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COTTON AND HORSESHOES
(Georgia)
"Certainly, I can spare you a little
time." David Black remarked with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Since the
government entered business, time is the thing we have the most of."
It required quite some time to find this office which is located two or
three doors from the Cotton Exchange. Shortly after we had exchanged
greetings Mr. Black was called out to the warehouse and I took the
opportunity to glance around. As far as equipment went, the office was a
facsimile of others of its kind. The unique feature was the array of
horseshoes that adorned the walls and even the electric cords. Above the
desk hung a large horseshoe, fashioned of thirteen small ones. Some were
new and shiny, some old and rusty, and there was even one that was rough
and home-made.
When Mr. Black returned to the office I said:
"Well if there's any truth in the old adage pertaining to horseshoes you
certainly should have an abundance of good luck."
"I don't believe in that old superstition." He replied with a grin. "I
have them for identification. In case a customer should forget my name he
would possibly remember the display of horseshoes, which after all is a
bit unusual. Should this happen he could at least ask for the darn fool
who has all the horseshoes hanging in his office.
"Seriously though," he went on. "There are fifty of them in all. One to
represent each year I have worked in the cotton business."
Just outside the office, enclosed with iron grillwork, was the bookkeeping
department. Several men were working at long desks. A large iron safe
constituted the only other equipment in the room.
The sample room was located in the front portion of the warehouse. Mr.
Black explained that a place must be selected where the greatest amount of
light would fall on the tables where the cotton samples were classified.
The grade and the initials of the owner are indicated on a slip of paper
and rolled inside of the sample.
"Do you want me to go back to the beginning. Well, my friend, that's a
long way." He said thoughtfully.
"I am a native Augustan as was my father. But my mother was a
Charlestonian. I first saw the light or day on June 15, 1875. My grammar
school education was obtained at the old Central School and I attended the
Richmond Academy for a year.
"I married an Augusta girl and we have two sons, who also make their home
here. Both of them were graduated from the Richmond Academy, spent two
years at Junior College and completed their educations at Pine Hill
College in Alabama. Then they returned to Augusta and entered the cotton
factorage and warehouse business. The elder boy married last June and he
and his wife live with us. The other one is also at home and both are
doing well.
"I am now 65 years old and have lived my entire life in this fair city,
with the exception of three years which I spent in Charleston during my
young manhood.
"Fifty years is a long time to work in one line of business." David Black
said pensively. "I went to work on Cotton Row when I was only fifteen
years old and am now rounding out my fiftieth year.
"Many and drastic changes have taken place during the half century I have
worked close to the old Savannah River. The most important and effective
change was undoubtedly when the government entered the cotton business.
The many restrictions and the various taxes imposed on the business people
have caused potent cuts in overhead expenses.
"In other words where formerly business concerns made contracts at the
beginning of the cotton season for twelve months, in many instances they
are now forced to make them for only 30-day periods.
"There is a resultant unrest and uncertainty for both employer and
employee. It is very much like the Good Book says: 'You know not the day
nor the hour.' The cotton factor has come to feel that the incentive to
reach out for voluminous trade has been taken away. Now he limits his
business so as to take as few chances as possible.
"The businessman of today is very much
like the Irishman, who, upon becoming weary of his arduous tasks, decided
he needed a vacation. When he applied to the agent for a ticket, the man
asked Pat if he would like to have a return ticket. Pat replied: 'Faith,
no, can't you see I'm already here?'
"Prior to the World War, Augusta was one of the largest cotton centers in
the South. In days gone by when farmers were allowed to raise as much
cotton as they wished, more than once Augusta's receipts totaled a half
million bales of cotton per season. Now the total is not over 150,000
bales.
"Yes," he went on reminiscently, "Cotton Row has undergone some drastic
changes.
"In former years when cotton was king, Cotton Row was the most popular
place in town. Warehouses overflowed; and the streets where they were
located were almost impassable because the excess had to be placed on the
sidewalk. There was always a great deal of excitement and the streets were
fairly alive with samplers, weighers, and markers. Business was booming
and the surrounding territory had the appearance of an ant bed, where the
ants were hurrying back and forth getting their food stored away for the
winter.
"The cotton exchange building at that time was perhaps the busiest place
in town. It was always crowded. Now we miss the familiar rhythmic chanting
of the cotton men on the streets.
They indicated the brands on the bales by calling out: 'Betty, Dora, Emma,
Molly, etc.' The first letters of the names indicated the brand but they
used the whole names to avoid errors caused by the similarity of sound,
say for instance in 'B' and 'D'. You can readily see there was no shadow
of a doubt when they called out, 'Betty' and 'Dora.'"
"Didn't the men who worked with the cotton wear long dusters over their
suits?" I asked.
"Yes." He replied. "This was necessary in order to protect their clothes
from the lint of the cotton and jute bagging, and from the ink they used
for marking.
"Cotton people really made money in those good old times!" He exclaimed.
"But when all's said and done we are making a living and things could be
worse.
"This talk with you has recalled many things to my mind, some of them
events that used to be part and parcel of Augusta's community life. Chief
among these were the old fire parades, the street carnivals, and the
cotton parades.
"The remains of the throne upon which old King Cotton sat in the parade is
still in our sample room. In those days not only cotton but Cotton Row was
the life of the town.
"The public could always call upon the cotton people for cooperation and
also for generous donations whenever they were needed. At that time almost
as many people visited the cotton factor's office as now frequent the
banks. Everybody knew everybody else. One could walk into any crowd and
feel that he was not only known but welcome.
"By the way, wouldn't you like to see the old throne that took such a
prominent part in the old cotton parades?" Mr. Black asked.
"I can't think of anything that would give me more pleasure." I replied
promptly. "And I should like to hear more of the cotton parade."
We continued to talk as we strolled slowly toward the sample room.
"Who portrayed King Cotton and when did the parade take place?" I wanted
to know.
"Well, it was away back some fifty odd years ago, I guess." He said
thoughtfully. "And the King was a fine old man, whom we knew as Uncle
Josh! He passed into the Great Beyond many years ago.
"The parade was always held at night on Broad Street. The floats were
decorated farm wagons, delivery wagons, and other vehicles. They were all
loaded with cotton and were lighted with lanterns that burned coal oil."
By this time we had arrived at the sample room where the old relic was
preserved. The thick pieces of pine timber from which it is made have
become rough and dirty. The back is about three-and-a-half feet high and
is fashioned of two twelve inch boards.
In its halcyon days the old throne was covered with lint cotton, and
cotton in the bolls furnished the frills. Practically all of the one-time
decoration has disappeared; one arm is lost, and the bottom is gone.
We were both lost in memory for a few moments, for I, too, have spent many
years in Augusta. Mr. Black was the first to break the silence.
"All of these things I have told you today would mean absolutely nothing
to the young people of this generation. To them they would be purely the
ramblings of an old man. However, I believe there are quite a number of
the older ones who would recall them as fond recollections. The day of the
minuet and waltz have passed and the rhumba and 'Sans-Susy' have replaced
them. The motto seems to have become - On with the dance; drink and be
merry and let joy be unrefined.
He concluded rather sadly: "And thus have the prosperous days of Cotton
Row passed into history. It is now like 'the calm after the storm.'"
COTTON AND HORSESHOES
(A Depression Victim Story)
Written by: Mrs. Daisy Thompson
Augusta, Georgia
Edited by: Mrs. Leila M. Harris
Supervising Editor
Georgia Writers' Project
Area 7
March 12, 1940.
[? ?] Saul
Cotton Factor and
Warehouseman
731 Reynolds St.
D. T.
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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