Living on the West End: August memories

By Bill Shepard

We are already waist-deep into the month of August, and by the time you are reading this, we will be near the end.

When I was a boy, the cotton fields would have been picked over at least once and the tobacco crop would already be on the warehouse floors. The large warehouse on the south end of Darlington would be alive with the sound coming from the auctioneers and the boys.

The auctioneers were selling the tobacco and the boys were selling boiled peanuts.

Boiled peanuts sold easily for 10 cents a bag and the tobacco sold for whatever the various tobacco companies were willing to pay for it. It was indeed the farmer’s best money crop. This was without doubt the best time of the year for the merchants on the town square in Darlington.

There was still cotton in the fields that needed picking; however, most fields would have been picked over once. There were still three weeks left before schools would open after the long three-month summer vacation.

Life on the mill village during the period of which I write was lacking a lot. The houses had no running water inside and though they had been wired for electricity when built, most occupants could not afford the $1 a month electric bill.

One faucet on the back porch of each house supplied water for all uses. Most bathing was done inside a No. 2 tin washtub. That could account for why the wash-hole on Swift Creek was such a busy place during those hot summer months!

As time progressed, the Mill Company started having screen doors and windows placed in the houses. Carpenters furnished by the company would nail screen wire over the windows, and that was a great help in keeping mosquitoes and other flying insects outside. It also meant that on those hot and muggy nights, one could sleep with the windows raised. What a relief that would be!

Without electricity there was no need for electric appliances, even if one could have bought one! As I sit here, my air conditioner is running and my thermostat set at 72 degrees; a bright light is shining on the pages as I write. It is hard to believe the things I am writing!

Could I really be the little boy who used to follow the ice wagon as it made its way along the narrow dirt street of the village? And when it would stop, the big black man would chip the ice for a customer and then give me a handful of the chips. Could I? Yes, I remember those days!

When the ice cream man passed on Fridays, we would often buy a 10-cent piece of ice. If we kept it wrapped tightly inside a heavy piece of cloth, or an old blanket, or a piece of one of Mama’s worn-out quilts, it might last until Sunday. When that would happen, we would enjoy a glass of cold iced tea with our Sunday dinner. What a treat that would be!

The most ugly part of August was the terrible sore eyes! No place on Earth were the sore eyes meaner than on the mill village. If the village nurse were still alive, she would be my witness. She would tell of the children she treated with “Argy-Ol” (spelling may be incorrect). It was a dark brown liquid, and she would doctor the children’s eyes, then leave a bottle at the house to be used later.

I saw babies when they would awake in the early morning and their eyes would not open, start screaming and continue until someone with a soft and warm cloth bathed their eyes.

I remember spending entire days shut up in a dark room or closet to avoid any light reaching my eyes. My Mama would often hang a quilt over the windows to keep out the sunlight!

Sore eyes (not pink-eye) did not heal quickly. They would last for weeks and when they were finally healed, the eyes would remain weak for a long time. Some children would be late in starting back to school in September because of the “sore eyes.”

Author: Stephan Drew

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