a mile out of Reynolds in a two story house.  He had a terrible affliction.  His legs would go before his chest and head.  He tried to hide it – he could walk without a walking stick but he usually would carry one in each hand.   He walked up to the bank to read the sign.   The people from the drug store would watch everyone read the notes.  A salesman was in the drug store at that time.  Hoke told the salesman that the man reading the note was Mr. Mitchell and was one of the biggest depositors in the bank.   He’s soiling his pants right now.  The salesman watched Mr. Mitchell and said “Doggone if he didn’t -- I can’t wait until I can tell what I saw in Reynolds!”

Hoke would pick up hitchhikers and say let’s get a bite to eat.   They would eat and Hoke would tell them that he was in a bit of a hurry but he would pay as he left so that they could stay as long as they needed.  The hitchhikers would tell the cashier that their dinner had been paid for.  She would say that no, Hoke said that you were going to pay for it.

 There are hundreds of stories about Mr. Hoke and sometimes the joke was pulled on him.   Once he was underneath a car he was working on.  A salesman came in and asked for Mr. Hoke.  A man said that he’s there under the car but you better talk as loud as you can so he can hear you.   The salesman thought Mr. Hoke was hard of hearing.  He screamed at him as he rolled out from under the car.  Mr. Hoke talked loudly right back.   The conversation continued until one of them finally figured that neither one of them was deaf.

Mr. Hoke went to extremes having fun with other people.   Once he mounted lights on the back of his car.   His plan was that when he passed a car – we only had dirt roads back then – he would turn on the lights on the back of the car and the people would think they were meeting a car.  He tried it out on Blackman curve – a curvy road that used to be six miles below Reynolds.   The people back of him took off through the woods and had a wreck.   He didn’t try that trick any more.

 Harry Powell ran the meat market/cafe/hamburger stand.   He would stand next to the window on the left where he cooked the hamburgers and to the right was the meat market.   In the back were the tables where he served meals.  You didn’t order – you would be served what he had.   It was one meal for everybody and he called it a sawmill dinner.   They were good except you were served twice of what you could eat.   Mr. Hoke called it a full house. 

 They were all eating dinner when Mr. Hoke opened the screen door in the front and held up a dead dog.  He said loudly “Harry this one is bigger than yesterday – what would you give me for him?”  Hash was being served for dinner and it was said most everybody put their silverware down and marched out.

 Mr. Hoke lived near the veterinarian, Mr. Clifford Whatley.   Why Mr. Clifford would haul Mr. Hoke around with him. I don’t know why but Mr. Hoke went with him a heap of times.   I called the vet one night for a sick mule.   That’s the worst feeling in the world.  It was always costly to replace a mule when there wasn’t any money but it was especially hard in the middle of crop season.  Mr. Hoke knew I was worried to death about my mule and called me over.    I asked him if he thought my mule was going to live and be all right.   He said, “Let me put it this way – every tool that Dr. Whatley uses is made by Winchester.”   He wasn’t very soothing.

… to be continued.

Recordings of Roy Jones.  Transcribed by his daughter, Harriet Jones Geesey.