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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview H-0077, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Carrie Lee Gerringer was born in Greensboro, North Carolina, around 1909. She focuses primarily on what it was like to raise a family and work in the textile industry in Bynum, North Carolina. Gerringer recalls spending more time at household chores than at play during her childhood. She left school at the age of fourteen to begin working in the textile mills—an occupation she kept for more than fifty years—and married at the age of sixteen. She and her husband had six children, one of whom died from leukemia as a child. She discusses at length how it was often difficult for her family to make ends meet: she and her husband juggled shifts in the textile industry so that they would not have to hire extra help with the children, and her husband often took on extra work painting houses. Gerringer offers vivid portraits of working in textile plants.
Carrie Lee Gerringer describes what it was like to work in the textile mills in Bynum, North Carolina, from the 1920s into the post-World War II years. She discusses growing up in a working class family, focusing especially on balancing family and work. Married at sixteen, Gerringer worked in the textile mills throughout her adult life, struggling to make ends meet while raising six children.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
Where was your family originally from, Mrs. Gerringer?
Burlington. We moved here in September when I was seventeen years old.
So that was fifty-four years ago.
1923 or '4. Somewhere along in there. I was married in '25, I think.
What made your family move to Bynum?
Just because it was a better job here
Did your parents work in the mill?
Yes, my mother did. My mother and father parted when I was just little, and she married again, and her and her second husband went to work down here when we come here that September.
So she had married already before she moved here?
Yes, for the last time.
When you lived in Burlington, was she working in a mill there?
Yes, the Glen Raven, about halfway between Burlington and Elon College,
built a big cotton mill. I think the Gants owned it
How about your grandparents? Do you remember them at all?
Oh, yes, I remember them good. My grandmother, Mama's mother, died when I was fourteen years old, and my granddaddy lived to be ninety-eight. He died about thirty years ago, I guess.
Did your grandparents come from Burlington, also?
In a way. I was born in Greensboro, and they moved to Burlington when I was about ten years old. And from then on we stayed there till I moved here.
Where was your family originally from?
Well, I don't know. I think Mama said that my daddy come from Spencer, North Carolina, if you know where that's at. I don't. He's been dead for years and years. He was dead seven or eight years before I ever knowed he was dead.
Did you ever know your father?
Yes, because he came to see me when my last child was born. He would be about thirty-six if he'd lived. He's dead. He died when he was sixteen years old.
That's your son?
Yes. Of leukemia. And that's the last time I ever saw him [her father]. Mama was already married again when I seen him. She's been married to her last husband, I reckon, for forty-five years, maybe.
How old were you when your parents left each other?
Well, I've got two brothers. One was two years older than I am—he's dead—and our youngest brother is sixty-eight years old, or will be the twenty-fifth of September. And I was, I imagine, about three and a half or four years old when they parted. He was just a little boy about a year and a half old when they parted.
So you really didn't know your father when you were growing up?
No, I didn't.
You worked at Glen Raven?
Yes. I went there when I was fourteen years old. We worked five days and
a half, ten hours, and just made five dollars and a half a week.
What did you do with the money that you earned?
Mama would take it all but fifty cents.
She left you fifty cents?
Yes.
That was quite a lot, though, then.
Well, it amounted to right small. We felt like it wasn't right, but we didn't say nothing; we knowed better. You know children back then; they didn't argue with their parents like they do now.
What if you needed something, would your mother get you . . .
Oh, yes, she would get it for us if she could. But she had three young'uns to raise.
But we stayed with Grandma Hill and Granddaddy Hill till she died; she died when I was fourteen. And then Mama just left my granddaddy, and he went with another. . . . He had ten children, seven girls and three boys. And all of them's dead; ain't a one of them living.
These are all your mother's brothers and sisters.
They're every one dead. She was the youngest one living, and she was
ninety-two when she died. About that big around; I bet she didn't weigh
Did your father work in a mill?
I don't know what he done. He told us he worked on the railroad, a brakeman or something like that. That's all I know, just what he said.
How old were you when your mother remarried?
I think they married in June, and we moved here in September. I was seventeen, I reckon. Sixteen or seventeen, something like that. I think I was seventeen, though, because we moved here in September, and I was married in January.
How about your stepfather? Was he working in the mill, also?
Yes. He was in the Army just before they got married. You know, World War II[I?], I think it was. He was younger than my mother. I believe the paper said seventy-two—but I thought he was older than that—which I didn't know, and I don't think he did, because his grandma raised him, and I don't think she kept up with much. But he was a good stepdaddy. He was always good to us.
So they met in Burlington?
Yes.
How did they move to Bynum?
I don't even know. I don't know whether they was out of a job; it just seems like a dream. But we had some friends here, the Snyders. You know Ollie Stamper over yonder, Juanita Cooper that married Kenneth Cooper?
I've heard of them, I think.
They moved here first, and we knowed them before they moved
Were they also from Burlington?
Yes. They moved over yonder where Florence Cooper lives, and we boarded
with them till that house right up there got empty, and then we moved in
it.
Do you know whether your mother and your stepfather had jobs here already before they moved here?
I don't even know. They had a job when they moved, but when they come to see about the job I don't think they had none. But they give them one, and then we moved. Mr. Manly Durham was the bossman down there. He's dead.
So they both left jobs in Burlington to come to Bynum?
I told you I don't know whether they was out of a job or what, but I
think we visited, and some way or another. . . . Mrs. Snyder's oldest
boy—he's dead now—was the winding room boss down here, and I went to
work for him. And Mama went to work in the spinning room, and my
stepdaddy wrapping yarn out there in the yarn place. But that's about
all I
Did people do that a lot? Did they move around from place to place?
Oh, yes, always have. But they don't do it too bad here
Oh, a young fellow?
Well, he don't look too young
How do you feel about that, people moving into the village?
I don't care. I like friends. New ones sometimes are better than old. And sometimes old ones are the best; you don't know which.
So you went to work at fourteen. What were you doing in Glen Raven?
Spinning. I started off learning to spin. But when we come here, I went to winding.
How did you learn to spin? Did they give you the job first and teach you?
I reckon Mama got it for me. I don't even remember.
When you say you were supposed to weigh ninety pounds
To get a job. That had to go on your record.
Oh, really. So they let you work in spite of that.
Yes.
Oh, no.
That's right. To look at me now you wouldn't believe it, but it was so. There comes one of my daughters. I've got five.
You've got five children?
Six. Well, the one's dead. He lived to be sixteen years old. I had five girls and one boy.
Well, if you went to work at fourteen, that was really young. Did you have to leave school to do that?
Yes. But I was always good with books. I was pretty well on up there. I
was in the tenth grade. Didn't have but three little rooms, where I went
to school. And the principal was my teacher. And when the other teacher
was out, they'd put me
[INTERRUPTION: DAUGHTER IRENE ENTERS]
Well, I can't introduce you, because I don't know him, but this is my
daughter, Irene Perry. He's getting a history of our life.
No comment.
We were talking about when your mother went to work in Burlington.
The Glen Raven Mill, when I was fourteen. My husband went to work when he was eleven years old.
Was he from Bynum?
He was from Gibsonville.
How did you and your husband meet?
Well, he left up there and come down here. His brother was already here
working, and so he got him a job down here, and so he
What happened when you went to work? Did you go to school any more after you started working?
No. I was always good in my books, and I skipped a grade or two, and
How did your parents feel about that? Did they want you to go to school?
They didn't care. I think education wasn't as important as it is now. If it was, I didn't understand it or know about it.
How did you feel about it?
I didn't care. It didn't matter to me. I liked to go to school, but I
knowed there had to be a living made. I had that much sense, so it
didn't matter to me. I knowed I had enough to get by. There's an old
saying, "There's more educated people walking the streets than there is
ham(?) and
Really.
Now you can believe that or not. Them educated ones, they think they're too good to take just an ordinary job, you know, like I would do. And anybody that ain't got too much education has got sense enough to know he's going to have to take something.
Education doesn't always give you sense, does it?
No. I got all I need.
Okay.
How did you happen to go to work in the winding room when you came to Bynum?
Clayton Snyder was the bossman down there. That's Mrs. [unclear]
You worked as a winder all that time?
Yes.
Oh, you can. You used to could a-winding, but they'll stop off now about twice a day for them to go out and get them a sandwich or a drink out there. They have little old vending machine things out there.
What about the winding machines? Could you just leave them?
You could when they was the old winders, but after they put these new
ones in, you have to stop them
So the winding machines when you first started working . . .
Those old ones, down in that old basement down at the mill
[INTERRUPTION]
When did the new winding machines come in? Do you remember that?
I think it was about 1960 when they put them in, '59 or '60.
To go back to Burlington, do you remember anything in particular from your childhood? What sort of games did you play as a child?
I didn't play no games. My mama'd look at me, and I'd set down. Nor my
brothers either. We didn't play much.
Did they make you work in the home?
Oh, yes. I done most of the cooking. I'd stand in a chair and make up bread and cook.
How young were you when you started cooking?
Oh, about eight or nine years old.
You really started working early.
Oh, yes. Every one of us had our jobs to do. And me and them two boys
would stay at the house until we went to work. My oldest brother went to
work first. He was fourteen. And I went when I was fourteen, and the
next one went when he was fourteen.
Did you cook all of the meals for your family?
Oh, not all of them. I just helped and cooked. . . . See, they worked ten
hours a day, and they let them off an hour to come to dinner. I'd have
to have dinner on the table. And for supper, if there was anything left,
we used that, or fixed a little something else. Sometimes I'd do it, and
sometimes Mama would. She'd be mad if I didn't, though. And
Did your whole family get together for meals?
Yes. Just me and her and them two boys. That's all the family we had after Grandma Hill died. We was all living together then, which I had to do more then, in a way, than I did when we went out to ourself. Because Grandma was old, and she'd set around and tell me what to do.
Was she able to help with the chores?
Yes, she helped some when she was able. But they always had cows and hogs and chickens and all that to mess with.
Is this while you were living in Burlington?
Yes. Up there at Glen Raven. It's about two miles on the other side of
Burlington, about halfway between there and Elon College.
And you kept cows?
My granddaddy did. He kept anything that would make a living. He was one
of them sharp ones.
What did your granddaddy do?
He didn't do nothing. He worked out there in the dye room a long time till he retired. He raised everything we'd eat, just about.
Do you know what his father did?
No, I don't know nothing about that. I know he had a brother, but he's
dead, too. Grandfather used to tell his brother had twenty-two
Four sets of twins. My gosh.
They had to run away to get married. And he said, you know, there used to
be these old stiles in pastures? Said she was too little, she couldn't
get over it, so he just picked her up and throwed her over.
Do you remember any other stories
No, not many. He was an old banjo picker. He'd get him a drink, and he'd pick that banjo and go around where they'd have these here dances or something, old-timey barn dances and such as that. He played.
I'm really interested in that. Did he play with a bunch of people?
Yes. I think there was four or five of them, but I don't even know. It's been so long ago.
Was there anyone else in your family that was musical? Did anybody else in your family play an instrument?
No, only Mama's sister married a man. I don't know whether he was a music
teacher or what he was, but he had ten children, too, and every one of
them could sing, and he played the piano and the cornet, and one of the
boys played a guitar. They really had a time. I remember him trying to
make me learn, and if I'd had any sense I would have, but I didn't want
to set down that long. I'll set down.
Or they can look at me and I'll set down, whichever way you want to
look.
So your parents were pretty strict with you.
Yes, they always were. My husband was the only man I ever went with, and
I don't know whether she knowed it or not. I wouldn't say we had a date;
I'd just say we talked.
Was it a surprise to your parents when you told them you were going to get married?
No. I don't know. They might have, but she didn't say much about it. She signed for me to get married; she had to.
What did you do on your dates? What did people do around here?
We went to the neighbors' house. I walked over to the Snyders' a time or
two after we moved over here, and I'd meet him over there. But I
couldn't let him walk me home, because I knowed she'd find it out. And
now, by the time they're ten years old, they're trying to court.
How about your children? Were you strict with them?
Pretty much, but not that strict. I understood a lot of it. I don't know whether Mama did or not. They was brought up like that, you know, to be so strict with them.
How did you feel about the way that you . . .
Then I don't think I thought too much about it. But after I got married
myself and had children and they got grown, I figured if you could trust
them, maybe they'd do better or something. I wasn't as strict as Mama
was, noways. By the time they was old enough, they
The one up in Chapel Hill?
She ain't at Chapel Hill anymore. She's moved to Siler City.
Why were people so strict back then?
I'll be damned if I know. I ain't never understood it. And they didn't
never set down and talk with their children like they do now. Now me and
my girls, when we get together, we just have a good time, talking and
laughing, but I hardly remember Mama ever laughing.
Really?
With us. No.
What did you talk about when you were having meals together
Probably nothing. Not much. Yes, we had to be quiet, or you got up and left the table. You didn't get nothing else to eat, either, till the next meal.
What did you do if you had a problem or there was something that you wanted to talk about?
Kept it to yourself. I never asked Mama much, because I figured she
didn't know much more than I did. Not as much, I don't reckon, because I
don't think she. . . . Which Mama could read and write, and nobody
couldn't fool her, hardly, about math. She could squeeze a dollar till
it hollered like a ten-dollar bill.
You'd go to your stepfather?
Yes.
Was he as strict as your mother?
No, he wasn't strict. He didn't try to make us do nothing. He just told her that it was up to her; it was her young'uns. But he was always good to us. If we wanted anything or needed anything, if he had it he'd give it. I don't know what made Mama like that. Which I've thought about a lot. I didn't pay no attention to it, because I just thought it was a way of life. But now, I've thought about it lots. I don't know whether something happened that made her like that.
Did she treat you differently than other people? I mean, were other people this strict?
She was always ill
She was ill?
Pretty ill. And where she lived, there was people as close as these houses right here, and she didn't even know their names, and lived there fifty years or more.
Really? Up in Burlington?
Yes. I don't know what made my mother like that. If somebody'd go across her yard that lived in the next house, she'd say, "Who was that?" I'd say, "That's Mrs. Sykes."
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
But they never did say what was wrong. [unclear]
Intestinal blockage.
Yes, some kind of blockage, and they undone that, and she never did get over it.
How long was she sick?
Not long. I'd say four or five months.
Did she have any problem when you were a child?
No, not that I know of. She was always in pretty good health. She was little, but she was always in good health.
Did you have friends among the other children in Burlington?
Not much. No. We'd set around and read. The woman lived next door one time asked Mama, "Don't you get tired of these three young'uns setting here reading all the time?" She said, "Well, when they're setting there reading, I know where they're at." So that was her answer.
Did you read because you wanted to?
Oh, yes, I love reading. I read now all the time. Read everything I can get a-hold of. I say I reckon I was lucky to be seventy-one and could read and do my own work. I'm lucky. At least I think I am.
Oh, I love to read. One of my neighbors up there said it's a wonder I had
any eyes; that's all I done, is set and read. I thought, well, when I
was reading I wouldn't bother nobody. I might be stretching my eyes,
but. . . .
So you had three dates with your husband before you married. Is that unusual?
I reckon it could have been. I don't know. I didn't know to think about it then.
Why did you decide to get married?
I don't know, hardly. He went back to Gibsonville from here, and we went
up to my aunt's. My granddaddy was sick; that's where he died. And he
come out there. I'd just been with him once or tweice here. And he come
down there one Saturday. He said, "Don't go back to Bynum." I said,
"Well, I have to. I've got to work." He said, "Well, let's get married
that Saturday, and then you won't have to go back."
So you got married and you went up to Gibsonville, and did you stay out in Gibsonville?
Yes, I had two children while I was there. Stayed there about a year and a half, two years.
What did your husband do?
He was a doffer, a good one. He doffed in the cotton mill down here.
He was a good one?
Yes. He was the best one they ever had down there, I reckon. Said he was; I don't know.
What makes a good doffer?
Just being fast. You have to be fast with your hands.
You have to get the bobbins right . . .
Off and put an empty one on. And he could really that thing. Well, he started when he was eleven years old a-doffing, and he doffed all of his life.
How about his parents? Was his family all from Gibsonville?
Well, Whitsett, just a little bit out in I call it the country from Gibsonville. But I guess he always said he was from Gibsonville, so that's the way it was. That's where he worked, out there in a mill. Do you know Dr. Westmoreland over here? We used to live on his daddy's place. About forty-two or three years ago, we lived there about eight months.
Was that when you first came back to Bynum?
No. We come back here two or three times; we'd go back up there, and we'd come down here and go back up there. I couldn't tell you the different times.
Really? How come?
I don't know.
Would he get tired of where he was working?
I think he'd go back up there where his people is, and he'd get it in his
mind he wanted to go back, and we'd go back. And by the time we stayed
up there a month or two, we'd come back here and stay
How was he able to get a job?
If you're a good hand, you can get a job. Man, you can get a job anywhere.
You mean, he would just walk in and say, "Well, I'm back"?
Half the time, he'd just come down here visiting, and the bossman seen
him. He'd say, "You calling in Monday?" Bill said, "Yes, I'll be right
there."
Did you live with your relatives when you moved?
No, we moved back here in one of these houses. We've lived in every house
around here.
Really?
Yes. We lived in that house three times, right there. I lived there first
before I was married, and two times after that, and that one up there, I
lived in it two times, and the one they tore down, two or three times,
and that one over yonder on the corner, and that one that burnt down up
here, and the one up yonder where [unclear]
And how did that work? He would go in to the boss and say, "Well, I'm coming in. Do you have a place . . .
Half the time, he didn't ask; they just asked him. If they
So you were working, too?
Yes. I'd stay home long enough to have a young'un, and by the time he was six weeks old, I was back at work.
How did your husband feel about that?
He didn't care.
He wanted you to work?
He didn't care whether I worked or not. He said I could do as I wanted
to.
How did you arrange that with the mill?
They didn't care. They'd let us do any way, but good.
You just went down and said, "I want to work the second shift," and they said. . . .
Yes. They'd let you do whatever you could to get to work. But we was real lucky.
Was your husband a good housekeeper?
Yes, Lord, he was a better housekeeper than me. I didn't
Wow.
They all know what to do, I tell you that.
Did you want to work?
Oh, yes, I'd rather be at work than be at the house, anytime. But I've
thought about it lots of times, if I hadn't had no children, I wonder if
I'd have wanted to work. I've thought about it, you know. You know,
sometimes you can't understand what your reasoning was. But when they
was little and growing up, I'd rather be at the mill, somehow
Did people have a lot of children then?
Oh, yes, there was more children than you could shake a stick at then. Now there ain't many of them.
Did people just have children as a matter of course?
Yes. Nearly everybody around here had about as many as I did. There was a
few didn't ever have none, but they made out like they couldn't have
them, so, I don't know what their excuse was.
Was there birth control?
Not as I know of. I didn't know anything about it if there was. If I had, I probably would have used it myself. Not that I don't love my children, but just so many, and I think it's better to have one or two that you can keep going and do the best you can by them, than have so many. But we was lucky; they always had plenty to eat and things to wear.
Did other women in town or did your mother tell you about . . .
Children?
About children and how she carried them?
You had to just learn it on your own.
Just learn
Would people talk about that sort sort of thing?
Not much. I think they was about as dumb as I was, a whole lot of them.
When you were going to have a child, did you have it in your own home?
I had all six of mine at home.
Really?
Yes, sir. And like to died with every one of them. And now they've got to
go to the hospital and have everything. I never seen a doctor with nary
a one of them till I got ready to have them. And you know, now they've
got to go every week or two. That's the way my daughters was, you know.
I said, "Well, by golly, I never went with nary a one of them, and
you're still here and I'm still here."
You mean you only saw the doctor when you were having the baby?
Well, I'd see him about two or three weeks. . . . Well, I wouldn't see him; Pa, my husband, would go tell him that we
wanted him.
Really.
That I was looking, and he would say okay. Old Doctor Walker. Boy, he was
something.
I've heard that some of the women in Bynum used to come and help deliver the babies.
They'd call in a neighbor to be there with the doctor, you know. I've been at several here.
Did you have a woman come in to help you?
My husband and the doctor. That's all. When the baby'd be born, after it was born they'd wrap him up, you know. Then they'd go to the next house and give him to the neighbor, and she'd clean him up, fix him.
Really.
She
What did people do when they got sick? Did they call a doctor if they got sick?
Well, they had to be mighty sick if they did.
What would they do? Would they doctor themselves?
Yes. I'd doctor my young'uns. All I could. If I seen I couldn't get them
better, I'd finally get somebody
How did you learn to do that?
Well, I don't know. I reckon it just comes natural to women.
Did you use any home remedies?
Oh, yes, anything that would come along.
What sort of things?
One of my daughters, the third one, she had the measles and pneumonia, and the doctor checked her. He's dead now; he used to live at Pittsboro. He come over here several times. I lived up yonder at that corner where they tore that house down. And he said she wouldn't live through the night. But me and Mrs. Ida Smith and Louise Durham—she's dead now—got to putting. . . . They come and spent the night with me, and we set there all night long and put tar jackets with Vicks pneumonia salve and everything. We put it all on the little old jackets we had made with Vicks, and we just kept putting them on and putting them on and keeping her warm, and doggone if she didn't come out of there. She got to vomiting, and she'd vomit up things that long, just like it come out of a boil. But she got to getting better after she let them out. He said she wouldn't live through the night, but she's still here. She's forty-nine years old, be fifty in September.
I've heard of Ida Smith.
Yes, Lord, she was a good old woman. She knowed more about young'uns than
any doctor. She sure was good. If any of mine got really sick around
here, I'd get her, as long as she lived. Me and her and [unclear]
How come Ida Smith knew so much about it?
Lord, I don't know where she got it. She never did have but two children. I don't know how come. I never did see her oldest boy. He never did stay around here. Somebody said that they didn't come around much. I don't know what was the matter. But she was good with the young'uns. Where she'd learned it, I don't know.
How about the money that you and your husband made in the mill? Did you and your husband decide together how you were going to spend your money?
Yes. He generally let me do most of the paying bills and such as that. He didn't like to mess with it. He'd just take so much and give me the rest of his'n, and I'd take mine, and put it together and pay bills.
Were you able to save any money?
No. Not much. Once in a while we'd have a little bit. But we had all them
young'uns, and they'd get married and leave their husband and come back
with two or three young'uns. We had as high as thirteen here at one
time. It took everything we could break and scrape to feed them. And
they'd finally get married again and take them away, and the first thing
I know, here come another one with three or four.
Did you have a car?
No, we never have had a car. No, that's one thing we never put no money into.
How did you get around?
Well, we got there. When we got ready to go, the neighbors or my
children, their husbands had cars. My oldest daughter lives right over
yonder. They've got a truck and a car and . . . one of the expensive
trucks, you know.
You moved to Bynum in the 1920's. Was there electricity where you lived back then?
Yes, they had electricity up here. But I can remember when I didn't have it. When I was living at the Westmoreland place, we didn't have no electricity, and no water in the house. We had to tote it from up there at Mr. John's.
Were you working at the mill when you were living . . .
No, I wasn't working then. I was pregnant.
That's enough work
Yes, I was pregnant with my fourth girl.
Was your husband working in the mill then?
Yes, he was working at Gibsonville then. And he'd work for Mr. John. They farmed, and he'd help them out. Anything he could to make a living, especially when I was out and wasn't working, too.
Your husband?
Lord, yes, he'd work two jobs most of the time all his life. And then he
lived to be seventy-three. He sure could work. He
Where did he paint?
He painted every house around here.
Was he painting for the people that lived in the houses or . . .
No, for the company. Mr. John London's.
This is while he . . .
While he worked down here. And sometimes after he come down here, if he
hadn't went to work, he'd go to work for
In the mill, since he was such a good doffer, did people look up to him?
Oh, no, I don't think so.
I've heard of him, but I haven't met him.
He just loved Bill to death. He sent flowers when he died. I don't know
whether he went over there to the funeral home or not. I couldn't say
that. But after he died, I went over there to cash the check that I got
from the insurance. And they didn't want to do it, and I asked John
would he do it. And he said, heck, yes, he'd do it. So
He really took care of people in the mills.
Oh, yes, he loved everybody over here, it seemed like. Well, I reckon there was some of them, maybe, he didn't think as much of as the others, but he thought a lot of his hands, And everybody liked him, because he was good to his hands. John London was a good man.
What sort of things would he do for you?
Oh, anything if he thought you wanted it done. I don't know nothing that's special, but he was just good to the hands. He didn't push them or nothing. He was always friendly with them. A whole lot of bossmen or people that owned the mill don't even know their hands. But he did; he knowed everybody.
How many different mills have you worked in in your life?
I worked in four different mills.
Which of those mills was the best place to work?
Right down here. I'd rather work here than anywhere I was ever at.
Was it because of the way that John London treated you?
Yes, he was good to us. You know, a lot of places you work, they're
always after you or want to get more and get more and get more, but he
wasn't. And Mr. Arthur London, his daddy, he used to walk through the
mill and pat us all on the back. They're all just as good
Do you remember what it was like when you first came and went to work down in the mill here? How did people treat you when you first came?
Fine. They were really friendly. They always have been here.
How about in Burlington?
Well, they was friendly enough, but I don't know, I'd just rather work here than anywhere I ever worked. I worked in Gibsonville a few weeks. I said I'd worked at four mills; I worked in five. I worked at Siler City about eight weeks, and I couldn't stand that. The hardest job I ever had.
Really? Why?
I was a-winding down there, but they was old, way-back-yonder winders when I was down there. My youngest would have been thirty-eight if he'd lived, and he was old enough to go to school. It was about thirty-one or -two years ago. But that was an awful job.
How come?
I don't know. You know, winders use knotters to tie knots. And the last
hands they put in there, they'd put the sorriest knotters they had for
them. And half the time they wouldn't tie; you'd have to stop and do it
with your fingers, and you never could get nothing a-going. You know,
getting them ahead. I was on the third shift. And the first and second
shift had their own knotters. Down here, all three shifts used the same
knotters. Now I had one that I'd used for the last
You mean your knotter would be used by somebody else?
Yes. I was on the second shift. The one that was on first shift used it,
and I used it, and then the third shift used it. See, we all three used
the same knotter. That's the way it is
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
. . . were no jobs. You know that house up on that hill up there, the old Carter place it used to be?
On the hill on the other side of
Yes, on the right up there.
Up towards where all the Durhams live?
No. Way across the river yonder. That new house is built up there. We moved there, and it was an old house, and me and him, neither one didn't have a job, and all them six young'uns. And he said, "Well, here we are. We got plenty to eat." And we paid our rent for six months; it wasn't but five dollars a month then. And he said, "Well, we've got a place to stay and plenty to eat." I said, "Yes."
How did you have plenty to eat if you didn't have a job?
Well, you see, we just moved. We got our money out of the mills. See, we
had two weeks behind, so we got about three
Across the river?
Yes, up on the hill, the old house sitting up there.
Up towards where Mr. Hearn lives, up that way?
No, on your right. You know, this little cinder block house sits down there? Well, right up there is another house sits up there. We walked on up ther