Back in the late 1920's and
early 1930's the crowd from Reynolds and Butler got together and decided they
wanted to go Mammoth Cave in Virginia.
I don’t know why they picked that site but it was a popular
attraction. They decided to pay Mr.
Hoke’s way to provide the entertainment.
They rented an old school bus.
Thelmon Jarrell, a very honorable person, reported that the first night
they spent the night in Roswell, Georgia.
A few wanted to take a drink even though it was Prohibition. They found a source and the two who went for
it was Mr. Earl Marshall and Mr. Hoke.
They went to the man’s still and he was selling five gallons. Mr. Marshall wore a glove over his left hand
that I believe was stepped on when he was a boy. Mr.
Hoke said that a moonshiner shot it off at the last still we raided. The man tore out through the woods. They brought back the five gallons without
paying for it.
Mr. Thelmon told another
story that when they got to Petersburg, Virginia, Mr. Hoke decided he needed a
new pair of shoes. They went into a
nice, big store and a young man waited on him.
Mr. Hoke said he wanted a new pair of shoes and the man asked him what size. Mr. Hoke said “Don’t ask me my size with as
many pairs of shoes that I have bought here.”
The man determined the size and everything the salesman said Mr. Hoke
would scream familiarity with the store.
The salesman must not have been with the store very long and was sure
Mr. Hoke was a regular customer. After
picking out the shoes the salesman asked how he wanted to pay for it. Mr. Hoke replied to charge it to my account
like you always do. Yes sir was the
reply. I’m sure they had a meeting at
the back of the store to see who to the charge the shoes to.
They continued to Mammoth
Cave with a guide leading them. Mr.
Hoke started talking louder and louder.
His stories were more interesting than the guide’s and people started
following Mr. Hoke around.
I saw Mr. Hoke one Saturday
afternoon. He was auctioning off the
estate and mules of Mr. Wes who had passed away. It was a big mule estate and Mr. Wes had
been a big mule dealer. Mr. Hoke was
making a pretty good spiel like he knew all of the mules. When it got to the bidding, he would point
to the section that I was in. I don’t
think anybody around where I was sitting was bidding – I think he was getting a
man to bid against himself.
Mr. Hoke could tell a story
and you could just see it. It could’ve
happened or might not have happened – you just didn’t know. He told me he went to the post office one morning
and saw Dr. Fickling, the dentist. Dr.
Fickling said that his car wouldn’t start that morning and asked about taking Mr. Hoke’s truck to push him
off. We rode down there and Dr. Fickling
had a Model A with two seats and a rumble seat. We went to push him off and I put the car onto
the highway going to Oglethorpe. I was
in the truck behind him and hadn’t pushed him far before we couldn’t keep
up. He started waving for me to quit
pushing – he was going pretty good. We
got across the creek and I couldn’t keep up with him. I lost him at the hill by the James Rick’s
place. His foot feed had gotten stuck
and I don’t know when he realized that it was the accelerator, not me, pushing
him.
I never heard about Mr. Hoke
paying but one bill and that was to the Ford Motor Company. Being a mechanic, he had to pay them. They would give you a receipt that was
exactly the same size of a check and looked like one too. A.J. Payne, the owner, would sign it. Mr. Hoke would pay his bill and once gave
that the receipt to Mr. Willis, who didn’t have much education and who ran a
fish market in Butler. Mr. Hoke said he
wanted $4.00 of fish and they were weighed.
Mr. Willis came down to him later and said “Son, you’re $4.00 short on
your education.”
Once he was dealing with
Thurman Whatley. Thurman said “Hoke,
you bragged about sneaking out the cloak room of school one day and that the
teachers never missed you.” Hoke replied
that yeah, that was him. Thurman said
the lesson that day was “Don’t sell anything to Hoke McDaniel on credit”. You missed that lesson but I didn’t.
One of the stories that has
been repeated involves the barber shop.
Before World War II the barber shop was the social scene for the
men. The only razors were straight
razors. The men would have their
shaving done at the barber shop. The
razors were four to five inches long and as straight as they could be. It would be sharpened against a belt. The barber shop in Reynolds had three
chairs. Facing the barber chairs were a
line of captain chairs with cushions.
These would always be full. Men
would come in for a shave and haircut and just sit and talk. In the back was a shoeshine – he kept a boy
there. A door went to three or four
showers that you could pay for. The
barber would furnish the washing, towel and soap. I forget the price. I used the one in Butler because it came in
handy when you didn’t have time to go home to shower. The barber shop stayed open until 12:00
midnight. I bet it was a blessing for
people that didn’t have running water.
A lot of homes didn’t have bathrooms back then.
One Saturday night at the
barber shop in Reynolds a hobo came in.
Most people my age have seen thousands of hobos. There would be more people between the
railroad cars and in the box cars than there would be riding the passenger
train. That was during the
depression. They would get off and try
to find something to eat. I remember
Mr. Flowers, whose house was close to downtown, telling me that once his mother
fed over 20 hobos.
This particular hobo came in
a 9:00 or 10:00 at night. He told Mr.
Jim, the barber, that he didn’t have a penny to his name but his hair is so
long and he feels self-conscious about it.
Would there be any way in the world that he could get a haircut? Mr. Jim said “I’ll cut it – do you have any
clean clothes?” The hobo replied that he
had just washed his other set in a stream near Columbus. The hobo pointed to his sack on a stick that
held the clothes. Mr. Jim told him to
take a bath and put on his clean clothes.
By that time he should be caught up and give him a haircut. After the man came out of the shower with
his clean clothes, Mr. Jim asked him when he last had something to eat. The hobo replied that he hadn’t had anything
today but he ate at noon the previous day at the soup line in Columbus. It wasn’t a few minutes when Harry Powell
came in. Harry ran the meat market and
café. It was one of the few places that
had both. The café was in the back. He would cut the meat up front while you
observed from the café. Mr. Jim
explained that the hobo hadn’t had anything to eat. All of the Powells have a reputation of
being big-hearted and Mr. Harry said there was no law that said he couldn’t
open back up and let him eat all he can eat.
The man went with Harry and left his belongings. When he returned he made a speech about how
this was the finest town he had ever been in.
He came in dirty, hungry and needing a haircut. These people cleaned him and fed him. He felt so bad for that he had to catch a
freight train and get all dirty again but he had to get to Macon. Mr. Hoke McDaniel immediately stated that a
man wasn’t going to ride in any freight cars as long as he was running the
passenger trains. He pulled out an
envelope and wrote “Mr. Conductor, please pass this man as far as Macon. Hoke McDaniel, V.P.”
Now Hoke McDaniel was not part
of any railroad that I know of but he was one of the best comedians that ever
lived. Had he lived in Hollywood, he
would get awards for best writer, actor and director all in one. The hobo made another speech about how he
couldn’t believe what had happened to him in a place like Reynolds. What the hobo didn’t know is that a few of
the men in the barber shop that night had never seen a man get thrown off of a
train. They decided that it would be fun
to see one tonight. The train from
Columbus to Macon didn’t come through until about 4:30 to 5:00 in the morning
which would put you in Macon at daybreak.
So they sat up with the man all night.
They met the train and the hobo got on and sat by a window so he could
wave goodbye. The train started
off. The three observers waiting for the train to
come to a stop, but it never did. They
thought that was the last of it.
Colonel Lunsford worked for
the court in Butler and was on the way to work when he saw Hoke standing by his
house outside of Reynolds with tears running down his face. Colonel Lunsford immediately stopped and
asked what was wrong. Hoke replied that
he had just lost his youngest daughter.
Colonel Lunsford hopped out of his car and took Hoke by the shoulders
and said that he was so sorry. Did she
die suddenly? Hoke replied that she
hadn’t died – she had just gotten on that old yellow bus and that when they do
that they are gone forever. He started
crying again. I guess he wasn’t always
joking.
....to be continued.
Recordings of Roy Jones. Transcribed by his daughter , Harriet Jones Geesey.
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