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"The Poppy Lady"
(Georgia)
Tom's
note: This is an interesting and unusual life history in that it is
the story of someone who is, or was, rather well-known. Moina
Michael was the woman who came up with the idea of the memorial poppy,
sales of which support disabled veterans. She received quite a bit
of recognition, and you can find more information about her on the web at
the
Great War web site, the
Georgia Women of
Achievement site, and a page about her
commemorative U.S. postage stamp (issued in
1948), among others. This story, in her own words (as presented by the
Federal Writers' Project worker), paints a picture of a 70-year-old woman
who is concerned about her legacy and seems to be somewhat bitter that she
has so little considering how much she had done. The editor smoothed
out some of Miss Michael's harsher and more self-pitying comments that the
author had originally included.
I entered the Georgian Hotel walked
through its spacious lobby to the clerks desk and asked him if he would
call Miss Michael's room, and find out if it was convenient for me to come
up. She told him she was expecting me, as I had made an engagement the day
before to visit her.
When I got on the elevator, to go to the fifth floor, I must admit I was a
little nervous, I got off at the fifth floor walked down one long empty
hall-way except for the carpet on the floor, and turned into another, a
few doors down I found the number, knocked upon the door, a voice within
said: "come in." I opened the door there stood Miss Moina Michael, she
extended her hand to me saying, "welcome into my living room, library,
office, dining room, kitchen and bed room. This is the only place I have
to invite visitors. Do you know as much as I have done for the world they
don't even so much as to give me paper and stamps to do my letter writing
in answer to the thousands of answers, and stamps to mail them with. Right
now I am preparing a speech to give over the radio in New York, in the
spring. That means new clothes, an evening dress to wear while I am giving
my talk. The thoughts of all that makes me sick. You know I haven't been
well for some time. One thing I simply don't like to do is pack for a
trip.
"Now what is it you want? A story of my life, why that is very kind of you
to think my life history is worth mentioning, but I am always doing things
like that I have thousands of questions asked me every day. Why, I am just
like a little wren just as simple as simple can be. My sister once said to
my, 'why, Beckey you are just too simple for words.' That's why I remind
myself of the little wren, just a simple little common place person.
People will write the best things about me when I am gone.
Her room is neatly furnished, a walnut chest of drawers, which serves as a
dresser on this sits a toilet set of blue glass. A large mirror hangs over
the chest of drawers. A single bed with low square posts serves as a
divan, a tapestry cover is spread over the bed and several large pillows
are covered with the same material, are arranged upright across one end
and around the back of the bed. A screen drapped with harmonizing material
is placed to obscure from view the desk, typewriter, hot plate and other
articles used for house keeping aid. Miss Michael was wearing a blue crepe
dress trimmed at the neck with a crochet collar of a delicate pattern
caught with a gold pin of full blown and buds of poppies bordered with
pearls, perhaps a gift for some noble work she has done in regard to the
work to immortalize "Poppy Day."
"Where do you want me to begin, way back to my childhood days? Well I was
born in Walton County, just a short distance from Good-Hope, between
Monroe and High Shoals, August 15, 1869. I was the oldest daughter, my
mother was Alice Sherwood Wise and married John Marion Michael. I am of
French Huguenot lineage, and borned in a cherry log cabin with a log
floor, on the spot where the first cabin was built on which was the first
clearing in that county. When my father built a better house the log floor
was taken up and the building used for a smoke house. Often I was called
from my playhouse to put oak chips on the fire when my parents were curing
their meat; mother would say; 'Beckey run and put just three chips on the
fire.' It didn't mean anything to me than, oh, the mistakes I have made if
I could call those times back, I could be of more service to the world.
"During the war the ashes were raked off the top of the ground in that
smoke house the earth was run through an ash hopper and the salt from the
meat that had dripped on the ground was extracted from it and used to
season food. Oh, what a time people had in those days, I think it was
remarkable how my grandmother carried on after her father died she was the
youngest of nine she herself was only eighteen, how she took the
plantation over and managed it successfully. He was a large land owner and
had many slaves. But 'Sherman's March through Georgia' changed all that. I
think that the things in Margaret Mitchell's book 'Gone With The Wind'
were true, I am sure it was that way around Atlanta or she would never
have written it. To my mind Meloney was the true type of Southern
Character. When I was a child and saw those stately men and women so noble
and fine it never occured to me a bad person ever lived.
"Everyone in that community turned out on meeting day, we had two meetings
each month one Sunday we went to the Baptist church and the next we went
over to the Primitive Baptist. I can see them now, those good women and
those grand old men with long white beard, praying and singing in church.
"I went to school at Braswell Academy in Morgan County, and also attended
Martin Institute from 1883 until 1885 however, I did not graduate. My
parents were not able to send me to school the next term. The first week
in June of 1885 I left school and went home. The next day I met the
children of school-age of the neighborhood in a one-room, vacant negro
cabin, on the hill, and launched my crude canoe on the educational sea. My
immaturity, ignorance, [guidlness?] and my mother's faith in me, together
with her anxiety concerning the children younger than myself and the
neighbors' children, was a cargo of this frail bark. I have taught in
county schools in rural one-room house, in town schools in larger
buildings, in church schools, Bessie Tift College, state schools with big
enrollments and large and ancient buildings, fifty-four years.
"South of my home on the old family plantation, some two miles distant
across the fields, hills, woods and Indian Creek, was the little
community, with the country post office, where we got our mail every
Friday afternoon. There was a vacant chestnut log structure which had been
the Robert Hale store. It had shuttered windows and front and back doors,
an open fire-place, I taught school five months at this building in
Good-Hope. I received eight cents per day for the sixteen children in
school for the five months. It was paid to me January 1886. I used $20.00
of it for dental work. The other I gave to my father.
"The same year I taught at Liberty, in Greene County in a one-room school
building it also was used for a church and Sunday School, one Sunday in a
month. I boarded with Mr. and Mrs. Watt Wray. Their young son, Willis,
went to school with me each day. This "Old Wray" place is a dream place
with me; the original forest which- had tremendous groves bordered flower
garden and the strutting pea-cocks beyond the paled in yard and beyond
this grove. Big vegetables gardens with real paper shell pecan trees which
was immense. It is said of this old place that the owner used to fertilize
his cotton rows with hog lard. But this generation of Wray's was living
through "the relics of former grandeur," as the rest of us southerners
were after, "The Surrender."
"I taught 4 years in the Baptist Orphans' Home; 2 years in its Courtland
Street School in Atlanta, and 2 years after it was moved to Hapeville.
Sickness overtook me and had to go home. When I was strong enough I went
back to the school room, this time at Apalachee. It was at this place that
I conducted a funeral in 1897. A little girl in that community had been
burned to death. I told my school children to bring flowers to the funeral
the next day. When the cortege arrived we were waiting on the outside of
the building. In those days there were no hearses, so that casket was
placed across the foot of a buggy, accompanied by two men, back of them
was the family in a spring wagon. In those days everyone turned-out to a
funeral. A runner was sent for the pastor, only to learn that he was
conducting another funeral at that time times. The only other preacher
living nearby that they could think of was attending court at High Shoals.
Turning to me crying, her mother said: 'Miss Moina I simply can't bury my
child without a funeral, can't you do it for me?' I couldn't deny her so I
said a few words, had my children sing; 'When He Cometh To Make Up His
Jewels,' and I closed with a prayer. There wasn't a man there, that didn't
feel comdemned, they couldn't even pray in public, and had to get a little
country school teacher to preach the funeral, that was forty years ago.
She [?] as she continued: "I have had
to pinched-hit at a funeral and wedding too. When I was at Columbia
University, a friend of mine was marrying my cousin, Congressman Walter
Wise, of Fayetteville, Georgia. At the last minute, Walter wired the girl
he was to marry. 'Best man sick, get Cousin Moina to act as best man.' She
asked me and I agreed to the plans. Walter arrived on the day of the
wedding, which was also my friend's graduation day, my friend wore her
wedding dress under the traditional apparel and after graduation exercises
were over we rode over Central Park. At 6 o'clock we drove up to the
Baptist Church. It was all very homey, no fuss about it. After the
wedding, the witnesses had to sign ever so many papers, there were ten of
us in all. The pastor, his wife, secretary, clerk and etc. When it came my
time to sign, I wrote Moina Michael, best man. Everyone laughed. Walter
has taught his children to cut out every picture of me and paste it in a
scrapbook and write underneath it 'Best man at Daddy's wedding.'
"I was house mother at Winnie Davis Memorial Hall when our country entered
the World War. I gave each of the boys I had taught some little
remembrance to take with him. Back at Apalachee, I had the brightest boy
in school. He had that rarely found ability that enabled him to excel in
studies and athletics too. He would run to me, and say: 'Miss Michael I
won that game.' I would reply, 'Yes, Louie you have won your spurs.' He
was among the last to bid me good-bye. I told him, "Louie, I want to give
you something as a little remembrance to take with you." He had joined the
Cavalry, so I told him, 'I am going to give you a pair of spurs,' he said,
'Oh, Miss Michael I was hoping you would say that, I have everything but
spurs.' We tried to get them in Athens but couldn't find them. So I gave
him a $5 bill. I don't think I ever saw anyone as happy, he bought the
spurs in Atlanta on his way to Fort McPherson. He told me he was going to
write a note saying: 'I am wearing the spurs given me by Miss Moina
Michael. No matter what happens to me in this war, whether I die of a
natural cause or am shot down on the battle field, I want them sent back
to her.' Louie was in the first victorious battle fought in France, he was
one of the men who kept the wires from being cut. It was a heavy-fight,
but when that battle was over he sent a message to his commanding officer
saying, 'We won the battle everything is O. K. signed Louie.' That message
was flashed over the world. When the war was over, he brought those spurs
to me. I took them patted him on the shoulder, saying to him, 'Louie you
won your spurs.' She showed them to me. With the spurs was a whistle:
"This," she said, "was the whistle blown in France to announce ending of
the war.
"I was in Europe when Archduke Ferdinand was killed, and I hurried home
with the other American tourists to keep out of the war, but I soon
discovered that our country would have to join in the hostilities. I will
never forget that afternoon in April when I learned that the United States
had entered in that great war. I waited impatiently on the steps at Winnie
Davis Hall, where I was housemother, for the paper boy. After getting the
paper I went to my room to read every word.
I took a leave of absence from the Normal school, now the Co-ordinate
College, and went to the Y. M. C. A. training Conference at Columbia
University in New York. It was there the final step in the generation of
the poppy idea came, for it was there I read a challenging poem.
"I met with some notable difficulty. A French woman, Madame E. Guerin,
took up the poppy cause for France, and brought poppies to this country.
The result was competition for the disabled American veterans, who were
fashioning the poppies in government hospitals for one cent each. I proved
that I had originated the idea. She gave up the work here and later took
her poppies, made by the French war widows, to Earl Haig in England. The
memorial poppy has gained wide circulation. Our annual poppy day is May,
30.
"I promised a mother whose only son went down at sea on a transport, that
those soldiers whose bodies had found a watery grave should have their
definite floral tributes as well as those whose graves were on the land.
So a poppy anchor is placed on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean on each
Memorial Day.
"I saw no reason why the beautiful new bridges built in Georgia since 1918
shouldn't be dedicated to our World War men who died to keep civilization
alive. Through me, the Teachers' College, established its own chartered
Red Cross Chapter, the first school in the United States to have such a
chapter.
"My foreign service was in Rome, Italy, where I assisted the Embassy and
the Consulate in handling the difficulties created for American tourists
by the war. The headquarters of this commitee were in the Hotel Royal. I
was presented one of the two Distinguished Service Medal's which have been
awarded in the United States. Haig's Legion of London, England has adopted
the Memorial poppy idea, which brought a total of over $20,000,000.00
profits on Poppy Day since 1921.
"I was a war worker assistant secretary to Dr. Irwin, President of the Y.
M. C. A. in New York, and it was in our quarters in the basement of
Hamilton Hall that my idea of the memorial poppy was worked out. I think
the greatest thrill I ever had was when Columbia University celebrated its
one-hundred and seventy-fifth anniversity. I was the only woman mentioned
in their report of that great and gigantic institution with thousands of
students scattered all over the world. I was too sick to get a thrill when
the state unveiled a bust of me in the State Capitol however, I don't
think it was so much in honor of me as it was just a record of the state's
achievements.
"Just think what the world has realized from the sale of poppies each
year! Seventy million dollars. And I have barely enough to buy actual
necessities. I have a letter asking for a donation toward the World's
Fair. I think they ought to be ashamed of themselves to ask me for cash.
However, I am going to New York to give a talk sometime during the Fair. I
told them I wanted to give my speech as near Poppy Day as I possibly can.
My, expenses will be paid for that trip. Requests come to me daily from
people who ask for donations. I gave $750.00 to help put over the Georgia
Bi-Centennial. I do appreciate all the nice things said about me. Someone
said of me: 'Betsy Ross is Uncle Sam's most famous seamstress and Miss
Moina is his most celebrated gardener, for she planted the Memorial Poppy
in the heart of the English speaking world.' I also have a medal from
Serbia, brought to me by Dr. Rosalie Mortan in 1930.
"One day last week I had a letter from a mother in New Jersey, asking me;
'what in the world is wrong...? I wrote my son in college there and asked
him if he had met you. He replied that he had not. I told him to go to see
you right away.' I wrote her that I live very quietly here at the hotel,
that everyone here knows where to find me. Why, I don't feel important.
Why should anyone want to know who I am? What I did, and am doing is no
more than any other person would have done. I only thought of it first.
"Since I began working, back in my young days, I have earned every dollar
I have had. I began work to educate my younger sisters. I helped support
my parents, and paid all my subsequent expenses for my own educational
advantages. The years of misfortune had left my family penniless. I moved
them into town when I taught in the school at Monroe. One of my brothers
married and then died in a short time. My other brother died a very young
man. Father's health was bad. I, being the oldest, had to support our
family. When my sister, Nell Colquitt, now (Mrs. J. W. Chamlee) graduated
at the University she was the first woman who had ever spoken from that
graduation platform [?] that institution.
"I was housemother at Winnie Davis Memorial Hall twenty-five years, but I
am too old to do much work. I am not well enough to do my own work, such
as sewing and darning. A woman came to me with a pitiful tale. She didn't
have work, owed a large doctors bill and the drug stores were pushing her
for their money. I let have the money and asked her to come to my room and
mend my clothes for me. She promised anything until she got the money, now
she won't come near me.
"Did you read in Lucian Lamar Knight's book what he had to say about me?
It is very good, but when he wrote it he sent the manuscript for my
approval. In a note he said, 'I have only given Rebecca Felton 10 pages
and have allowed 12.' I wrote him a letter and quoted what a very
distinguished person said about me when he introduced me to an audience
before I gave an address. He said, 'Rebecca Felton belongs to Georgia,
Martha Berry belongs to the mountains, Milly Rutherford belongs to Lucy
Cobb, but Moina Michael belongs to the world.' I told Mr. Knight, 'decide
for your self if I am worth twelve whole pages in your book.' When I
received a copy of the book it contained a 12-page sketch of my life and
work. I thought it was very nice to be in 'Who's Who' in America from
1932-1933.
"I have a busy day ahead of me. I am expecting an out-of-town guest, and
have just bought some lovely roses for her room. I wish I had the money to
maintain a little home so I could have my friends, but this is the only
home I can afford. I am not afraid here, the manager is awfully good to
me. They do my laundry and I don't even have to buy soap. I will go down
with you for my mail. You feel like you must tip the help for errands like
that. So I try every way I can to save my nickels. I am glad you came, and
don't consider yourself under any obligation. It is just like I going to
your office and you coming to mine. I am always glad to do what I can.
Some day I hope to be well again so I can take care of a place large
enough to display the many lovely gifts that have [been?] presented to
me." We rode down on the elevator together, and I left her in the lobby of
the hotel.
February 8-9, 1939
Miss Moina Belle Michael
"The Poppy Lady"
Georgian Hotel Fifth - floor Room 523
Athens, Georgia
Hornsby
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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