Top Photo: "Remains of Edgewood School"Bottom Photo: "Remains of Ponto Smith's General Store
Credit /Financial Training
The Yellow Creek Valley boasted four general stores from the headwaters to the Cumberland River. Two of the enterprises were within my reach as I traversed my narrow circumference of the valley.
Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie, as they were commonly called by their patrons, were proprietors of the more sophisticated enterprise and Mr. Andrew, who was always referred as “Ponto”, was in charge of the other.
My Grandfather, son of the Confederate Veteran, grandson of the Revolutionary War Veteran, built the edifice occupied by Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie. My mother, born in 1901, became the operator, bookkeeper, inventory specialist, janitor and all around in charge person once she reached her twelfth year, long before Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie entered the neighborhood.
Bartering was not uncommon at the general stores in the 1940’s, which was my decade to wheel and deal with the keepers of the mercantile. The family’s retail purchases were limited to commodities not raised or manufactured on the farm.
Quart jars of peanut butter, boxes of saltine crackers, twenty five pound sacks of flour and dried beans, coal oil, and brogan shoes for wearing to school in the winter,. (barefoot was the seasonal style for late spring and summer), nothing like plowing barefoot and feeling the cool clods of soil beneath your feet or accidentally stepping into a fresh pile of bovine scat and feel it squish between your toes.
All who attended the one room country school were in uniform, even back in the fourth decade of the twentieth century, all boys wore bib overalls with patches on the knees and seat and girls wore homemade print dresses made from the cloth of “feed sacks”. Some of the less affluent boys would wear “hand me down” brogans which were too large but would have old cloth packed in the toes to take up the excess space. Usually there would be a piece of cardboard inside to cover the hole in the soles.
Coal Oil, a derivative of coal, manufactured by the distillation process of coal , was a necessary product in rural America. Not only was it used for a quick start in the wood burning stove, but was of great medicinal value in the treatment of frostbite, severe cuts, nails stuck in bare feet and when mixed with various barks and herbs, could eliminate more severe maladies when taken internally.
Coal oil was usually transported from the general store to the farm home via one gallon cans with spouts. The spouts would have a little “screw on” cap, which was the first component lost. Once the little cap was lost, an Irish Potato pushed down over the spout served as a “stopper“. “Irish Potato stoppers were used as components to many types of vessels, as corn cobs were the stoppers of choice for crocks of moonshine whiskey.
I would traverse the “foot log” across Yellow Creek and enter Uncle Water and Aunt Annie’s general store with a dozen eggs to barter for a gallon of coal oil and/or some other commodity needed by the family. Sometimes I would be told to have my purchase “put on the books”.
An ice house located in Dickson delivered ice to the rural folk. Everyone who owned an icebox had a sign or placard hung out on delivery day with the desired weight placed in the readable position; there was 25, 50, 75, and 100. When 25 was showing , 50 was upside down and 75 and 100 were sideways, or in some instances, the 75 and 100 were on the reverse side of the weight placard.
The only place to find a “cold drink” was in the store with the ice. There would be Double Cola, Coca Cola, Pepsi Cola, 7-Up, Nehi Grape, Orange Crush and sometimes some other brands. All would cost a nickel and there was no such thing as deposit on bottles. There was only one catch, none of us had a nickel unless out of the goodness of the adult’s heart they would give us some money or buy us a bottle. Always we would take the Double Cola or the Pepsi Cola because they were bigger and had more drink for the nickel. Coca Cola had a swell taste, however the contents were only six ounces., the other brands had twelve.
Some Saturday Nights when the spinster aunt school teacher was going off courting with the bread man in his Hudson and my uncle was off to a Honky Tonk in another county, the old cripple grandmother would give me a dozen eggs to go to Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie’s store and barter for the ingredients of our “junk supper”. She always referred to this type of meal as a “junk supper” and only she and I partook in the breaking of the saltine cracker.
There would be potted meat, bologna, cheese, crackers, sardines, hot pepper sauce and of course Double Colas. I love it! WOW, what a treat from the everyday cuisine of beans, potatoes and cornbread. This was gourmet dining!
I became the only family member to darken the door of Ponto’s store. The place was dark, dismal and old Ponto would peer at you with his little beady eyes and grin; rocks have more personality than Ponto ever had. Later in life I read Harper Lee’s Novel, To Kill A Mockingbird, I could relate to Scout and Jem Finch and the Mystery Man next door, “Boo Radley”. But Ponto knew how to make money and I really believe he was a rich man.
I never had any money, no jingle in the pocket, but I was not alone, neither did my peers. In fact, there were not too many adults that had anything to jingle in the early 1940s. I don’t think old Coleman Jones had any jingle either. He lived in an old disheveled house out on Fleet Town Road with half the roof gone from the front porch and part of the indoors had only a dirt floor. He had a house full of children and when they walked down the Maysville Road in single file, their appearance was synonymous with a female Partridge and her chicks in tow.
Old Coleman found his wife Eunice through mail order. He “sent off” for her just like you would place an order for merchandise through the Sears Roebuck Catalog. She came from California, a pitiful sight to behold, and Ed Edwards felt sorry for her and remarked that since she had “come all the way here by train”, if Coleman didn’t marry her, he would.
Coleman wasn’t too industrious, didn’t have much talent nor energy. I figured in my boyhood mind that it took lots of energy to make all those babies they had in their house. Soap and bathing wasn’t part of their normal routine either, so you wanted to stay upwind at all times in their presence.
I just know he was always a sight to behold, bringing his entourage down the road in route to Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie’s General Store.
My grandmother would sound the alarm that Coleman was coming down the road, this would give my aunt, the spinster school teacher, time to cross the foot log and arrive at the store before Old Coleman.
He had favorites among his children, and when arriving at the store, he would purchase a “cold drink” for himself and his one favorite child. The others would have to just sit and watch him drink the Double Cola and they wouldn’t get any. That is the reason for my grandmother sounding the alarm for her daughter to get to the store. She was not going to have any of this behavior to happen in the store her deceased husband had built.
So my Aunt would buy “Cold Drinks” for all the children who arrived with Coleman.
Old Coleman picked blackberries in the wild briar thickets during the summer. He was accompanied by all his children and poor Eunice, the California Woman. Coleman counted the blackberries he picked, arriving at my grandmother’s house with a number twelve wash tub overflowing with blackberries.
He would say, “Miss Addie, I have twenty three thousand, four hundred and seventy nine berries in that thar tub”! Grandmother would ask him how much he wanted for the tub full of berries, pay him and begin preparing to make jam, jelly and blackberry cobblers.
I’ll bet Coleman’s bunch were covered in chiggers. I know the children standing around while he did his sales pitch would be doing a lot of scratching.
Anyway, I always thought that Old Coleman was like me, no jingle in the pocket.
I cannot , for the likes of me, recollect what I had done or from whence my windfall was created, but I was suppose to receive a dime, ten cents, absolute riches. I was to receive this money on a particular day, possibly around my birthday and perhaps was to be a present. After all the years I do not rightly recollect why I was to get the money; but Oh, you better believe I remember the consequences of owning the money.
Traversing to Edgewood School I passed Ponto’s store. He never had metal signs outside advertising Coca Cola or Double Cola or 7 Up or Nehi Grape or Orange Crush, because he had no coolers and consequently no cold drinks.
He did have a big glass candy case with a stick of bologna that had turned green on the open end, some American cheese that was covered in mould, melted chocolate candy that when the wrapper was opened the brown chocolate had turned white, bags of old peanuts and advertising signs that shouted, “Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco”!
Knowing I was going to be rich tomorrow, I’d see if Mr. Andrew (Ponto) would sell me a candy bar today, “on the books”.
Ponto was more than willing to sell me my “Payday” candy bar and he had received my promise to pay him tomorrow morning on my way to school plus he had my signature in his big ledger book.
Next morning I looked forward with great anticipation the culmination of my debt, going by Ponto’s store, paying him what I owed and still having a nickel available for another candy bar. Candy bars were few and far between in my childhood, but beans potatoes and corn bread were in ample supply.
Ponto saw me coming and went inside his lair to await his prey.
“Mr. Andrew, I have the money I owe you and I’d like to buy that “Zero” candy bar over there”.
Ponto let me know in no uncertain terms that I did not have enough money to buy another candy bar.
“You bought a candy bar yesterday on credit. When you buy on credit there is interest on the debt.”
On that day in the spring of 1945, in the Yellow Creek Valley, alongside the gravel Edgewood Road, in a musty, dimly lit general store at 7:15 AM, Robert McClurkan was taught his first lesson in economics. I learned a lot, I was given “Financial Training”.
His candy bar had bugs in it anyway.
Credit /Financial Training
The Yellow Creek Valley boasted four general stores from the headwaters to the Cumberland River. Two of the enterprises were within my reach as I traversed my narrow circumference of the valley.
Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie, as they were commonly called by their patrons, were proprietors of the more sophisticated enterprise and Mr. Andrew, who was always referred as “Ponto”, was in charge of the other.
My Grandfather, son of the Confederate Veteran, grandson of the Revolutionary War Veteran, built the edifice occupied by Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie. My mother, born in 1901, became the operator, bookkeeper, inventory specialist, janitor and all around in charge person once she reached her twelfth year, long before Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie entered the neighborhood.
Bartering was not uncommon at the general stores in the 1940’s, which was my decade to wheel and deal with the keepers of the mercantile. The family’s retail purchases were limited to commodities not raised or manufactured on the farm.
Quart jars of peanut butter, boxes of saltine crackers, twenty five pound sacks of flour and dried beans, coal oil, and brogan shoes for wearing to school in the winter,. (barefoot was the seasonal style for late spring and summer), nothing like plowing barefoot and feeling the cool clods of soil beneath your feet or accidentally stepping into a fresh pile of bovine scat and feel it squish between your toes.
All who attended the one room country school were in uniform, even back in the fourth decade of the twentieth century, all boys wore bib overalls with patches on the knees and seat and girls wore homemade print dresses made from the cloth of “feed sacks”. Some of the less affluent boys would wear “hand me down” brogans which were too large but would have old cloth packed in the toes to take up the excess space. Usually there would be a piece of cardboard inside to cover the hole in the soles.
Coal Oil, a derivative of coal, manufactured by the distillation process of coal , was a necessary product in rural America. Not only was it used for a quick start in the wood burning stove, but was of great medicinal value in the treatment of frostbite, severe cuts, nails stuck in bare feet and when mixed with various barks and herbs, could eliminate more severe maladies when taken internally.
Coal oil was usually transported from the general store to the farm home via one gallon cans with spouts. The spouts would have a little “screw on” cap, which was the first component lost. Once the little cap was lost, an Irish Potato pushed down over the spout served as a “stopper“. “Irish Potato stoppers were used as components to many types of vessels, as corn cobs were the stoppers of choice for crocks of moonshine whiskey.
I would traverse the “foot log” across Yellow Creek and enter Uncle Water and Aunt Annie’s general store with a dozen eggs to barter for a gallon of coal oil and/or some other commodity needed by the family. Sometimes I would be told to have my purchase “put on the books”.
An ice house located in Dickson delivered ice to the rural folk. Everyone who owned an icebox had a sign or placard hung out on delivery day with the desired weight placed in the readable position; there was 25, 50, 75, and 100. When 25 was showing , 50 was upside down and 75 and 100 were sideways, or in some instances, the 75 and 100 were on the reverse side of the weight placard.
When the ice man arrived I would grab a handful of salt and run to his livery to pour salt on pieces of ice to eat. Oh, what a treat it was to eat ice with salt on a hot summer day. Although Grandmother’s family were considered affluent and owned an ice box, we also utilized our “Springhouse” to store freshly churned butter, buttermilk, sweet milk and other perishables.
Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie also had an icebox and other types of coolers in their general store, Mr. Andrew didn’t have any “cold storage” available in his store. My family said he was a “tight wad”, we didn’t trade with Ponto.
Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie also had an icebox and other types of coolers in their general store, Mr. Andrew didn’t have any “cold storage” available in his store. My family said he was a “tight wad”, we didn’t trade with Ponto.
The only place to find a “cold drink” was in the store with the ice. There would be Double Cola, Coca Cola, Pepsi Cola, 7-Up, Nehi Grape, Orange Crush and sometimes some other brands. All would cost a nickel and there was no such thing as deposit on bottles. There was only one catch, none of us had a nickel unless out of the goodness of the adult’s heart they would give us some money or buy us a bottle. Always we would take the Double Cola or the Pepsi Cola because they were bigger and had more drink for the nickel. Coca Cola had a swell taste, however the contents were only six ounces., the other brands had twelve.
Some Saturday Nights when the spinster aunt school teacher was going off courting with the bread man in his Hudson and my uncle was off to a Honky Tonk in another county, the old cripple grandmother would give me a dozen eggs to go to Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie’s store and barter for the ingredients of our “junk supper”. She always referred to this type of meal as a “junk supper” and only she and I partook in the breaking of the saltine cracker.
There would be potted meat, bologna, cheese, crackers, sardines, hot pepper sauce and of course Double Colas. I love it! WOW, what a treat from the everyday cuisine of beans, potatoes and cornbread. This was gourmet dining!
Once, on a rainy night I slipped on the “foot log” crossing the creek and ended up at the store with the interior egg components dripping from the basket.
I became the only family member to darken the door of Ponto’s store. The place was dark, dismal and old Ponto would peer at you with his little beady eyes and grin; rocks have more personality than Ponto ever had. Later in life I read Harper Lee’s Novel, To Kill A Mockingbird, I could relate to Scout and Jem Finch and the Mystery Man next door, “Boo Radley”. But Ponto knew how to make money and I really believe he was a rich man.
I never had any money, no jingle in the pocket, but I was not alone, neither did my peers. In fact, there were not too many adults that had anything to jingle in the early 1940s. I don’t think old Coleman Jones had any jingle either. He lived in an old disheveled house out on Fleet Town Road with half the roof gone from the front porch and part of the indoors had only a dirt floor. He had a house full of children and when they walked down the Maysville Road in single file, their appearance was synonymous with a female Partridge and her chicks in tow.
Old Coleman found his wife Eunice through mail order. He “sent off” for her just like you would place an order for merchandise through the Sears Roebuck Catalog. She came from California, a pitiful sight to behold, and Ed Edwards felt sorry for her and remarked that since she had “come all the way here by train”, if Coleman didn’t marry her, he would.
Coleman wasn’t too industrious, didn’t have much talent nor energy. I figured in my boyhood mind that it took lots of energy to make all those babies they had in their house. Soap and bathing wasn’t part of their normal routine either, so you wanted to stay upwind at all times in their presence.
I just know he was always a sight to behold, bringing his entourage down the road in route to Uncle Walter and Aunt Annie’s General Store.
My grandmother would sound the alarm that Coleman was coming down the road, this would give my aunt, the spinster school teacher, time to cross the foot log and arrive at the store before Old Coleman.
He had favorites among his children, and when arriving at the store, he would purchase a “cold drink” for himself and his one favorite child. The others would have to just sit and watch him drink the Double Cola and they wouldn’t get any. That is the reason for my grandmother sounding the alarm for her daughter to get to the store. She was not going to have any of this behavior to happen in the store her deceased husband had built.
So my Aunt would buy “Cold Drinks” for all the children who arrived with Coleman.
Old Coleman picked blackberries in the wild briar thickets during the summer. He was accompanied by all his children and poor Eunice, the California Woman. Coleman counted the blackberries he picked, arriving at my grandmother’s house with a number twelve wash tub overflowing with blackberries.
He would say, “Miss Addie, I have twenty three thousand, four hundred and seventy nine berries in that thar tub”! Grandmother would ask him how much he wanted for the tub full of berries, pay him and begin preparing to make jam, jelly and blackberry cobblers.
I’ll bet Coleman’s bunch were covered in chiggers. I know the children standing around while he did his sales pitch would be doing a lot of scratching.
Anyway, I always thought that Old Coleman was like me, no jingle in the pocket.
I cannot , for the likes of me, recollect what I had done or from whence my windfall was created, but I was suppose to receive a dime, ten cents, absolute riches. I was to receive this money on a particular day, possibly around my birthday and perhaps was to be a present. After all the years I do not rightly recollect why I was to get the money; but Oh, you better believe I remember the consequences of owning the money.
Traversing to Edgewood School I passed Ponto’s store. He never had metal signs outside advertising Coca Cola or Double Cola or 7 Up or Nehi Grape or Orange Crush, because he had no coolers and consequently no cold drinks.
He did have a big glass candy case with a stick of bologna that had turned green on the open end, some American cheese that was covered in mould, melted chocolate candy that when the wrapper was opened the brown chocolate had turned white, bags of old peanuts and advertising signs that shouted, “Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco”!
Knowing I was going to be rich tomorrow, I’d see if Mr. Andrew (Ponto) would sell me a candy bar today, “on the books”.
Ponto was more than willing to sell me my “Payday” candy bar and he had received my promise to pay him tomorrow morning on my way to school plus he had my signature in his big ledger book.
Next morning I looked forward with great anticipation the culmination of my debt, going by Ponto’s store, paying him what I owed and still having a nickel available for another candy bar. Candy bars were few and far between in my childhood, but beans potatoes and corn bread were in ample supply.
Ponto saw me coming and went inside his lair to await his prey.
“Mr. Andrew, I have the money I owe you and I’d like to buy that “Zero” candy bar over there”.
Ponto let me know in no uncertain terms that I did not have enough money to buy another candy bar.
“You bought a candy bar yesterday on credit. When you buy on credit there is interest on the debt.”
Staring at me with those beady eyes through those little oval shaped glasses he said, “The interest on your debt is one hundred percent per day, so your other nickel goes toward the interest, and you don’t have any more money for candy”.
On that day in the spring of 1945, in the Yellow Creek Valley, alongside the gravel Edgewood Road, in a musty, dimly lit general store at 7:15 AM, Robert McClurkan was taught his first lesson in economics. I learned a lot, I was given “Financial Training”.
His candy bar had bugs in it anyway.
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