Document text
April 10, 1939.
Mrs. D. E. Greer (white),
403 S. Main St.,
Hendersonville, N.C.
Domestic servant.
Luline L. Mabry, writer.
Douglas Carter, reviser.
"EVERY PENNY COUNTS"
Original Names
r-
Mrs.NGreer
Mrs. T. R. Barrows
Barrovian Lodge
Hendersonville
Lila (Peace)
Garfield Peace
Skyland Hotel
Mts. Lee
Flat Rock
(unknown)
Changed Names
Mrs. Gray
Mrs. A. M. Bartlett
Ambarrial Lodge
Lawrenceville
Lula (Price)
George Price
Cloudland Hotel
Mrs. Rand
Little Rock
Jake (Gray)
"EVERY PENNY COUNTS"
"Well," said Mrs. Gray, easing herself into a comfortable
chair as if it were a great treat to be able to sit down for
a while, "I have two very hard problems, if not more. First,
we're both too old to have to work so hard my husband and I
and we can't hardly earn enough to keep up with our expenses.
Seems like there's always somethin' happenin' to us that makes
us go in debt, and then we have to do without so much that we
need in order to ever get straight with the people we owe. Then,
we have a son on the chain gang. I guess he's about our greatest
worry, but we just can't help it."
Yrs. Gray, 57 years old, is cook and general houseworker for
Mrs. A. M. Bartlett,who operates her home as Ambarrial Lodge,
taking as many guests as her house can accommodate, and also
serving meals to the general public during the summer months.
"Lest summeir we served between 30 and 35 dinners every day,
and there are always three meals a day here," Mrs. Gray explained.
"Of course, Mrs. Bartlett has other help in summer, but you
know housework is never finished. There's always a job waiting
to be started around a place like this."
I had asked Mrs. Bartlett's permission to interview Mrs.
Gray, and the latter had entered the living room with reluctant
steps, uncertain as to what would be recuired of her, but I had
lost no time putting her at ease. Her blue eyes look weary,
and her straight, rather straggly light -brown hair is just
twisted up and hurriedly pinned back from her lined face,
telling a story of a woman always too tired to give much
thought or attention to her personal appearance.
Her blue print dress was almost entirely covered by a
large white apron made of bleached muslin. On her large feet
she wore soiled white canvas shoes that had been worn past their
capacity for confining her toes, which could be seen bulging
through several holes. A few inches of black lisle stockings
were visible below her rather long dress. There was no semblance
of style about her outfit: just something to cover a bulky and
weary -looking body.
"I was born right here in Lawrenceville, and grew up her,‘"
she said. "I've been married about 38 years I've forgotten
the exact date and had nine children, but all of 'em but two is
married now, and no expense to us. Every one of 'em's been nice,
good children except this 19 -year -old boy that's given us so much
trouble. He steals. He never steals anything from anyone but
us, and we're thankful for that, but he just will take anything
from our home that he thinks he can sell for anything at all.
He don't drink thank the Lord but when he gets any money he
heads for the picture shows, and if he can get ahold of enough
money he buys clothes and things that none of us can afford.
Seems like we just can't keep a single thing at home without
we keep it under lock and key, and we never seem able to buy locks.
The boy's done this way ever since he was about 11 years old.
We've had him at a State training school twice, but that never
seemed to do him any good except as his schoolin' went. You
see, at the training school their teachin' is better and goes
higher than what the children get in the Lawrenceville schools.
He finished the seventh grade at the training school, but, you
see, compared to our school, that means that he's really been
through the ninth grade, so the boy's got a fairly good education.
"We just put up with him as long as we could; then his
father called an officer and made the stealing charge against
him, and told the officer that the boy would have to go to the
chain gang. I was at his trial, and it hurt me pretty bad to
have to see him sent there; but with us gettin' old, and me in
the shape I'm in, and his father bein' able to earn so little,
there just wasn't anything else we could do, I guess.
"What did he steal? Well, just about everything that wasn't
tied down. He even stole a pound of fresh butter last summer
that I'd just bought, and sold it somewhere. My daughter give
me a lovely pink slip silk, too for Christmas three years
ago. It cost her $2. It never had been out of the box, 'cept
as I'd take it out and look at it, and admire it, and show it to
some of my friends. I was so proud of it Well, the boy stole
that and sold it. Then I had a string of beads that a friend
give me. I kept the beads for about 12 years. She's dead now
the friend that give 'em to me and I prized those beads such
a lot! The boy stole those, and I never was able to find who
he sold 'em to. I'd have tried to get 'em back if he would
have told me what he did with 'em. He stole just anything we
had or that was ever given to us, if he thought he could get
any money out of it.
"We think there's something wrong with the boy that could
be corrected, maybe, if we had the money to have him examined
by the right doctors, because none of our other children has
ever showed any signs of bein' dishonest. If we just had the
money we believe somethin' might be done for him. Of course,
we love him in spite of all the trouble he's caused us, and
we hate to think about him bein' on the chain gang. We wish
he could be made a good boy like the others I had. It's
somethin' that he just can't help, himself, and we don't have
the money to help him. It's a pity, that's what it is!"
Looking out of the window toward the next house to the
north, Yrs. Gray said, "We live right next door. The chief
o' police got that house for us for only $5 a month, and if
it wasn't for that I really don't know what we'd do. We
couldn't afford to pay a penny more. It's kinda shabby, but
we ain't got money to fix it up, and we've got to live somewhere."
The house she indicated is one of the most dilapidated
old shells left in Lawrenceville a relic of former days.
Located only a short distance from the business district, it,
will probably soon be razed to make room for a modern structure.
Paint has long since been effaced by weather, and there is
scarcely a pane of glass left in the rattly windows. Sheets
cold
of cardboard and bulges of old clothing have kept out what/they
could during the winter.
The last blade of grass has disappeared from the narrow
yard, and at the edge of the lot an ugly stump marks the spot
where once a lilac bush stood. A few courageous shoots have
crept out around the edges of the stump, but it is hardly
possible that they will survive the scuffling feet of the
children who play in front of the house grandchildren of the
Grays.
"We had a bad winter," Mrs. Gray was saying. "My husband
got hurt and was unable to do anything for six weeks. He's on
the WPA, and was helping paint a schoolhouse. They got that
job done, and was moving the scaffoldin' and ladders and things
over to another schoolhouse. They piled a lot of ladders into
a truck, and it was pretty dangerous for anyone to try ridin'
in the back of the truck with all those ladders, but that's
what they told him to do. The truck driver was one of them
rough drivers, and when they got to the main road and started
to the next job, the ladders begun to lean, and started fallin'
out of the truck. The driver just kept on going, and my
husband was throwed out onto the road with ladders fallin' all
around him. That was on December 13th. It broke his left arm o(AyC
his ankle, and in fact his whole left side was so badly bruised
and hurt that he was laid up for about six weeks. All he got
during that time was $19, but the relief people paid his doctor
bill. Now, all he's able to do is a flagman's job where there
are gangs of WPA men workin' on the roads. He gets $14.72
every two weeks.
"All I get is $4 a week. I was only gettin' $3.50 a week,
and I quit; then Mrs. Bartlett give me $4 a week to come back,
but"- Mrs. Gray cast a sly glance toward the kitchen, and
lowered her already soft voice -"I can't stand this work much
longer, and I'm gonna have to quit for good. I'm gonna try to
find me a job that ain't quite so hard. You see, I ain't really
able to work at all: I've got two ruptures outside ones that
nearly kill me all the time. One has growed out so big that I
can't cover it with both hands, and it weighs several pounds.
The other side is VOINI4X1111001M gettin' bigger all the time,
too, and they drag me down so, and make my back ache so,that I
can hardly stand it. Bein' on my feet is terribly hard on me."
I asked if some sort of supporting corset would be of help
to her, and she replied, "Yes, there's one that would help me,
but I can't buy it. My brother bought me one 10 or 12 years
ago. It cost $14, and it helped me just as long as it held
together. But he can't help me like that any more, and I never
could hope to get money enough ahead to buy one for myself."
"What do you do for recreation and amusement?" I inquired.
"Nothing. I never get time to go anywhere. I've not been
to church in over three years."
"Don't some of your children help you?"
"Well, my daughter Lula she's married to George Price
NW works as pantry girl at the Cloudland Hotel, and she helps
me a little, but she don't make much herself, and George is
only a caretaker for Mrs. Rand at Little Rock, and he don't
make much either. They're tryin' to send the little boy they
adopted to school, and he's awful hard on his clothes. George
is awful nervous, too, and not very well, and he's tryin' to
get Lula to stop workin' at the hotel, and stay home and cook
for him. He thinks maybe if he had regular meals he might get
to feeling better.
"Then there's Jake, our youngest our 'baby boy' 15 years
old: we're hopin' he can get a job of some kind. He's a smart
boy, and a good boy, too, but this winter he was very sick for
about three months. He was doing just fine in school, but he
lost so much time, and school is so near out that he's not
goin' back until next year. The doctors said he had rheumatic
fever. I paid and paid and paid, just as long as I could, for
the doctors. Then Mrs. Bartlett took my case to the county
doctor, and he helped our boy more than any doctor we'd had.
They were all so good to us. Mrs. Bartlett is a grand woman,
but this work is just too hard for me.
"We have to send our boy on the chain gang a few little
extras, too. You know, the State has stopped givin"em
anything except their clothes and food. Our boy smokes, and
he's nervous and discontented all the time, so we try to keep
him in tobacco. He has beautiful teeth, and he's so proud of
them! And when he writes home and says, 'ma, please send me
some more tooth paste,' you know we just have to do it: It
don't cost much, but every penny counts when you don't make any
more'n we do."
Yrs. Gray, looking toward the kitchen again, began slowly
to rise, saying it was time for her "to start dinner." She
made her laborious way out of the room, and I could see that
her mind was already engrossed in the noonday meal she was about
to prepare.