Writings by Alex Murphy Cole
1913 - 1993

Alex Murphy Cole was born in Silver Creek, 8 Mar 1913 to Robert Armstrong Cole and his wife, Mary Alex Denson. He was the first of four children, three boys and a girl. The Cole family had been in the area since the early 1800s and the Densons had been in the area since just before the Civil War. Alex had written about his childhood, during the Great Depression, as well as other things that happened during his life in the years before he died. His memories live on in his writings.

One of the memories of the farm that evokes nostaligia is the windmill; the creaking of the pump and gears as the wind blew at varying speed. My brother, Edward, and I slept together in the room nearest the windmill and we went to sleep many nights to its slow, soothing sound in a gentle breeze and there was always a gentle splash as the water fell into the tank. Of course, in inclement weather the sounds became more violent and muffled as the rain and hail pounded the roof. When the wind became too strong the windmill shut off automatically to prevent damage.

There were times the windmill did not fun because of insufficient wind, especially in a hot, dry summer. During those times the tank might run dry and it was necessary to use other means to obtain water. We had a gasoline engine for backup. The windmill could be disconnected from the pump and the engine connected.

In driving over the United States I always notice a windmill. There have never been as many as it seems to me there should be considering that the energy is free. There were few in South Mississippi; in fact, I do not remember anyone else having one. In fairness, most farms had a running stream to supply water for the livestock; our farm did not. We had to depend on a well and the windmill and tank were efficient. It was an easy matter to pipe water into the house, which few others had.

In 1975 or '76 we spent overnight in a campground in Western Nebraska. The source of water was a well with a windmill very similar to one I remembered, made by AEROMOTOR of Chicago. Since no one else was there, we set our trailer within a few yards of it. The gentle breeze against the blades, turning the wheel, the up and down mothion of the pump shaft and trickling water, familiar sounds I had not heard since my youth, induced a restful sleep.

Home was a small farm near Silver Creek, Mississipi, Lawrence County, from 1924 until I left in 1936. Of course, I was away periodically but this could be called home for that period of twelve years. Although it was a place to go back to I was never eager to go back after being away. I didn't mind the work, in fact, for the most part I welcomed it because it gave me something to do. However, Dad was an authoritarian and I never felt comfortable around him; then too, the community, being strict Southern Baptist, was not much to my liking. So in 1936, I enlisted in the Army and left for good.

We three boys were growing up in a very small town with nothing to do so Dad thought we needed to farm. He had grown up as a farmer so knew something about it. In 1923 he bought this small rundown farm of 79 acres from Mrs Batson, a widow, about a mile from town. I don't know how much he paid for it. He was a mail carrier and had to go to the post office every morning so this was not inconvenient for him. We were a little too close to school to ride the bus so Dad usually took us when he went to work. We usually walked home after school.

No one had lived on the place for several years and had not been cultivated in that time, only pastured. It was all hillside and considerably eroked. It consisted of maybe fifty cultivatable acres, several acres of woods and a house and outbuildings in disrepair. There was no year-round running water, so livestock would have to be watered from a well. A pond had been made in the intermittent stream, but this dried up in the summer. There was a usable well at the house. I drew a lot of water from that well which was about sixty feet deep. This was quite a chore in the hot summer. The thirsty animals could drink faster than I could draw. However we had a trough that held quite a few gallons.

Dad and grandpa fixed the house so we could move in, which we did just before Christmas 1923. Farm equipment and animals would have to be acquired before spring. We had a milk cow and Dad bought some plows and other tools. Grandpa died in February 1924 and Dad got a team from the estate, a good mule named Charley and a horse named Bell. They both served us well for many years.

Dad did not want to contract with a tenant so he hired Leroy Hooker for wages. Leroy was a teen-age Negro no longer in school and needed work. Dad built a small house for him and Mom fed him in the kitchen. Leroy was a pretty good worker and I worked with him a lot. We became pretty good friends. I think he stayed another year and afterward he and his brothers worked for us from time to time. In later years Dad would have tenants who lived on the place and some who didn't. Various arrangements were possible. Some were satisfactory, some not.

By tody's standards our farming was primitive and we didn't deviate from the accepted practice in the area at that time. It was a cotton economy. Cotton was the cash crop. It was needed to pay taxes, mortgages and living expenses. People depended on it and in poor years they suffered. Fortunately Dad had a civil service job as a mail carrier. I can remember only about two good crop years when we made money. Usually we were lucky to break even. But with the job and the farm we all went to college, which Dad was determined that we should do.

As I said above, farming was primitive; we had not tractor and no riding plows. It was walk behind the plow in the furrow and one furrow at a time. Of couse, not much plowing was done in a day, or a week. We had no herbicides which means that much hand labor was required to keep down grass and weeds. And, since we had not insecticides, boll weevils always got a good bit of the crop; some years more than others. We grew corn for feed but pests were also a problem there. We always had a milk cow and milking was a chore twice a day. And when I think bout the way in which it was drawn and cared for I shudder. I would not drink it today. We always had a pig or two to kill in the fall for meat but usually lost some because of improper curing. Thanksgiving was always syrup making time. Dad would take some vacation then and we would harvest the sugar cane. Cutting was no fun but grinding and cooking was. I always liked to feed the cane into the grinder and sometimes take a drink of the juice. Of course cooking required wood which had to be cut and hauled well before time.

Electric power did not come to farms until the thirties. Dad had bought a used Delco plant which we sill lived in town, in fact, the first one there and it was moved to the farm before we moved. With the Delco we had lights and Mom had an electric sewing machine and electric iron. To use the iron the generator had to run. After a few years the house was remodeled and Dad bought a gasoline engine to pump water to a large storage tank. Later another well was drilled and a windmill installed. Although water was piped into the kitchen we never got indoor plumbing.

The farm was sold to some government agency in the late thirties after Mom and Dad moved to Monticello.

Charley was a mule with which we worked all the years that we farmed. He was average-sized and dark colored. He was strong and could do a lot of hard work when prodded. He was also lazy and needed constant prodding. My brothers and I followed him behind the plow many days in the hot sun, in which we would sweat profusely, including Charley. In plowing Charley knew what to do. At the end of a row he would turn properly with minimal guidance. Of course, in turning he would grab a bite of any food available. At times we had other mules but we always preferred Charley because we knew what he would and could do and how to handle him. None other worked as well. In time and when we unhitched and headed to the barn he shifted into high gear. Of course he was thirsty and hungry. First was the water trough to replace that lost in perspiration and we always gave the work animals a light feed at noon.

We had a horse named Bell which teamed with Charley when two were needed such as pulling the wagon. Bell set the pace but was not as strong and durable as Charley. Bell was also used a lot individually.

I first became familiar with Charley in the summer of 1923 when the new school was built at Silver Creek. It was built as economically as possible and there was much donated work. The ground was rough and required considerable grading. Earthmoving equipment was not available so it was done with muscle power, mules and men. I was fascinated by the work and volunteered to drive a team. I had to show that I could do it after which my contribution was readily accepted and I usually drove the team of which Charley was one. Charley belonged to Grandpa who donated his services. That summer I acquired some skill handling a team of mules.

Dad bought the farm of about 80 acres in 1923, repaired the house, which had been vacant some time, and we moved in just before Christmas. Grandpa died in February 1924 and in the estate settlement Dad got Charley and Bell. They both served us well many years. When the farm was sold in 1937 Jim George bought Charley, knowing that he was old, and got a couple of years service from him before he died.

1920 was an important year in my life becaue I got to know Grandpa Cole. His second wife died in November 1919 and he and his daughter Margaret, four and one half years old, came to live with us in Silver Creek. There were with us until he married again in December 1920.

He was short and fat and had gray hair; not much hair, but not bald either. He was easy going and had a wonderful sense of humor. He would let out a good belly laugh at anything amusing. He still had his farm about four miles away and he visited it often to oversee the tenants. I went with him quite a few times, especially in the summer and I always enjoyed it. Our mode of transportation was our feet. We would walk over in the morning and back in the afternoon. A tenant couple, Simon and Ellen Butler, always fed us dinner. They were an old negro couple that had been with Grandpa some years and I liked them very much. We youngsters called them Uncle Simon and Aunt Ellen. Uncle and Aunt were terms whites frequently used when addressing elderly Negros, though not mandatory. It was a sign of being well-liked and respected. Uncle Simon was white headed and bald and perhaps resembled the pictures of the apostles in our Sunday School books since we kids sometimes called him Simon Peter.

As I remember, Aunt Ellen always set her best table for us. We would all sit down and either Grandpa or Uncle Simon would give thanks; then, of course, the food would be offered to us first and then passed around. I'm sure we never left hungry! I related this to my Aunt Jane many years later and she questioned my memory. She stated that it would not have been done that way. We would not have all sat at the table together but that they would serve us first and after we were finished they would eat. I am sure she is right about the custom of the time but I think my memory is right in this instance. I told this to Margaret many years later and she thinks I am right because she ate with Uncle Simon and Aunt Ellen quite a few times herself. Aunt Jane, who was about Grandpa's age and married to his brother, Uncle Ike, was of course, well-versed in the customs observed between whites and Negros.

One day Grandpa brought his team and disc harrow to disc the lot adjacent to our house so it could be planted to something. Sitting on the harrow and guiding the team appeared so easy. I asked him to let me try it. He stopped, helped me on to the seat and gave me the reins. I got started but it was soon obvious that I could no control the team, so Grandpa took charge and finished the job. I am sure he knew what would happen but he was willing to let me try. I was embarrassed and also in the process I had damaged a small pecan tree that we had set out, but Grandpa was not a bit angered. I think that pecan tree was still there fifty years later, and much bigger.

I was frequently at Grandpa's place after he married and he sometimes took me fishing. These were pleasant times and when he died in 1924 it was the end of an era for me.

One morning in September 1918 I went to play with Ben but Ben was not there. Aunt Jane informed me that Ben had started to school. I was devastated. I had been playing with Ben quite a few months and we got along very well. He and his mother had come to stay with his grandparents, Aunt Jane and Uncle Ike, while his father was overseas. he was six, the age at which it was customary to start school although some started at and five and a few waited until seven. I was five and my parents had not intended to start me that year, however, since Ben was going to school, I pleaded tearfully that I go too. After several days they relented and I was never happier. I had learned to read the Kellogg's Corn Flakes box and school was a ball. I always enjoyed school even though some teachers and some courses were boring.

Mr Loper was the principal that first year and he was not back the next year. My first teach was Miss Willie Mikell, "Miss Willie" we called her. She was a local girl whom everyone knew and liked, about two or three years younger than Mom, and a very good teacher.

Even though the school was about a mile from the center of town everyone walked. Some had to walk two or three miles and one boy rode a horse. Of course, in inclement weather there were exceptions. A few people had cars. We usually walked in groups and this was a social affair. I think the town was originally in the vicinity of the school but moved to the railroad. Groups of kids ranging in age from five to twenty would trek to school in the morning carrying books, homework, lunches and a variety of other objects and return in the evening. I said evening because that was our word for anytime from noon til dark when it became night. We didn't use the word afternoon. The school had twelve grades and there were always some returning dropouts which accounted for the wide age range. Since there was no lunch room everyone had to carry his lunch from home. I don't recall there being any commercially available lunchboxes then, so there was quite a variety of containers used, paper bags, lard pails, etc. We had no playground equipment and very little supervision, so we devised our own games. Marbles was very popular and we always had a form of baseball; a ball of string for the ball and a board for the bat. Even though I was one of the youngest and one of the smallest I participated in all of them, even though I was not very good at any of them. My forte was running. No one my age could outrun me.

The building was probably built in the 1890s and had to be repaired after a storm in 1908. In the collection of photographs at home there was one of the building right after the storm showing the damage. After Mom died I gave taht one to Bettye Gayle for the county Historical Society. Mom and Dad had graduated the year before, so were not at school then. Many years later I showed it to West Haynes, wondering if he was in it. The storm struck while school was in session and West described it as very "scary", though I never heard of anyone being hurt in it. The building was in the form of a T with three rooms at the ack forming the crossbar and an auditorium forming the other part. Around the auditorium was a porch which kids played on. The entire building was on pillars three or four feet above the ground and open underneath. I know of one boy who suffered a broken arm from being pushed off the porch in a scuffle.

Each of the three rooms accommodated two classes; beginners and second grade in the middle room. The auditorium was divided with curtains to accommodate grades seven through twelve. The building was heated by pot-bellied stoves in each room. The teachers and students did the janitorial worek. There were no lights, so there were no evening functions at school. The water supply was a dug-well which was rarely used because it was believed to be polluted and probably was. Drinking water in our room was obtained from a spring branch about 200 years away which was probably polluted also but it looked good. Two boys at a time were permitted to go for water as needed. This was a chance to get out of the room and of course the boys vyed for the opportunity. With two small boys carrying a bucket of water it was necessary for one to use the laft hand which involved switching positions every so often. Bill Hartzog was left-handed so carrying water with him did not involve switching. Consequently everyone tried to get paired with Bill.

The toilets consisted of privies some yards away but the big boys used an area of nearby woods, which they considered their private domain. Toilet was the proper word; we didn't know what a bathroom was and it was not in our vocabulary. The inside of it was amply and crudely decorated with graffiti. I suppose this was the beginning of sex education. Before starting school we were instructed at home how to behave in certain situations, one of which would be the need to go to the toilet. We were to raise a hand to get the teacher's attendion and ask if we could be excused. Permission was usually granted. Naturally, abuses occurred, but not for long. The teacher was wise enough to know when the privilege was being abused.

The wooden desks were slanted toward the user and had a shelf underneath to hold books and supplies. Near the front edge was a groove to hold pen and pencil and to left of the groove was an ink well. Since all boys had pocket knives the dasks were carved with various names and initials. The seat was hinged on the front of the desk. This seat accommodated the person sitting at the next desk front of you. When things got boring one could tease the person in front of which frequently resulted in an appeal to the teacher and a reprimand. Teachers had various ways of reprimanding, some more severe than others. I got my share of reprimands and punishments.

In those days flashlights had a convex glass lens, which could be used for mischief. By focusing sunlight on a spot it would get quite warm and a highly flammable material could be ignited. Focusing on the neck of someone well ahead would producea moderate and surprised reaction. It would take a while for the victim to catch on. Occasionally someone would ignite dry leaves under the edge of the building. The fire was always extinguished before any damage was done.

Since class rarely had as many as fifteen pupils, teachers had two classes in the room. One class studied while the other recited. This was the pattern until I got to high school. One teacher taught all the subjects. She would assign a lesson in the book to be studied for the next day when we would be expected to answer questions or work problems. I had some good teachers and some poor ones. We always had a fifteen minute recess about mid-morning. That's when we ate our lunch so we could play the entire noon hour. After recess we gathered in the auditorium where we had Bible reading, prayer and singing. The popular songs that year were, "It's a long long way to Tipperary", "Over There" and "There's a long long trail awinding". Oh yes, we had to buy our own books and supplies, but some could be sold the next year as used.

I was reminiscing with Gordon Allen just a few years ago and he mentioned an incident which I remember well. He was my age but did not start until the next year. However, his older brothers brought him along one day to visit. He had long curly hair like a girl and I was teasing him about it, which provoked a scuffle. He also had long fingernails and I got scratched up. I would have to say that I was the loser because I also got a switching from Miss Willie. He said that he was expecting a switching also but was let off since he was a visitor.

In those days livestock roamed freely and there were always hogs around to pick up scraps of food. A large hog could intimidate a small boy and one day as I was about to eat my lunch a big sow took it from me. Of course I was very upset. Miss Willie was very comforting and gave me hers.

Of all the kids who went through elementary grades with me Ben Denson is the only one I am certain started that year and that was the only year he was there. And, of course, this is a boy's story. It would be interesting to have a girl's story.

I don't remember our first car. I think Dad had a car before World War I; probably a Model T Ford. Somewhere in the early twenties he had a Chevrolet. I remember one abandoned in our barnyard. The first that I have recollection of was a Model T. It was called a touring car because it had two seats. It had a canvas top which could be retracted for complete openness. Celluloid curtains were stored under the rear seat, and many times in a sudden rainstorm it was necessary to hurriedly attach them The tires were small and high pressure and flats were frequent. Necessary equipment was a jack, a pump, a patch kit and tire tools. I watched Dad fix quite a few flats and I fixed a few myself in later years. Fixing a flat was hard work and dirty. And it was especially exasperating and frustrating if I was dressed in my Sunday best and in a hurry. The process was straightforward: the wheel was jacked up and the tire tools, which were flat pieces of iron about an inch wide and a foot long, were used to remove the tire and tube from the wheel -- the wheel was not removed -- the inner tube taken out, patched, put back in and the tube and tire pried back onto the wheel. If you patched all the holes you could now pump it up and be on your way. If the damage was too great to be fixed you could drive a short distance on the flat or even on the rim.

Those early Model Ts were very basic transportation without horses; using gasoline to supply the power. Night driving was difficult because the lights were poor and varied in intensity with the speed of the motor. There being no batter they were powered by a magnet driven by the moto. The rear light was a kerosene lantern. Since there was no battery there was no electric starter. To start it: turn on the switch, adjust the spark and throttle, take it out of gear, then go to the front and operate the crank, which protrudes below the radiator, while at the same time manipulating the choke with the other hand. If you were lucky it would start immediately; if not, calling forth your best expletives may help. Kickback was always to be guarded against because the results could be unpleasant. I know of one case of a broken arm due to engine kickback. The gas tank was under the front seat and there was no gauge. The amount available was estimated by checking the depth.

I learned to drive the Model T. After starting the engine, climb in, there being no door on the driver's side. There being no seat adjustment one did the best he could. There were two levers under the steering wheel, the one on the left was the spark adjustment, the one of the right the throttle. Acceleration and deceleration was accomplished by moving this lever with the extended finger. There were three pedals on the floor, the one on the right was the brake, the middle one for reverse, the left one served three purposes, which I will describe. On the left of the driver at seat level was a lever which was a hand brake and, when on, put the gears in neutral. It was necessary to have this brake on when starting the engine. To start, the hand brake was released while at the same time depressing the left pedal part way which kept the gears in neutral. Pressing the pedal all the way forward put it in low gear thus moving forward. By advancing the throttle with the finger sufficient momentum would be attained to shift into high gear, which was accomplished by releasing the left pedal. Braking was accomplished by simultaneously depressing the left pedal to the neutral position and applying pressue on the right pedal. Reverse was done the same way except that the middle pedal was pressed.

In south Mississippi we didn't have much need for antifreeze. When the night threatened to be freezing we would drain the water from the radiator and adding hot water in the morning aided starting. In the daytime covering the radiator with a blanket would be sufficient.

Oh! For the good old days! You can have them.

School was out in May and I had been home a few days. Prospects for work, other than the farm, appeared to range from very poor to nil. We were well into the depression and work was scarce so I was resigned to spending another summer on the farm and hoping to pick up a little part time work now and then. But the situation changed almost immediately.

Dad learned that bridge gang was working on the highway just west of Monticello, so we went over there and talked to the supervisor. He was authorized to hire someone and told me to report to work Monday morning. Of course we were overjoyed. on the way home Dad confided that I was hired because he was a Mason. I was impressed so that I joined as soon as I could.

The state of Mississippi was upgrading roads and bridges and all the bridges in about a fifteen mile stretch of Highway 22 needed replacing. This project took all summer, and after the first week I lived at home, which was advantageous. The pay was fifteen cents an hour and we were expected to work sixty hours a week. If rain kept us from working as much as one-half hour we had to make it up, however, we seldom had interruptions. All the others lived elsewhere so we usually started at 6:00 o'clock and worked eleven hours so we could stop at noon on Saturday. Not having to pay for room and board, I saved about $100 that summer, which was about the first semester's tuition at Mississippi College.

The engineers had marked where the new bridges were to be and the pile drive had put the piles in place. We had to dig with pick and shovel, so we could nail the heavy, creosoted, planks to the piles and then backfill. After completing both bulkheads we constructed the bridge of heavy oak timbers. It was an interesting exercise to nail the heavy oak plans which constituted the floor of the bridge. One person would set up a row of spikes with an ordinary hammer while another would follow with a sledge hammer to drive them down. Wielding the sledge hammer was a continuous operation which required good eye and arm coordination. We tried to get each spike down with two blows and usually did.

The highway was a one-lane gravel road but wide enough for two cars to pass. The bridges were also one-lane and the ones we built only spanned small streams. It was hard work and, in addition to the hot sun, the creosote in the plans was irritating. Also we had to saw off the tops of the pilip and teat the cut surfaces with hot tar. Of course, we always had a keg of ice water available. Frequently after work we would take a dip in the "ole swimmin' hole".

To put this in perspective: this was 58 years ago and automobiles were primitive and there were no real large trucks. Railroads carried the heavy freight.