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Mrs. Ann Waldrop 123 Chatooga Avenue Athens, Georgia

January 3, 1936 S.B.Hornsby

LIFE HISTORY OF MRS. ANN WALDROP

Mrs. Jane Ward's residence was my objective when I walked out into the bright sunshine of a wonderful January day, and all too soon I found myself in the neighborhood where I knew my walk must end. The little community is widely scattered on a broad, high hill and, while there was very little breeze in the valley below, the wind that swept over the hilltop and fluttered the clothes on the lines in the back yards almost reached the velocity of a gale. These well-filled clotheslines indicated that the Christmas holidays had ended and the village had again settled down to the chores of everyday life. A shrill whistle called attention to an Atlanta bound train, but only the tops of coaches and engine could be seen in the cut at the foot of the hill.

"Where is Mrs. Ward's house?" I asked a man who was sitting in front of an old store building. "Just keep on walkin' 'til you come to the next turn and you'll find her livin' in the first house ' round the corner," he replied. There is barely space for an abelia hedge between Mrs. Ward's attractive yellow frame house and the sidewalk. Low cedars flank the steps, a criss-cross railing surrounds the porch, and a cigar box serves as a mail box.

Followin my rap, I could hear considerable shuiffling in the house, and in a few moments a little old woman appeared. "Come in," she said, and closed the front door, but suddenly opened it again to call. "lula

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Oh, Lula Belle! Come here. You know I ain't goin' to let you get out in that wind and take cold." Thinking that she was talking to a child I was surprised to see a little yellow and white dog come cringing through the doorway. "You see , Ruth and Jimmy ain't got no chillun to name, so they call this little dog Lula Belle for the singer on the radio barn dance program that's got a husband named Scotty. Lula Belle's pup is named Lindy Lou for the singer's baby. I don't know how come Ruth and Jimmy don't have some chillun. They sure do look healthy and I know they are strong enough."

The small, slender woman was wearing a green checked apron over a dress made of black figured suiting. A reddish brown sweater covered a black one, and a faded blue sunbonnet completed her costume. She wore glasses and I soon learned that she was very hard of hearing. It was evident that her affections radiate around Jimmy and Ruth. Jimmy's my son," she said. "He works over here in the machine shop at the Southern Mill. Ruth's his wife, and works at the Climax Hosiery Mill on Oconee Street, but she don't get but three days work a week right now. She's a good work hand. You can tell that by the good money she makes. They pay her by the piece: the more dozens of socks she turns out, the more money she makes. She's workin' at the mill today."

I glanced around the clean, but cluttered living room-bedroom. Blue, brown, and gray were the predominant colors in the large linoleum rug and matching scatter rugs. The mahogany living room suite was upholstered in black leatherand a showy radio sat on a mahogany table. The mahogany-colored iron bed was spread with a blue

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-3- rayon cover. A crazy-work pillow of red, black, and blue silk with white featherstitching was on the divan. Two mission rockers and two battered trunks were conveniently at hand. The fire screen was of cardboard decorated with rotagravure pictures from Atlanta newspapers. Family photographs, pictures of moving picture stars, and gay calendars lined the gray- painted, ceiled walls. The green shades were pulled down almost to the bottom of the windows and with the dingy curtains obscured the light. The room seemed very dark when we came in out of the brilliant sunshine.

"Just look at the playthings scattered 'round this room," continued my hostess, "You'd think we had a house full of chillun from the looks of 'em. Jimmy won all them things on the what-not from the different fairs that's come to this town." She was apparently very proud of the plaster deer that occupied most of the space on the small mantel. Touching it with her fingertips , she said, bought this from a man that makes 'em at some camp. He lives on t'other side of Athens. I don't reckon jimmy will grow up; he still acts like a young-un."

She paused to giggle , and continued: "This nigger doll settin ' by the deer is the only baby that Ruths got. Yes, that's all Jimmy and Ruths got, just dogs and toys." She laughed again and pointing to the hat rack by the door, said: "All them hats on that rack belongs to Jimmy and Ruth. "What did you say might be your name?" she asked. "You'll have to talk louder 'cause I can't hear none too good, and anyway I*ve done stayed in this comp'ny room longer than I ought to. Come on back here

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and have a seat by the fire." I followed her into a bedroom which, like the first, had a little of everything in it. Two iron beds, painted white, were neatly made up with candlewick spreads. Here were more trunks, a golden oak dresser, a sewing machine, and chirping away in its cage by the window was a canary. "Well, if you aint calling me Mrs. Ward," she declared. "I aint Jane. She's my sister and she ain't here, she's gone to town. What do you want with her?" When my mission had been explained, she grinned and announced: "Huh, I'm lots older'n Jane, and I don't mind tellin' you what I know, which ain't much, and yet it's lots too. Still it might not be what you want to know. I'm Mrs. Ann Pratt, but everybody 'round here calls me Aunt Sadie. I reckon that's 'cause I've got so many grandchillun about on this here hill." When she had settled herself in a large porch rocker before the fire and filled her mouth with the brown dust from a snuffbox she took from her apron pocket, she was ready to begin. "I've been here a long time now, and I can't do no more work. Why, I'll be seventy-eight the first day of May, and I was born right here in Athens on Foundry Street. No, my pa never worked in no mill. He worked for Miss Ann Grady, you know - Henry Grady's mother. That family owned the gas works. When the war broke out pa went and fought under Major Grady. I was named for Miss Ann Grady. My ma didn't work in no mill neither. Hadn't I told you my pa's name? He was Charlie Dowell. No, there aint no Mac to that name, just plain Dowell. I ought to know; it's my maiden name."

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Glancing at a picture of Franklin D. Roosevelt hung over the mantel, her attention was diverted. "Do you see that picture?" she demanded. "Well, that's the greatest man since George Washington was President. You know folks - I mean poor folks - was 'most starved. Rations were awful high, and folks out of work. The mill had shut down, and we had one terrible time 'till he got to be President." With accurate aim she directed a mouthful of amber colored spittle at a cuspidor placed near her chair, then invited me to follow her back to the front room, where she called my attention to a picture in a tarnished gilt frame. It represented American soldiers fighting in France. "Jimmy's crazy 'bout that picture. He wouldn't take the world for it," she declared. Pointing to a motto hanging over the bed and another above the divan, she said: "Them's the ones I like best. Both mottoes were made of felt pasted on card board. The one over the bed featured a large red rose on a white background, and beneath the rose were gilt letters forming the words, "The Lord Bless Thee" The motto over the divan had a red background against which a white cross was in sharp contrast, and the white lettering read:

"Remove not The Ancient Landmarks Which Thy Lord Hath Set." "Wouldnt you like to see Ruth's new dress?" she asked as we went back to the fire. "She got the cloth at the mill, and Mrs. Rogers made it for her. Mine's brown, but I ain't had it made yet. You just ought to see the cloth they make there. Its some pretty, just as white and shiny. I dont know what they get for that sort, or what Ruth paid

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