Oxford Life Before the Turn of the Century
by Leon Eakes
From the Unpublished Booklet “Memories II: Of Life in Oxford, Georgia Between 1885 and 1897”
Primitive Life
Life at the Branham House
It’s hard for present day students to realize what handicaps were ours in those days when we had no screens on doors or windows; hence, there was an abundance of flies and mosquitoes. There were no electric lights. We turned on the lights by striking a match to look for a lamp. The kerosene lamps had to be cleaned and filled each day. If the wick and oil had been neglected, we had to fill it with oil, or go find another lamp.
There were no water taps in the kitchen or in the rooms, no indoor toilets, no telephone, no picture shows, radios, or televisions. The only diversions from study, in the way of a gathering of students, were prayer meetings. We had many of those each week. Each class had its prayer meeting once a week and the student body had one on Friday afternoon and there was a church service every Wednesday evening.
We cooked on a wood burning stove. Heating was provided by wood or coal fires in a fireplace or grate.
On wash day, women had to draw many buckets of water from the well to fill several tubs and a large pot in which to boil the clothes. These large pots were on the ground and the water inside them was heated with fire fueled with wood piled around and underneath. The women rubbed the clothes on a ridged board, leaning inside the tub.
I wonder now how women found enough hours in the day to knit socks and stockings for the family, make dresses for the girls and shirts for the boys and men, cook, sweep, wash dishes, fill the lamps and keep up the fires.
At the coming of 1900 we were entering a period of mechanical, political, domestic and educational revolution. One subject of hot debate was that of woman’s suffrage. Although many who were in favor of women’s voting on property questions, seemed ashamed to be bold enough to favor the giving them suffrage on all political matters.
There were no water taps in the kitchen or in the rooms, no indoor toilets, no telephone, no picture shows, radios, or televisions. The only diversions from study, in the way of a gathering of students, were prayer meetings. We had many of those each week. Each class had its prayer meeting once a week and the student body had one on Friday afternoon and there was a church service every Wednesday evening.
We cooked on a wood burning stove. Heating was provided by wood or coal fires in a fireplace or grate.
On wash day, women had to draw many buckets of water from the well to fill several tubs and a large pot in which to boil the clothes. These large pots were on the ground and the water inside them was heated with fire fueled with wood piled around and underneath. The women rubbed the clothes on a ridged board, leaning inside the tub.
I wonder now how women found enough hours in the day to knit socks and stockings for the family, make dresses for the girls and shirts for the boys and men, cook, sweep, wash dishes, fill the lamps and keep up the fires.
At the coming of 1900 we were entering a period of mechanical, political, domestic and educational revolution. One subject of hot debate was that of woman’s suffrage. Although many who were in favor of women’s voting on property questions, seemed ashamed to be bold enough to favor the giving them suffrage on all political matters.
Games We Boys Played
One game that entertained the less dignified and lower-class men was “cutter.” A line was drawn on the ground as the starting point. One who would volunteer to be the first “down” jumped as far from that line as he could, then would lean forward until his torso was about horizontal with the ground and then brace himself by placing his hands or elbows on his knees. Boys would then take turns leaping from the first line over the “down” by a short run, placing their hands on his back. After all had gone over the “down,” the last one would mark his stopping place and the “down” would advance to that spot. This would continue till long running jumps had to be made to get “over.” One failing to make the “over” would become the “down.”
Another popular game was marbles. It had more of a system and was more fun than simply hitting for ‘keeps.” A ring 8 to 12 inches in diameter was drawn. Four marbles were placed on the perimeter in position to make a square and a fifth one in the middle made the target. At a chosen mark called a “taw,” all players stood and shot one at a time at the middle man. The one who knocked it from taw had the game and the man was replaced and a new game started. Any one knocking three of the men won the game. Each time one missed (or hit) he made the next shot from where he picked up his taw.
Another popular game was marbles. It had more of a system and was more fun than simply hitting for ‘keeps.” A ring 8 to 12 inches in diameter was drawn. Four marbles were placed on the perimeter in position to make a square and a fifth one in the middle made the target. At a chosen mark called a “taw,” all players stood and shot one at a time at the middle man. The one who knocked it from taw had the game and the man was replaced and a new game started. Any one knocking three of the men won the game. Each time one missed (or hit) he made the next shot from where he picked up his taw.
Oxford's Alligator
Some person, returning from Florida, thought it would be fun to have a pet alligator. But he (or she) grew tired of caring for it at home and let it loose in the little pond at the end of George Street, at the intersection with Wesley Street.
This pond was very low in summer and never deep enough to threaten our lives even during the deepest rains. At the west side of this mud hole was a high bridge, a part of the walk extending from the college by the old church to the home of Miss Lynn Branham. Under that bridge was the overflow of our “lake,” which made possible the cat tails and tall weeds. As barefoot boys, we had to watch carefully as we approached the home of the big lizard, but we enjoyed seeing it hold open its mouth until enough flies, gnats, and bugs were in it for a good morsel; then it would close its cavernous jaws and swallow them. Then, walking slowly to the water, it would get out of our sight. This must have been between 1887 and 1890. When the city dads had the pond filled with dirt, the water and alligator disappeared, but it was some time later that the bridge was moved and the present fill made a permanent walk.
This pond was very low in summer and never deep enough to threaten our lives even during the deepest rains. At the west side of this mud hole was a high bridge, a part of the walk extending from the college by the old church to the home of Miss Lynn Branham. Under that bridge was the overflow of our “lake,” which made possible the cat tails and tall weeds. As barefoot boys, we had to watch carefully as we approached the home of the big lizard, but we enjoyed seeing it hold open its mouth until enough flies, gnats, and bugs were in it for a good morsel; then it would close its cavernous jaws and swallow them. Then, walking slowly to the water, it would get out of our sight. This must have been between 1887 and 1890. When the city dads had the pond filled with dirt, the water and alligator disappeared, but it was some time later that the bridge was moved and the present fill made a permanent walk.
Remembering Uncle Josh
Josh Henderson was known by most people in town as “Uncle Josh.” We kids held him in awe because he seemed to have magic about him. He kept great hives of bees just behind the post office on the east side of Emory Street, across the street from the June Branham Store. That store was about a half block north of the junction of George and Whatcoat Streets. The bees buzzing around the many hives he kept in the little room adjacent to his back veranda would not sting him, no matter how he moved about among them. He could rob their hives without cover of net or gloves and never get a sting. His wife, who was the postmistress of Oxford, said that even she could not understand his familiarity with the honey makers.
The bee house was built with long, narrow openings (we would call cracks) where bees could easily ingress and egress. Uncle Josh, with his long white whiskers, walked slowly with erect head and shoulders, and would swing his walking cane in a peculiar way, which I cannot describe. His awkward stride and speechless habit caused us children to give him all the space he needed – and then some. The disappearance of the bees, the post office building, and their keepers must have occurred soon after my leaving Oxford in 1897.
The bee house was built with long, narrow openings (we would call cracks) where bees could easily ingress and egress. Uncle Josh, with his long white whiskers, walked slowly with erect head and shoulders, and would swing his walking cane in a peculiar way, which I cannot describe. His awkward stride and speechless habit caused us children to give him all the space he needed – and then some. The disappearance of the bees, the post office building, and their keepers must have occurred soon after my leaving Oxford in 1897.
Swarm of Bees
When I was 14 years old, a swarm of bees in our small apiary found their home crowded and took off on a hegira. One day, we heard this great roar and a group of family and boarders came to see what was happening. The bees had settled on a limb of an apple tree near our kitchen. Tom Berry, the street car driver, was the good neighbor who came to help. He fixed a barrel hoop in the mouth of a potato sack and tied it to the end of a long pole. It was decided that someone had to stand with the contraption under the tree branch where the bees were. It seemed that I was the only one fool enough to try it. Berry climbed out on the limb and kicked the hive off the branch. The beautiful sweet thing fell and about half of the bees went into the bag and the rest on my head, coat, face and hands. Now, what!?
I had to let the bag down with as little shaking as possible, for the movement could scare them into stinging. Some of the crowd yelled, “Run, Lon!” But I stood as still as I had been and put the load to the ground as quietly as I could. For why should I frighten the dear things? I wanted them to make honey for my hot biscuits. Berry found some spots on the lapels of my coat that he could touch without hurting a bee, so he carefully pulled back my coat and I slipped gently out of it. Then I found myself in a sticky situation. The funny young things began to fly off to find their queen and found her a new house. Those who did not go into the new abode decided to try to kill me. My face swelled up so, we thought I had been stung a few dozen times, but we were surprised to find only six to ten stings on my face and just two or three on each hand. For about a week, my face looked like a full moon – except the moon’s face doesn’t have freckles or a bed of red hair on top. In spite of everything, I didn’t miss a day of school, but I will say that if I were to rob any bees again, I would hire an accomplice.
I had to let the bag down with as little shaking as possible, for the movement could scare them into stinging. Some of the crowd yelled, “Run, Lon!” But I stood as still as I had been and put the load to the ground as quietly as I could. For why should I frighten the dear things? I wanted them to make honey for my hot biscuits. Berry found some spots on the lapels of my coat that he could touch without hurting a bee, so he carefully pulled back my coat and I slipped gently out of it. Then I found myself in a sticky situation. The funny young things began to fly off to find their queen and found her a new house. Those who did not go into the new abode decided to try to kill me. My face swelled up so, we thought I had been stung a few dozen times, but we were surprised to find only six to ten stings on my face and just two or three on each hand. For about a week, my face looked like a full moon – except the moon’s face doesn’t have freckles or a bed of red hair on top. In spite of everything, I didn’t miss a day of school, but I will say that if I were to rob any bees again, I would hire an accomplice.
Palmer Institute Graduates
Miss Tudie Stone was the sister of Professor Harry Stone, who taught in the sub-freshman, or preparatory, department of the college. In the spring of 1887, Miss Stone told six of us so-called “bright boys” that we should go to sub-fresh next fall. Accordingly, she gave the names of us six boys, who were alert in baseball and fist fighting, to her brother, Dr. Harry Stone, who admitted us without examination. It did not take long for the more alert professor to discover that we were not prepared for this advancement. Frank Means was 10 years old, I eleven, and the others were 12.
When the spring came, and lessons were harder, it became obvious that we could not pass into second year. We began dropping out, working some and playing more, but with staggered efforts, we went back to school. Frank Means finished in the class of 1986; this writer, in the 1987; Perry Griffin in 1899; the other three, Flournoy Branham, DeWitt Farris, and Ellie Griffin, were in and out of school for a few years, but never finished.
Harry Stone was a model of gentleness and patience, given to thoroughness in all good things. After several years in the sub-fresh department, he was made professor of mechanics and the part of mathematics that Professor Peed did not teach.
When the spring came, and lessons were harder, it became obvious that we could not pass into second year. We began dropping out, working some and playing more, but with staggered efforts, we went back to school. Frank Means finished in the class of 1986; this writer, in the 1987; Perry Griffin in 1899; the other three, Flournoy Branham, DeWitt Farris, and Ellie Griffin, were in and out of school for a few years, but never finished.
Harry Stone was a model of gentleness and patience, given to thoroughness in all good things. After several years in the sub-fresh department, he was made professor of mechanics and the part of mathematics that Professor Peed did not teach.
Helping Halls
During the first 65 or 70 years of Emory College, there were no dormitories on the campus. Students, all boys of course, boarded in homes all over town until halls were built to house 16 to 24 boys each.
I think the problem with the old “helping halls” was caused by boys of younger age, with little supervision and guidance [from] adults. After the change, the president recommended that the younger boys, ages 15 and 16, board where a woman presided over table and home. Among such homes were those of Miss Stewart, Miss Branham, the Reverends Parks, Farris, and Eakes – pastors of circuits within horse and buggy distance – and the Howell, Berry, and Moore homes.
When the helping halls were closed, the president appointed a mature student to manage each of the three halls, which we called “mess halls.” Florida and Marvin Halls were to furnish board for ten dollars a month, and Andrew Hall for eight dollars. At the end of the month, if the manager had any money left over after expenses, he was to divide it, returning to each boy his share of the surplus, or credit it on next month’s bill. Florida Hall was the big house at the west end of the street, one block south of the church. Marvin Hall, long ago disappeared, was a half-block east of the church, facing south, next door to the Caper/Dixon Home. Andrew Hall is the house west of the home of the late Miss Lynn Branham, and on the north side of the street, some professors also boarded a few boys.
I think the problem with the old “helping halls” was caused by boys of younger age, with little supervision and guidance [from] adults. After the change, the president recommended that the younger boys, ages 15 and 16, board where a woman presided over table and home. Among such homes were those of Miss Stewart, Miss Branham, the Reverends Parks, Farris, and Eakes – pastors of circuits within horse and buggy distance – and the Howell, Berry, and Moore homes.
When the helping halls were closed, the president appointed a mature student to manage each of the three halls, which we called “mess halls.” Florida and Marvin Halls were to furnish board for ten dollars a month, and Andrew Hall for eight dollars. At the end of the month, if the manager had any money left over after expenses, he was to divide it, returning to each boy his share of the surplus, or credit it on next month’s bill. Florida Hall was the big house at the west end of the street, one block south of the church. Marvin Hall, long ago disappeared, was a half-block east of the church, facing south, next door to the Caper/Dixon Home. Andrew Hall is the house west of the home of the late Miss Lynn Branham, and on the north side of the street, some professors also boarded a few boys.
The Means Family
The large house standing one hundred yards east of Main Street (Emory Street) was for many years a popular boarding house. Frank Means, a son of Dr. Means, once president of Emory College, was the father of five. Lucy, Helen, and Frank Jr. were in Palmer Institute with me. Henry and Sue, much younger, are now (1963) retired teachers; Henry is in Little Rock, Arkansas; and Sue is Mrs. Johnson of Gainesville, Georgia. She taught English in that city for twenty-five years.
Changes in Habits
There was no written law against going to class without coat and collar, but it never happened. Even in the dormitories, going to table without coat was not allowed.
Since it was a boy’s college, boys in mess halls did not see women except on Sundays at church.
Another aspect of those days was having to go without cigarettes. Even though our president and his great teacher admitted that they smoked cigars, and said that they would quit any time the habit seemed to have gained mastery over them, they insisted that cigarettes were worse. Lessons were often brought to us by speakers from the Y.M.C.A., and others, showing that nicotine in cigarettes could clog the lungs and hinder good activity of the mind until very few boys smoked – and even then, only in their rooms. I never saw a student smoke on campus.
Every boy was required to go to church on Sunday and urged to attend prayer meetings, for which there were three opportunities each week. Of course, we also had to go to chapel every morning at nine a.m. and then again in the evenin’ (as we called it) at four p.m..
Once a year, we had a revival meeting in the big old church and the professors made lessons shorter, to ensure we would attend. Occasionally, then as now, we saw a professed Christian behaving very inconsistently, which makes me wonder whether our religion was more sincere than that of present day students.
Since it was a boy’s college, boys in mess halls did not see women except on Sundays at church.
Another aspect of those days was having to go without cigarettes. Even though our president and his great teacher admitted that they smoked cigars, and said that they would quit any time the habit seemed to have gained mastery over them, they insisted that cigarettes were worse. Lessons were often brought to us by speakers from the Y.M.C.A., and others, showing that nicotine in cigarettes could clog the lungs and hinder good activity of the mind until very few boys smoked – and even then, only in their rooms. I never saw a student smoke on campus.
Every boy was required to go to church on Sunday and urged to attend prayer meetings, for which there were three opportunities each week. Of course, we also had to go to chapel every morning at nine a.m. and then again in the evenin’ (as we called it) at four p.m..
Once a year, we had a revival meeting in the big old church and the professors made lessons shorter, to ensure we would attend. Occasionally, then as now, we saw a professed Christian behaving very inconsistently, which makes me wonder whether our religion was more sincere than that of present day students.
Intercollegiate Games (in 1894 or 1896)
A narrative of Emory at Oxford would not be complete without the story of the last baseball game with another college. Students of the University of Georgia came by train through Atlanta and took over the campus with their pompous egotism. During the game, there was much drinking, swearing, sneers and jeers at the “corn field ball ground” on which they had to play. At the next chapel service, Dr. Candler followed the devotions with, “That was the most disgraceful event that was ever witnessed on this campus. And there will never be another intercollegiate ball game with this institution as long as I have anything to do with it, so help me God!”
It seems our “Shorty,” as we affectionately called him, still has “something to do with it.”
It seems our “Shorty,” as we affectionately called him, still has “something to do with it.”
A Halloween Buggy Ride
Professor Stone Sr., father of Harry Stone, lived across the street from Miss Lynn Branham’s home. A few of her student boarders went out for fun on Halloween. (A typical prank was to move or hide something belonging to one of the faculty away from its usual place). This night they were targeting the senior mathematics professor, however, they found nothing loose enough to be moved. So they went to his buggy shed and pulled the top buggy out and down the road a hundred yards. They did not wish to give the elderly gentleman too much trouble, so they stopped not far away and were giggling over the fun of the next morning when they would see him lead his horse out there to draw the vehicle home. But as they dropped the shafts, their giggles were interrupted by the venerable teacher’s voice: “Well, boys. I’ve had a good ride, so turn around and take me back home.”
In the darkness of night, they had not seen that, under the top the professor was sitting there in his buggy in comfort. The next morning, the neighbor’s mischievous boarders met the buggy rider on the sidewalk, but they saw only smiles on his face and never heard a word of complaint from the gentleman who lived in triangles, circles, parabolas, and logarithms, but was always “on the square” with everybody.
In the darkness of night, they had not seen that, under the top the professor was sitting there in his buggy in comfort. The next morning, the neighbor’s mischievous boarders met the buggy rider on the sidewalk, but they saw only smiles on his face and never heard a word of complaint from the gentleman who lived in triangles, circles, parabolas, and logarithms, but was always “on the square” with everybody.
James H. Dickey: A Young Man With Long Hair
James H. Dickey
Professor Stone Sr., father of Harry Stone, lived across the street from Miss Lynn Branham’s home. A few of her student boarders went out for fun on Halloween. (A typical prank was to move or hide something belonging to one of the faculty away from its usual place). This night they were targeting the senior mathematics professor, however, they found nothing loose enough to be moved. So they went to his buggy shed and pulled the top buggy out and down the road a hundred yards. They did not wish to give the elderly gentleman too much trouble, so they stopped not far away and were giggling over the fun of the next morning when they would see him lead his horse out there to draw the vehicle home. But as they dropped the shafts, their giggles were interrupted by the venerable teacher’s voice: “Well, boys. I’ve had a good ride, so turn around and take me back home.”
In the darkness of night, they had not seen that, under the top the professor was sitting there in his buggy in comfort. The next morning, the neighbor’s mischievous boarders met the buggy rider on the sidewalk, but they saw only smiles on his face and never heard a word of complaint from the gentleman who lived in triangles, circles, parabolas, and logarithms, but was always “on the square” with everybody.
In the darkness of night, they had not seen that, under the top the professor was sitting there in his buggy in comfort. The next morning, the neighbor’s mischievous boarders met the buggy rider on the sidewalk, but they saw only smiles on his face and never heard a word of complaint from the gentleman who lived in triangles, circles, parabolas, and logarithms, but was always “on the square” with everybody.
H. Styles Bradley
Another man of brains on the faculty was H. S. Bradley who, as honor man in class 1890, attracted attention as a speaker, scholar, and thinker. After graduation, he was made professor of physiology, biology, and geology, but was too much of a modern thinker – as Harry Fosdick, Parkes Cadman, and other evolutionists – to remain on the Emory faculty. He went to a large church in Atlanta, but after two years went to Massachusetts and became a pastor of a Congregational church. He became famous in Ohio and in a San Francisco congregational church before retiring to Florida, where he died before World War II. He inspired many boys to be independent in their thinking.
We seemed to have horse and buggy sloth in our conservative thinking in history of the universe and in religion. Bradley did not.
We seemed to have horse and buggy sloth in our conservative thinking in history of the universe and in religion. Bradley did not.
Tree Replanting
The only class tree planted on the campus that died within the first year (that I ever heard of) was that of our class of 1897. When I visited the college in March of 1898, I saw our tree standing there dead with no prospects of putting out leaves. So I hired the only dray man in town to drive to the country, find an elm like the others, and plant it. I helped to fill the hole with dirt around and over the roots. It has grown wonderfully and is larger than most of those planted a year or two earlier. When our fiftieth anniversary came in 1947, I told the thirteen members present of the event, and that they owed me one dollar, with interest for fifty years. They have paid me many time over by their personal greetings and kindness.
Reunion
There are only three living members of the class of ’97 out of the thirty-six who graduated. They are C. R. Gwyn, a retired banker of Zebulon, Georgia, J. H. Gress, a retired capitalist of Los Angeles, California, and this writer. When I said to them, “Here you fellows are, both wealthy, and I am a poor preacher.” Their reply was, “Yes, we know it. We’ve heard you preach.”
Much water has passed over the dam since the days of the 1890s. After living in Missouri, Kansas and other Midwestern states for forty years, spending time teaching in a Methodist junior college, singing with evangelists and preaching, I moved to California, where my three sons have settled. I now live in Stockton, California with my youngest son and his family where we are very happy. His children are making such records in school and their grandpa is very proud of them. I was awarded another degree by members of the Retired Teachers Association; an S.O.C. After wondering what those letters mean, I read that Mark Twain said once that they meant “Silly Old Grandpa.” I accept the nomenclature with pride.
Much water has passed over the dam since the days of the 1890s. After living in Missouri, Kansas and other Midwestern states for forty years, spending time teaching in a Methodist junior college, singing with evangelists and preaching, I moved to California, where my three sons have settled. I now live in Stockton, California with my youngest son and his family where we are very happy. His children are making such records in school and their grandpa is very proud of them. I was awarded another degree by members of the Retired Teachers Association; an S.O.C. After wondering what those letters mean, I read that Mark Twain said once that they meant “Silly Old Grandpa.” I accept the nomenclature with pride.