Life in the Valley 3 - Langdale Mill

Life in the Valley 3

Langdale Mill

At the ages of 5, 6 and 7, I didn’t worry about the economy, people’s jobs, union’s or how people made a living. I didn’t know poverty or wealth.  Like many children born in the 50’s, my world was made of doll babies and carriages, puppies and kittens, the invention of tv, attending kindergarten where we lived in Columbus, Ga and going to visit my grandparents in the Valley which was in Langdale and Shawmut Alabama.

 I was one of the third generation of children who enjoyed the amenities that were offered in this small-town atmosphere now known as Valley, Alabama.  In my mind I could never have imagined that people would ever need to commute to places like Atlanta, Columbus, Montgomery, or Birmingham for work or that large foreign vehicle manufacturers would have to move in to boost the economy.  We thought the large textile mills in the towns of Fairfax, Langdale, Riverview, Lanett, Shawmut, Alabama and West Point, Ga. would live on forever.

 Life revolved around the mills. So that production did not slowdown, the floors of the spinning room were worn thin with the women and men who kept the looms and the spindles filled with thread cones and the machinery in top notch condition. Before her stroke, Granny Crowder worked in the Spinning Room and with the looms as did my mother.

My Papo Crowder was a second-generation mill worker and a people person who supervised hundreds of workers in the Langdale Mill encouraging them to keep up the good work.

Dan Crowder was a dark haired gentle man, always wore a smile and loved life. He stood about five foot seven, was slender, wore glasses , had a receding hairline and a sense of humor.   He smoked heavily and was a diabetic which most likely contributed to his untimely death at the age of 62.  He took his work seriously and was devoted to his wife, Lottie Belle.  He had a wonderful baritone voice and I remember him spontaneously singing in the kitchen as he helped to make the evening meal or wash dishes, "Are Ye Able, Said the Master" or Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me".

 Workers and residents alike enjoyed the "mill" lifestyle in its heyday. My Uncle Danny worked as a mechanic for the mill as did my daddy. Life revolved around the mill and whatever was going on was influenced by "the company". Events and holidays were celebrated by the company as were the people.

 Almost everyone in the Valley had a parent, son, daughter or a relative that worked in the mills in some capacity but as they saw the company changing hands over and over it would seem that the writing was on the wall and the utopia would not last.

My mother and father worked in the mills right after they were married however Daddy already knew that he wanted a better life for their future.  Mama’s had lots of bad memories about her childhood and I'm sure he hoped to give her some relief.

  As the mills changed hands so did some of the amenities that were offered by “the company” Daddy feared that the mill would not see them through to raising their children and retirement so he signed up  at a local recruiting office for the Navy and became a recruiter himself in Columbus, Ga.

Going "Home" - Our arrival

Many were the visits to my Papo and Granny Crowder’s home in Langdale and my Papo and Granny McDonald in Shawmut from the time I was born in 1954 until the late 60’s.  Both my sisters, Donna and Jennifer were born in Langdale at George H. Lanier Hospital, in 1952 and 1961, respectively.  I was born in New London Connecticut Naval Hospital in Groton, Connecticut in between my daddy’s tour of duty there.

Moma and Daddy came " home" for the important things like having a baby and because Moma had to have cesarean births they wanted to be somewhere that family could help with the recuperation.  On the other hand, Moma had followed Daddy to Groton because she was so homesick for him so they opted to have me in the New London Connecticut Naval Hospital.

We spent our summer vacations and Christmas’s in “the Valley”.  I thought there was nothing better than to go to town with Papo and visit the department stores in West Point.  Sometimes Mama would take me to the shoe store for a new pair of sneakers or JC Penny to get a new dress or a pair of shorts for the summer but what I looked forward to the most was going into Woolworth’s five and dime to buy a package of brightly colored bamboo umbrellas…the kind that go in adult beverages.  To me they were perfect as parasols for my paper dolls and the dime I got from Papo would burn a hole in my pocket until I scarfed them up and quickly tore the cellophane wrapper off with the little oval gold tag that said “made in china” on it.  I would lose the next couple of days in my make-believe world with my paper dolls dancing around with their new umbrellas.

Bedtime at Granny and Papo Crowder’s

When we visited, Mama and Daddy got the guest bedroom, with a tiny little pedestal sink and a toilet in it. Donna got the studio couch in the living room.  I always got to sleep with Granny.

Granny and Papo’s bedroom had two double beds on either side of the bathroom door.  Granny needed to frequent the bathroom several times during the night because the stoke had affected the strength of her bladder.

 She could get herself out of the bed on her right side easily if she needed to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, without disturbing Papo.   I later figured out that Granny’s stroke had also affected her circulation and she was always cold.  She slept with multiple layers of blankets on her bed. My guess is that Papo just couldn’t handle all that heat either.   I know because I was the recipient of it too. There were no fans in the windows during the summer and no air conditioning.  Nevertheless, she was always cold.

  Granny was a terrific storyteller and bedtime stories before I went to sleep was a treat.  But getting Granny ready for bed was a production.   While I put my pajamas on I lay on the side of her bed next to the wall propped up on mounds of pillows I’d watch and wait while my Papo patiently slipped off her cardigan sweater, unbuttoned her shirtwaist dress, (something she always wore) and slipped her flannel nightgown around her crippled arm. She also wore an elasticized bonnet to protect her hair-do and keep her warm at night. She always wore white anklet socks and brogan shoes during the day and at night she wore tennis shoes because they didn’t want to chance her falling.  I suppose going to the bathroom was traumatic for both my grandmother and grandfather because she said that when she had her stoke she had fallen in the bathroom.

Once granny was ready for bed I climbed under the piles of blankets and she sort of free fell onto her side of the bed.  She rocked back and forth until she could lift her left foot with her right leg and get it into the bed. Her left side didn’t work at all and she had no feeling in it.

 I listened to the stories of the three Billy Goat’s Gruff, Uncle Remus’s Tar Baby with Brer Rabbit getting his fist caught in the tar baby and Brer Fox laughing at him behind the bushes because he’d out smarted Brer Rabbit again.

She often told me about Chicken Little having an acorn fall on his head and thinking the sky was falling and how he told Turkey Lurkey and he told Henny Penny and she told Goosey Loosey and they all decided that they needed to run all over creation screaming the “Sky is falling and  go tell the King” Or the story of the Little Red Hen who did everything for herself because she couldn’t get anyone to help her.  When she got tired and slurred her words because she was falling asleep I’d interrupt saying, “And then what happened”, or I’d catch her rushing through the details and remind her that she wasn’t telling the story right.  Id say, “Tell the part where the troll came out on the bridge and wouldn’t let the billy goats cross “. She’d laugh and try to finish telling the story but finally, she’d tell me she had to go to sleep and that her “jaws were aching”.

 I huffed, cross my arms furrowed my brows and pouted.  She’d tell me, “Patty, Papo needs to go to work tomorrow so we needed to go to sleep.  Now you go on to the bathroom, so you don’t wet the bed.”

Crawling up over her, I jumped down on the wooden floor in my bare feet, went to the bathroom and crawled back over her and under the covers, pop my thumb in my mouth and try my best to go to sleep.

 A few hours into the heavy pile of covers I would start to roast like a Thanksgiving turkey.  My whole body was like it had been slid into an oven. My long brown hair now sticking to my head my neck had beads of sweat like a glistening necklace and my feet felt like they were on fire.  I flailed and kicked my legs until I had uncovered my body and it could breath again and I fussed aloud, “I’m ‘bout to burn to death, it’s too hot in this bed!” Although Papo was in the other bed, I often heard him giggle.

After I cooled off and went back to sleep, sometime before morning, Granny managed to pull those covers back over me.

End of an ERA

Going to their house was always a treat and something I never thought would end but my parents continued to thrive in other areas and my grandfather passed away one day shortly after he retired at the age of 62.   Afterwards my father felt compelled to take my grandmother with us to Virginia and share her  care giving between my dad and his older brother. She lived with us and alternated between us and my aunt and uncle in the late 60's and early 70's.