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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-0314, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Christine Galliher was born in 1912 in Elizabethton, Tennessee. Christine met and married Dave Galliher (born 1908) in 1927. Though the Gallihers are interviewed together, the focus is on Christine's memories of life and work in Elizabethton. The same year she was married (at the age of 15), Christine Galliher went to work in the textile mills in Elizabethton, first as a winder in the Bermberg plant and later as an inspector in the Glanzstoff plant (later called North American). In 1929, Galliher was an organizer of and participant in a walk-out strike at the Glanzstoff plant when management refused to raise the workers' wages. Recalling her role in the strike, Galliher describes working conditions in the textile mills, the developing role of organized labor, and her participation in the Southern Summer School for women workers that summer. Both she and her husband were subsequently "blackballed" from the textile industry in Elizabethton. Her husband went to work with the city and in construction work during the 1930s; Christine, meanwhile, did not work again until 1935, remaining at home to care for her new child and struggling to make ends meet during the Great Depression. In 1935, she returned to the Glantzstoff textile plant, where she worked as a winder until 1946. The latter portion of the interview focuses on issues of balancing work and family, changes in working conditions and attitudes in the 1930s, and family history.
Christine Galliher describes life and work in Elizabethton, Tennessee, during the late 1920s through the 1940s. She also discusses their participation in the 1929 walk-out strike at the Bermberg and Glantzstoff textile mills; Christine's attendance of the Southern Summer School for women workers; life during the Great Depression; and balancing work and family.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
So he came here with the construction— Hughes and Folkwright
You came here from some other town?
Washington County. Abingdon, Virginia. There was a lot of people that worked there maybe a year or so before I went to work there. And I wasn't old enough to go to work, but I told them I was older.
You were supposed to be sixteen before you could start, weren't you?
Yes. The fence is still around it, I suppose. Everybody just at the gates
standing there, and the foremen would come out and hired the ones they
wanted to work. But then later on they had the personnel office, so
everything went through personnel. But at that time, at the very
beginning, they didn't have it. You just went down to the gate, and the
foremen would come out to the gate and look over the crowd
How did you make them think you were older than you were?
I just told them I was a year older than I was.
You were fifteen at the time?
Yes. But they didn't care. They could have looked at me and told that. If they had wanted to really know, they would have known better.
I guess you don't know Effie Parson, but she went to work down there one summer when she was fourteen, and she was telling us that she took high heels with her down there and put on high heels.
Looked a little older?
Yes.
I was a little old runt, and I didn't weigh more than a hundred pounds,
and anybody could have looked at me and told that I really didn't look
as old as whatever I was. You know, if you're built robust and big and
tall, you just sort of fudge a little better on your age when you're
young.
Where did you say you were born?
Here in Elizabethton.
What year were you born?
1912.
How come you went down there to get a job?
It was about the only thing there was around here to do at that time. And I just wanted to go and get a job; I don't know.
What did your parents do for a living?
My daddy did different things, but mostly he was a cook.
Where was he a cook?
This part of the country had no electricity at that time, as far out as
up here. This wasn't town then; this was farmland. But right in town,
just through Elk Avenue and Main Street and right in the heart of it,
they had electricity. He worked with the power company putting in lines
(rural electrification), and he was the cook for them. And then he
cooked at restaurants. I don't know how long the power crews would stay
out; I was little. They'd go out and stay and work
Did you have brothers and sisters?
I have two sisters. One lives in
Was she older than you?
No, she's younger than me. She kept a-digging away until she got herself
up till she . . . She worked in two or three different departments. She
was secretary and treasurer of the union for a good many years. She had
it a long, long time. Anyway, it looked to me like she'd
Were you the first of the kids to get a job?
Yes. My youngest sister never did work till she was out of high school, and then she worked at personnel. Hannah worked at Pennye's, too. I don't know how it come. I wasn't working down at the plant that time, but I did some store work myself about '45, after . . . You see, they just would not have us back down there after the strike. We never did get called back. But they called me. They needed people in 1935, so I went back to work down at the plant.
So you went down and just were out in front of the building, and the foremen came out.
The gates. You can take a look at the building. It has a big chain link fence all around the property, and there's big gates. Well, they opened those gates at shift time, but otherwise I suppose those gates were closed all the time, because they would be closed when people went down there for a job, and they came out to the gate and hired you. And we made $8.96 a week for fifty-six hours.
That's not much. What did you think of that when you first started working? Did you think that that was enough to get paid?
I don't suppose we knew any better. I don't recall.
How long had you been working there before the strike happened?
The first time I had a job there, I worked in winding. And then I had a bad leg and I was off from work with that, but when I went back down they hired me for North American, what they called Glanzstoff. The first time I went to work, though, I was fifteen.
1927?
As well as I can remember, I went to work on my birthday.
Which would be what day?
The second day of May. I don't remember when I went to North American to work. (They later changed it, during the War, to North American.) The wages were poor, but I guess maybe for this part of the country, and having been used to working, that we just did it.
So you were at the Glanzstoff plant.
I worked at both plants. At first I went to work at Bemberg, and I worked
there maybe a year. But then I had a leg problem, and I was off a long
time. But when I went back, see, I was sent down to North American to
work. That's where I worked when we asked for the raise from $10.08 to
$11.20, and we just quit work. And we'd never heard tell of a union! You
see, we didn't know how big it was going to grow. It grew and grew and
grew, and other departments came out. I was in inspection. And then
Bemberg came out; both plants came out. There was five thousand people
out. And we had asked for an $11.20 raise!
Did you know Margaret Bowen?
Yes, she was the secretary of the union at that time. I don't remember where she worked.
Wasn't she in inspection?
I believe she was.
Tell me what led up to all the women in the inspection department walking out. Who said, "Let's go ask for a raise"?
I don't remember, but we all decided in that department if they didn't give us a raise, we wasn't going to work.
Were these all girls?
Yes, except a few I guess you'd call them indirect boys. They made the yarn back and forth. They'd bring it to you, and then they'd take it up, and then they'd weigh it and all that.
How did you all get together to decide that you were going to walk out if they didn't give you a raise? Did you meet after work?
No, just talked about it among us. And we didn't even know what a union was. We'd never heard tell of a union. But we just decided that we wasn't going to work for this wage. But as it happened, there was a carpenter and a union man, John Penix. He called someone that he knew in the labor movement, and they came here and organized, and it was just one big mess, and they just panicked.
Why did everybody else quit just because you all had quit?
They were getting the same wages, and I imagine that they decided that if
we were going to quit, they'd quit, too.
Were you making the same wages at Glanzstoff that you were at Bemberg?
Yes, at that time they paid a flat scale. You started out at $8.96 a week; $10.08; $11.20. I don't know whether you got past $11.20 or not.
Did the women make as much as the men?
I don't know. There wasn't many men in there, and I've never
Twelve, I believe.
But really, outside of Lawrence, I never did hear any man say how much they made, but I don't think they paid them more. If they did, they didn't pay them much more.
Were you one of the ones that went in and asked the managers to give you a raise? Did you send in a representative?
I don't remember that detail.
The supervisors over you were German.
No, they were American, most of the people from up close by, the close
counties. A lot of people worked there from Johnson City and way back up
in Pogey
No. Where's that?
I don't know, but I think it's the end of the world.
But I mean the bosses were German.
No. The superintendent was at that particular time. He lived down on B Place. Shubert. No, I believe Shubert was a little step higher than a superintendent. Stanley Lacey was superintendent
Did you have anything else that was the cause of you walking out? Was it just wages, or was there anything else that you were unhappy about?
Just wages. We decided we wasn't going to work for that.
What gave you such gumption?
We didn't know a thing about a union. We just decided well, we just wasn't going to work for $10.08 a week.
Were you unhappy about the hours?
Fifty-six hours, they didn't seem to pay any attention to it. People had never been nowhere, and they'd never done anything. Maybe go to a movie on Saturday night. So I don't guess the hours made that much difference. I don't remember, except I know you'd get awfully tired.
What about the rules? Bessie Edens was a section girl and then she was a forelady, and she was telling that you'd have to get a ticket from her to go to the washroom, and you could only stay for five minutes.
I think maybe she was there before I went there, or it was a different section.
Did you have any rules like that about breaks?
I went to the washroom when I wanted to. I went by my own rules, if you needed to go to the washroom. Oh, you worked so hard, you didn't fudge on them any.
Could you take a break or rest?
No, they didn't take any breaks. They were just supposed to go to the washroom and back.
So out you walked.
Yes.
Did all of you walk out, the whole inspection room, every single
Yes, as far as I remember, they all just . . . I don't remember who did the talking. You see, they selected the one to do the talking, and they passed the word around they was going to ask for a raise. Said, "If they don't give us that raise, we'll just quit work." And that was it.
What was the signal to quit?
I guess that they just said, "Come on, let's go."
What happened then when you walked out?
It just got in a bigger and a bigger and a bigger mess. Other people kept joining us, first from North American and then Bemberg, because everybody wanted a raise anyway, until that John Penix got in touch with somebody in labor, and an organizer came here and organized. We were arrested twice, on those picket lines. It was over here on the old State Line Road. They brought out the National Guard.
In the meantime, my daddy cooked down there at the plant during that time. Some of them stayed in there, I reckon, to take care of the machinery and things that had to be looked after, and he cooked for them.
What did he think about you being out on a picket line?
He never did say. He never did have anything much to say. But the men
It's been so long, I've forgot all about everything. Only I do know where that old tabernacle . . . It was close by where they built that new jail.
It's right about where the new jail's been built now, or maybe a little bit over closer to the mountains.
But it was a huge building. There wasn't another building big enough to hold that many people marching, and they would march, march from the plants to town. They'd maybe meet down at the plant, and they'd all march. They didn't do anything rough. If there was any dirty work done, I didn't know anything about it. They probably did that at nights.
Did you say that it was mostly men that were on the picket lines, or did a lot of women join the picket lines?
Women and men, but I imagine . . . I didn't go out too much on the picket line, because where I put my work in was at the office, people joining the union.
You worked at the union office.
Yes. The funniest thing, I was upstairs the other day, and I ran across
your [Dave's] old union book, and I'd signed it.
Is that how you all met?
No, we'd met before that. We were married by that time, I think. We were
married just a little before I was sixteen, and he was nineteen. But I'd
forgotten about that. It was before he'd joined the union, and I'd
signed it. Now all the departments that I worked in, there was very few
men. Of course, they had to have a few mechanics, and the indirect men
that would transport. They would bring the material to you
Did you think that things were better after the strike?
It couldn't have got any worse. Except for the people that they wouldn't take back. Now it was really rough on people that they wouldn't take back, and there was a lot of them they wouldn't take back.
How did you get involved?
I come off at eleven o'clock, and they come out on the strike the next morning, so I never did go back down there any more when they were . . . And they had me blackballed whenever I went back to work. They blackballed me and said I tore up the machinery. So I come out at eleven o'clock. I didn't know nothing about the strike until I come out. The next morning I didn't go back to work.
They thought that you were one of the people that went in and . . .
There was another guy that lived on up the road here
Mistaken identity.
They told me that I'd just as well forget about there was a plant down there.
Did they tell you that to your face?
Yes. They said, "You can just as well forget about it." So I never did go back no more then.
Did they tell you the reason, that they thought you were . . .
Yes, they said that they had me blackballed, tearing up machines. I said,
"You're mistaken about that. I didn't tear up anything."
But Dave, I believe that that was a little after, though, the one that I was in.
Well, it was.
They had one, it must have been in '28.
There were two different strikes.
There was two. But it was '29.
It was the second one that you were in.
Yes. So I never did go back no more. I went to work here with the city.
Oh, he worked anything. He didn't like to work down there. I guess some men can handle that yarn, but it's awfully tedious work, and he didn't like the work no way down there.
Did they blackball you, too?
I don't know. They didn't ever say, but the agreement was they was supposed to take everybody back. And it was in '35 when they called me back. I'd been out six years, I guess. I hadn't worked in six years.
Had you gone down there and applied?
Oh, yes.
And they just said that they didn't . . .
They just wasn't hiring anyone. But they was supposed to have took everybody back.
How did you feel about not being able to get your job back?
I didn't give it much thought, just like I didn't give it much thought when I went down there and applied for a job.
You didn't really have to work.
We just didn't think too much about it. No, I just went down
But you were able to stay home for six years and live just on one salary?
You see, that ran on into the Depression years. No, neither one of us had a job. You just made out from hand to mouth.
How did you get by?
I don't know how people survived. I suppose it's just your spirit or something, because I don't believe young people today could survive. We're just survivors, I guess. It boils down to that.
Did you have a garden and raise your own food?
Yes, and he picked blackberries. I'd can a lot. If he'd get an odd job or anything, that went for . . . You'd buy . . .
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[Beginning of tape inaudible]
You worked some at the chair factory.
Yes.
It went broke. You see, everything just folded up.
Did you have any help from your family?
No, very little. There for maybe two years, we lived in a house that
belonged to my daddy. Now that way, we didn't have to pay any house
Did you have any kids?
We had one, a girl. She lives in Jefferson City now. She's lived all
over, moving around place to place. She can remember that. You had the
lamps with
What doesn't he like about it?
It's just hard on him. Working on machinery is very hard. It's hard on your nerves, that is, some people's. Some people it don't seem to bother. It's nerve-wracking.
He said he's putting out 8,000 engines
He
What did you do when you went back to work the second time?
I went back to work at Bemberg in winding.
Was that nerve-wracking work?
Yes. It's the pressure. You have to meet that quota you're supposed to
get, and you just fight like fire to get it out
Were you being paid by the piece?
It wasn't paid by the piece. You got paid so much for the forty hours, but to meet that production you'd have to put out a lot. But then when you'd get so you could make production, then they'd speed the machines up, and you'd have to work harder to come up with that requirement. And I think maybe they do it at all factories.
In about '36 they sent the CIO and the AF of L here, so they had a union.
They have AF of L now, don't they?
Yes.
They had the CIO here
Was the union able to do anything about how high the quotas were, speeding up the machines?
By that time, you had representatives in each department. The representatives then would take it up with somebody up on the line, if they thought it was unfair. A production line is not an easy job.
Was your union representative here the shop steward?
Yes. After so many years, but not at first.
When you had grievances, was the shop steward able to get those grievances . . .
Yes, they usually worked them out.
Did you ever have anything you complained about?
No, unless they just put more on you to do than was . . . You know, something like that. Like if they speed up the machines and put more on you to do, why, everybody can make their complaint to the representative of that department, and then they'd have shop stewards, and they'd take it up with [someone] higher up on the ladder.
How long did you keep working there?
I worked until '46, I believe.
What was the atmosphere like in the plant then, when you were working there? Was there anything that you liked about the work or didn't like about it?
It was just a humming noise so loud that you couldn't talk and if you
wanted anybody to hear you, you would have to holler. But there wasn't
no danger of people talking much, because it was too noisy
Did you have any time for socializing at the plant?
No.
How about lunchtime?
Well, yes, lunch. They had a nice cafeteria in latter years. Back in the early years when the plant first opened up, you had to take your lunch, and there wasn't anyplace to buy anything.
Somebody was telling me that in her department they had a birthday club for everybody in the department, and they would have parties.
That must have been the office force, too. I never heard tell of it. It was a different department, or the office force.
Did the office force have a lot more freedom?
No, I think they worked pretty hard, too.
I think they'd go on top of the building to have their parties.
That was the main ones, the top Germans that were down there.
They had that club.
Oh, yes, they had the Franklin Club there, but they didn't have that club, though, right at the beginning.
They
They had parties up there?
He worked there at that time.
And you'd see the beer cans and bottles and everything,
But that would be the top officials. Nobody that worked on the production line would have been up there.
Was the Franklin Club just for the top officials
When I worked there the last time, you could buy season tickets to the
pool at the Franklin Club, and it was open to the public for parties and
things. I used to buy season tickets to swim down at the Franklin Club.
But outside of that, I don't know of any
Were your best friends people that worked down there, or people that were your neighbors?
I don't know.
You didn't run around with people very much that you worked with, after work?
No. When you worked ten hours a day and fifty-six hours a week, you
didn't do any running around; you rested. You might go someplace on
Saturday, and that was it. Of course, when you'd go to church you'd be
with the people that you'd always been to church with, and
But I always went to the washroom when I got ready. I didn't loaf on the job, but I never had to ask. It might have been that way, though, in some departments. Each department was different. They did different things different jobs. And it could be that maybe some of them was loafers, was the reason they'd give them an excuse to go to the washroom.
How did you happen to go to the Southern Summer School?
I believe it was during that strike. I worked for the union, and I met a
lot of people—I couldn't tell you their names now—a lot of organizers, a
lot of people that was connected with labor. And this
How did you know him? He lived around here?
No, he might have come here on business. I just don't recall when I met that man, but he was a real old man, and he was interested in the labor movement. He had something to do with the Pressmen's Home in Nashville, Tennessee. He might have been on the board of directors or something. I suppose different people that was interested in the labor movement put up fellowships for each person that went. There were girls there from North Carolina, Maryland, Virginia, Florida, and Tennessee, I believe.
Do you know what summer it was that you went?
It must have been '29. You can tell it from my birthday. I think I was seventeen.
You all were married at that time.
Yes.
Did you mind her going off for the summer?
No.
He went over to Marion, North Carolina, They had a big strike on over
there.
Did you know Sam Finley?
No.
I know Hester.
She was at the Summer School.
Yes. I know Hester.
They're real good people.
Yes, I liked her. There was another one up there from Marion. Is Hester still living?
Yes. She seems to be in pretty good health.
And there was another one from up there at Marion.
There was a woman named Lily Morris Price
Rosa Holland.
Have you ever heard from Rosa Holland since then?
I believe it was Rosa that I wrote and kept up for a while. I don't
believe I ever had any correspondence with
What was the Summer School like?
It was nice. They had public speaking, and English, I suppose. Boy, that
really
What did you think about the teachers?
I liked them.
Were they trying to teach you how to be better union members?
Just to stand up for yourself and what you felt was right. Yes, that'd be right, better union members, and to maybe take a little more part in the union.
How did they encourage you to stand up for yourself?
Just say, "Well, now, you're all equal, regardless of whether it's an
employer or an employee." Now I do remember that. And if you want
something, ask for it. They tried to teach you how to go about it,
asking for it and not be timid, especially with somebody that would be
the boss or so-and-so above you. And you know, I had one foreman. I
won't call his name; he's still living. He lives here in town
Oh, I know exactly what you mean. You'd just look right back.
He never said a word, and I wouldn't say a word. And if my yarn was bad and I couldn't get off my production and it wasn't my fault, I'd tell him about it. He'd make an adjustment on it. But he was just the type of person that he had that look about him that would scare most people, intimidate them. There are some people like that; they may not intend to be that way.
I seen him down here a week or so ago.
But he's had a rough time. He really built himself up down there. He was
on
Do you think that that experience, of being in the strike and going to the Summer School, made you less intimidated?
Yes, it matured you enough to stand pat for your rights or what you thought was right, and then we had channels to go through to get it. At the starting of it, we didn't have any channels, only just to go down and quit. And everybody started to quit. Well, boy, that was really a mess. I don't know what would have happened if that John Penix hadn't called in a labor organizer.
But he was a carpenter, and they had a labor . . . I don't remember what
they called it. Anyway, I've been there
Central Labor Union?
Yes, different trades would get together, and I've been up there. But I'll tell you, I never could get accomplished in public speaking.
Did you make any speeches?
Oh, I tried to, but
Where did you . . .
In the union meetings. I never did get that. But English and oh, yes, economics; you asked about the courses. Economics, English, and public speaking.
During the '29 strike you made some speeches?
That's what they taught.
At the Summer School.
Yes.
Did you ever think about going back to the Summer School another summer?
No, I never did give it any thought.
Back to the strike. Somebody told me that before the big strike of '29 when you all in the inspection room walked out and then everybody else followed, that there'd been a bunch of little walkouts, where people would then go right back.
I don't know. The only thing I remember, there was two strikes, and I believe one of them must have been in '28 and one in '29.
Mr. Galliher, what did you do over in Marion that summer?
Oh, I just laid around over there with that bunch who was out on strike.
You were just helping them?
Yes.
How come you happened to go over there?
They wanted a bunch of us to go over there, so I just loaded up and went on with them.
I think it just sounds funny, their loading up and going on with them.
The reason I asked if you knew Sam Finley was because he told me that he got in a car with somebody named Roy Price, and they came over to Elizabethton to get some people to come over and help them organize American.
Yes, he went over there. And then more or less, I guess, these fellows up. I don't know about that.
And he is Hester Finley's husband.
Was the strike in Marion a lot like the one in Elizabethton?
It was a textile mill, wasn't it?
Yes.
That one ended up with all those people getting killed. Were you around there then?
There was a lot of them got killed while I was down there.
There was a good bit of violence during the strike here. I don't think anybody got killed.
I don't think so.
Mac Elliott's house was blown up. Do you remember that?
No, I don't remember that.
I do.
Was that up 23?
Yes.
Oh, yes, and somebody shot Dr. Wood.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
They always accused John Penix of shooting him.
He'd been shot through that strike some way or another, and accused John Penix of doing it. He was against the union.
There was a lot of people that was against the union, doctors, stuff like that. But Sheriff Moreland was always fair to the union, wasn't he?
Yes, he was.
But, on the other hand, I don't know how come the National Guard would be called out. I had forgot about that violence.
They brought us in without force.
We were out on picket duty. We walked off and left them.
In front of the jail, we just walked off and left them. They didn't take us in; they just brought us down there.
The captain of the Guard was a man we knew, Bob Johnson. He had his car
full, and he drove us down to the jail. And he did it purpose. He got
out of the car and went inside, and we just got out and left.
Whenever he come down there, he said, "Now go get out
He just got out and went in the jail, and there we were, sitting in the car. We just got out and left.
Had you been up at Valley Forge blocking the roads?
Yes, we went there.
I don't think the road was blocked, was it? It seems like there was a bus involved in that, Dave.
Somebody shot through a bus a time or two up there.
But you see, the people who lived up in there, such little bit of money that they made was all clear, because they were all farm people, and they had their own living. And people that lived right here in town, you see, if they came in here—which it did bring a lot of people in here that stayed here over the years—they had to pay board or rent and set up housekeeping and live off of that. But, you see, the people that lived out on the farms didn't have to work.
So were they more likely to be strikers than the people who were in Elizabethton?
I don't know, really. It's been so long, I couldn't tell you the straight of it. It might just give you an outline of what you want to know.
Was there some sense that the people along Stony Creek were real
sympathetic toward the strike, and the people on Roan
No, I don't think so, because people had worked at the plants from all over. I don't think there would be anything like that in different areas of the county, because most of them, regardless of where they lived in Carter County, they worked at the plant. But the people in town didn't have only that paycheck to live on, where the people that lived out in the country had their living; they made their living at home on the farm.
In the inspection room, where you were working before the strike, were they mostly real young girls working there?
Yes, mostly young people.
Were they boarding in town?
A lot of them did. A lot of people kept boarders. But I don't know how it was. I never did live in a boarding house, but I think maybe they just doubled up and crowded up and lived in those boarding houses. There's not any boarding houses that I know of anymore.
I wondered if the girls who worked there had gotten to be good friends by all living together in the same boarding house.
They might have. I wouldn't know.
Where were you and Dave living at the time?
We lived down on Main Street. Urban renewal tore that house down. But my
sister lives down there at 411 South Main, and my mother still lives
there. We lived down there on South Main Street at that time, but we
didn't have to pay any rent. I just don't know how we could have been
survivors if we hadn't had a shelter, but we had a shelter. And then
that was tough, to provide the necessities. It was really tough. No, I
just don't see how young people could be survivors nowadays, not unless
they'd just go out and camp. And that's about the way we lived
Were some of the workers really strong in favor of the strike, and some of them really against it?
I guess you'll always find a certain number of people that would be
against things. Oh, yes. Now you mentioned violence. I suppose what
caused that violence was that they brought strike-breakers in here— I
don't remember where they came from—who would work at the plant.
How come you quit in 1946?
I had just had this boy, and a boy is different from a girl, and he's so demanding.
Who had been taking care of him while you worked, right after he was born?
His sister took care of him in the summertime. And my mother, my grandmother. But he was so demanding. In the summertime, though, she [daughter] looked after him; she was so much older than he was. And when she was little, I'd pick her up at school when I'd get off. By that time, we got off at three o'clock. And they did start a shift that you'd come off at two o'clock. But I would pick her up at three, and we'd go to the movies. Of course, I'd be beat to death from beating on them machines. And that way, I'd get rested.
You'd rest at the movie?
Yes, and she'd enjoy the movies and getting to go somewhere with me. And then we'd stop at the store and get our food and come on home and cook it.
That sounds nice.
Yes, it come out real well with her. But now him, I couldn't have done that. He's just so much different from her.
When was she born?
She was born in 1930.
You had a pretty small family. Well, your mother only had three kids, didn't she?
There's three of us.
Had you decided just to have two kids?
Yes. Well, there was a premature [baby who died] before David was born.
[Interruption]
Tell me a little bit about your mother. What is she like?
She's just a scrapper and a worker.
What do you mean, "a scrapper"?
Well, the neighbors laugh and say things, which is really true, you know,
but they get a kick out of it. One gentleman that lived down there said,
"Well, you could turn Cozette loose on top of Lynn Mountain with a pan
and chickens, and she'd make a living."
Maybe that's where you got your ability to survive.
Well, I don't know. I know we had a tough time surviving.
When you were growing up, did you have a hard time?
No, my daddy always had a job. My mother always stayed at home, but she
worked. She did all that canning, had a garden. Anything
Is she still in good health and living by herself?
No. She's in good health considering her age, but a lot of things she doesn't know what you're talking about. She's just getting feeble.
Did she take in boarders or do anything like that?
No. Well, one girl which was a distant relative came from Shell Creek down here after she got out of high school, and she stayed with Mama. But her parents wouldn't have turned her loose in town without an older person over her, and Kathleen stayed there several years, didn't she?
I think she stayed there two or three years.
Outside of that, I don't remember anybody else that she kept as a boarder. And that was back when money was scarce, and a girl was lucky to get any kind of a job. Why, she just worked at the ten-cent store, didn't she?
I think it was.
Our daughter worked at the ten-cent store when she was in high school. She worked Wednesday afternoon and all day Saturday, about ten or twelve hours, and she got five dollars for it. She laughs about that yet. You know, she's inclined to be like us; they have plenty, but she's not wasteful. Her husband's like that, too. You can't be a spendthrift and accumulate.
Did your mother have any feelings about you being involved in the strike and the union?
If she did, I didn't know it.
You were living away from home by then.
Oh, yes. I think maybe she was quite worried, though, when, I believe it was during the forties, that Bemberg started sinking down there. Huge holes would just wash out from under it. They kept trucks going day and night hauling cement and gravel, filling up those holes. And you know, I didn't give it a thought, and I'd go on down there and put my shift of work in. I didn't give it a thought that I was in any danger, but it could very easily, just the whole thing, went right down in the ground. How long did it take them to fill that up?
I don't know. They was there for . . .
It must have been a honeycomb back under that land, because there's a river at the back of it.
They hauled cement in all those holes for days and days.
Day and night, cement and rock to fill up that.
I guess they finally got it filled up.
Yes, but since it's been abandoned, if anything was to happen to it nobody'd know it. I mean they wouldn't be able to fix it up. But it really cost that company something to do that. It was just such huge amounts of it that went in there, and that rock and gravel and cement's expensive.
How did you happen to get a job with construction, building the plant? What were you doing before that?
I just went down there, and they wanted to know if I wanted a job, and I
told them yes, at public work.
Well, his brother was the foreman, I think.
In the Bemberg he was a foreman, but on the construction he wasn't.
No, he wasn't with construction.
What construction company was that?
That was Hughes and Folkro
It may be folded up by now. That company may be nonexistent.
What did people think when they first started building these plants and when the plants came in? Were people real happy to have the plants built?
I think they just took it as a matter of course. People in this part of
the county back at that time had always just took things as they come,
as a matter of course. It was just a way of life. I don't guess they
thought it would change their life much.
But once they got in, they weren't very dissatisfied.
No, I never did hear anyone say that they were dissatisfied with the plants being here, did you, Dave?
No.
But I think it was a bad thing, though, when the War broke out and the government took the plants over. It never did do as well after that. I guess it was mismanagement; I don't know.
What changed?
The Bemberg and the Glanzstoff plant was German-owned. They brought their own German people over here to supervise it, and [they] stayed on. Then when the Second World War came up the government took it over, because it was owned by the Germans. I don't know why, unless they was afraid that there might be something manufactured down there that would be toward the War effort. But anyway the government took it over and they run it, but it went from bad to worse.
Now I tell you, German people are smart. I'm a descendant of Germans.
What do you know about your ancestors?
My grandfather was a very silent type of person. He never talked much,
but one thing he always did, if you didn't have but very little
Did your daddy play any instruments?
No.
She didn't learn it from her parents? Did they play?
No. She just learned it herself, and she made her first banjo out of a cigar box. And I believe she told me she was about twelve years old when she did that.
Amazing. Do you remember the songs that she used to play?
No, I can't remember. I could play all those songs myself on the organ. We had an organ. Those songs were ballads, and I'd just love to have them now, because I have forgotten them. It's just amazing, and people entertained theirself.
Was there any music during the strike? Did people sing songs and play music?
I think maybe our best slogan was that "United we stand. Divided we
fall."
That's a good one.
Yes. And I don't remember any music. Do you, Dave?
No.
They had a bunch of films that were made by the company at the time
Yes, I was in some of those that was made, but I don't remember who made them, whether it was the union or not.
But they showed a band marching in front of the parades.
They might have had it; I just don't remember. I have some old pictures here that go way back to then, but I guess I'd have to tear the house down to find them.
You don't remember anybody that at the rallies would play music or any songs that people would sing?
No. We'd just have a meeting over there at that building that they called the tabernacle. It was a crude building; the seats were just planks nailed together. But it would hold a huge crowd, and I'll tell you, it was always full. And I don't remember any music or anything that they had, do you, Dave?
I don't think they had any music over there. They might have had sometime when we weren't there.
Fifty years is an awful long time to remember.
Was there any feeling at the time that it was sort of unusual for all these girls to be out on the picket line and taking such an active role in things?
No.
That they should stay at home?
Not that I know of. It was just their right, and they wanted a raise, and
that was what they were after.
There wasn't near as many of the women as there was the men. Of course, there was several women, but still there was . . .
Well, now, I'll tell you, Dave, all those textile departments were women, most of them.
I know they was, but the places I was at, there wasn't no women at all.
Well, you went places that we didn't go.
You mean during the strike?
Yes.
You went places that we didn't go. They had big dark secrets, I think, the men did.
And you didn't even know what he was doing?
No.
Did you ask?
No. It didn't dawn on me to ask. You know, you just go on about your business.
How did you know that secret things were going on?
At the union office I'd hear some of them whispering around a little bit once in a while, "We went so-and-so last night."
I didn't really know that much about it, only just I caught on, catching on to it.
So since 1946 you haven't worked anyplace?
No.
You raised your kids and took care of your house.
Yes.
Did you like that better than you did trying to work and take care of the kids?
Yes, I did, because it's too much to work and raise children, and it's
hard on the children, too. But I've been with David most of the
Oh, you stayed out for five years?
Yes.
You went back in '35?
Yes, she was five years old.
When you were working, did you do all the housework and the cooking, or did you share it?
Of course, he always helped. He'd help to do what needed to be done. But
it was rough going. And Paula was always such a good little girl. When I
went back to work and her five years old, I was so surprised. The first
shift I worked three to eleven. I came in that night, and she'd washed
her panties, her hair ribbon—she had long curls— and her socks and hung
them on the back of a chair. She was very inventive at five years old.
Do you feel like you took after your mother or your father more?
I don't know. That'd be hard for me to say. Sometimes I think I've took
after him, because sometimes I'm so silent and quiet, and I can remember
him as being a quiet man. And my grandpa was a quiet man. They didn't
have much to say. Sometimes I get carried away and I talk too
[END OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE B]
What kind of a judge is he, Dave? He's Circuit Court? Hill.
On the Circuit Court.
His mother is somebody you used to work with?
I used to work with his mother, Nell Hill, winding at Bemberg.
In '29 or in '35?
I suppose it was in '35.
This Lawrence Range?
Lawrence Range and his wife, Selma.
Were they working there in '29?
Yes, they worked there real early. I think Selma was working there about '27, anyway.
Where do they live at now?
I don't know where Lawrence lives. I get the impression they live out in the country somewhere.
You see them at church, did you say?
Yes.
What church do you go to?
The First Christian Church.
Would they be in the phone directory?
Yes. Let's look it up and see.
Were either one of them involved in the strike?
I don't know whether they were or not, do you, Dave?
I don't know.
They might have worked right along through it.
There was so many that you couldn't . . .
You know, it was 5,000 people out down there at one time.
It's hard to keep up with that many.
And when you work with different people from year to year, you just don't remember. You look. Sometimes I can do better than others. My eyesight's bad.
After I left from down there, I stayed with the city thirty-nine years.
What did you do with the city?
Drive a truck.
Did they blackball people so that people couldn't even get any kind of other jobs in the area, and they had to leave altogether?
Just where you was working there at the plant.
"Lawrence Range, 513 Broad Street." Here's another one, "Rural Route 4."
That's where he lives. At Broad Street is his place of business.
What does he do?
Real estate. Lawrence is in bad health. I wonder if he's got a boy that's running that now. I went to school with Lawrence.
That's his boy who has got that real estate business down on Broad Street.
I have an idea that Lawrence is retired and doesn't do anything, because his health is not too good. I worked with Judge Hill's mother, Nell. She's a mighty fine person.
Do these two names ring a bell, Jackie Rose and Dorothy Stone?
No.
I saw their names in these old issues of the newspaper, that they were in the union. They worked in the reeling department.
No.
Did you know anything about Margaret Bowen, where she was from?
I believe she was from Sweetwater, Tennessee.
What was she doing here, working in the plant?
She just came up here and got her a job, I suppose.
Was she one of the spokesmen, one of the people that did a lot of talking?
No, she was the first secretary that they had.
What about Lucille Ratcliffe?
No.
Evelyn Heaton. She got run over during the strike. Do you remember that?
I don't remember it, but I knew Evelyn Heaton. You remember Evelyn Heaton, Dave? That's the girl that your brother dated.
She worked in the plant?
Yes. Where was that girl from, up about Butler, up in the mountains?
I really don't know, Christine. I think she was.
I wouldn't even know what her married name would be.
How about somebody that they called "Texas Bill", a girl?
Who was "Texas Bill"?
I don't know, Christine. They called her "Texas Bill." Now she come in here from somewhere else; I don't know. She wore clothes just like a cowboy all the time.
Did she come here during the strike?
Yes.
Was she one of the ringleaders?
Yes.
Maybe she was an organizer.
I don't know what she was. She just like a cowboy.
I thought when she said "Texas Bill" that she was probably talking about Bill Donnelly.
No.
That was a woman that acted like a man, sort of rough, mannish ways about her.
Was she somebody that was involved in the strike?
No, I don't think so. There was a lot of nice people worked down there, and there was a lot of rough people worked down there. I suppose you'll find that anywhere you go.
In '28 and '29 when you were first working down there, were the people kind of divided into the nicer people and the rougher people then, or did they get rougher in later years or the other way around?
I suppose it was just about equalled up, because you'll always run into
some people like that. See, that's what my son can't take about working
in a factory. Oh! He just go on. I say, "I know, David, I know. I've
worked with all kinds." And "Oh, you don't know what they do."
John Penix is not alive, is he?
Oh, no, he was an old man then. Anyway, he got the credit for shooting Dr. Wood.
Were you raised in the First Christian Church?
Yes.
How far did you go in school?
The first year of high school.
When you decided to quit school and go to work, did your mother or father want you to keep on going to school?
They didn't say anything.
They don't sound like they were very strict parents, or were they?
Yes, you didn't go anyplace. It'd be hard for somebody your age to understand that. Everybody stayed at home. They had work to do. There was little jobs that kept everybody busy.
Did you have chores to do when you were a kid?
Yes.
What did you do around the house?
I always had to keep the lamps clean and filled up. I had to do the
dusting, wash the dishes. And then in the spring when we housecleaned,
which I think of so much as I get older, we had to take a feather and
put it in kerosene and go around every little tiny hole about the bed
and the bedsprings. After they were washed and swept and scrubbed, we
had to do that, me and my sister.
Just to be sure every little crack was clean?
I guess Mama had chickens; I have an idea that that's where she got her
feathers.
How did the two of you meet?
Well, now, this I'd hate to admit, but I have seen it on TV lately. You
know you asked what there was for entertainment. They had medicine
shows. Now you're going to get in deeper.
Oh, yes, there's a medicine show that comes around Pittsboro.
Anyway, it was at a medicine show. Mama and my sister and I were there.
Usually, maybe a family or two would get together and go someplace like
that. It was over on Elk Avenue where those buildings are; I just don't
know which one. But it was a vacant lot at that time; there used to be
houses through there. And he said, "Let me take you home." I said,
"Well, I don't know you."
How did you decide to get married? Did he ask you?
Yes.
Would he come over to your house to visit?
Yes.
Just kind of court you.
Yes. Or we could maybe take a ride in his T-Model. And if it was a trip, Mama went with us.
Did he have to go in and ask your father's permission [to marry]?
No. I told you, we're sort of independent people.
You just decided to get married.
Just do it on your own. You do; you do it.
Did you get married at the justice of the peace or at a church?
It wasn't at a church; it was at a preacher's house.
You were really a young girl when you got married, weren't you?
Yes, but people just don't give much thought to the more serious
Did you know your father's father?
Yes.
What was his name?
James Hinkle.
Do you know when he was born?
I can sort of guess at it. It's been about fifty-one years since he died, and he was ninety-seven years old when he died.
Do you know where he was born?
No, I don't.
Or how far he went in school?
No.
What he did for a living?
No. He never did do anything after I knew him. He had been married three
times.
What was his last wife's name? Did you know her?
No, she died before I was born, but that was my grandmother, Jane Chambers.
Do you know how old she was when she died?
No, I don't.
You don't know when she died?
Maybe in 1911.
Do you know where she came from?
Up around Elk Park, North Carolina, I believe.
Did you know your grandparents' names on your mother's side?
I knew my grandmother, and she had been married two or three times. She
was Nellie Blackburn, but she was a Deloche
Do you know somebody named Sweetie Deloche?
Yes.
Is she related?
Sweetie's husband probably would have been maybe a cousin or something to him.
So your grandfather's name was Deloche?
No, my mother's father was a Blackburn.
You don't know where Nellie Blackburn was from, do you?
Somewhere in North Carolina. So was her mother.
Did James Hinkle come from North Carolina?
No, I don't know where he came from.
He's the German side.
Yes. I don't know where he came from.
Did I get your father's name?
No. Virgil Randolph.
And your mother?
Cozette Blackburn.
Do you know when they were born?
My mama was born in 1897, and I think he was ten years older than her, which would have made it 1887.
Do you know where they came from?
I think my daddy was born here in Carter County.
How far did they go in school?
About fifth grade, I guess.
Do you know when they got married?
No, I don't.
Did you have two sisters and no brothers?
No brothers.
What were your sisters' names?
I'm the oldest. Ina Nell's next, and then Hannah Bell. She goes by the name of Hannah; she dropped that "Bell."
When were they born?
Ina Nell was born in 1914. Hannah was born in 1923.
Both in Elizabethton?
Yes.
So you all have just been in Elizabethton all your lives.
Yes.
Did they go to high school?
The youngest one did, and then my other sister took a correspondence course; then she passed the high school test.
Did they ever work outside the home?
Both of them worked, but Hannah hasn't worked since she married.
It was Hannah that did work at Bemberg for a while?
Hannah worked at personnel, and the other one worked at personnel, but Ina Nell worked at Bemberg in different departments until she went . . .
They're both still alive?
[Yes.]
Is your real name David?
Yes.
When were you born?
1908.
Where were you born?
Abington, Virginia.
How did you get down here?
I just wandered off down here, is all I can tell you.
His daddy came here first and got a job with the plants.
I was working in West Virginia whenever I come down here, and so I just drifted off down here.
What were you doing in West Virginia?
I was working for the Gibson Hill
So you've done a lot of different jobs.
I've done a few different things, not too many.
You worked for the power company and then for construction and then at the plant and then driving a truck for the city. What did you do at the plant?
First I was in the chemical building there at Bemberg, down in the pressroom.
That is, after they got it built. You first went to work as a construction worker.
What year did you all get married?
I think it was the last day of December, 1927.
Now your children. What's Paula's last name now?
Simmerly. And David Randolph. My husband is David B.
Did they both graduate from high school?
Yes.
Did David go on to some other training?
Just what he had in . . .
END OF INTERVIEW