Just a little history: The ‘Small Town Boy’ has died

Grady S. Patterson Jr., born and raised in Wake Forest, died Sunday, May 13, at 90. His family will receive friends on Monday, May 28, from 4 to 6 p.m. at Mitchell Funeral Home, 7209 Glenwood Avenue, Raleigh.

The following are some of his memories he recorded in a private memoir called “Small Town Boy.”

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“My mother’s father (“Nana” to the grandchildren) [and known to others as James L. Lake] had been professor of physics at the college since the turn of the century, and our home was located just up the street [Faculty Avenue, now North Main] from theirs. We visited their home almost daily, attended church with them each Sunday, always seated in the same location, and often ate Sunday dinner with them.

“We always dined with them on Thanksgiving and Christmas and whenever other family members were visiting. I recall these family dinners as feasts invariably featuring Virginia ham, chicken or turkey, vegetables and pickles which my grandmother (“Mama” to the grandchildren) had canned , and all the trimmings, as well as multiple desserts to delight not only me but my three sisters and seven cousins as the family gradually grew. One of my favorite desserts was the dark fruit cake which Mama made every year from an old family recipe. Although she worked diligently in the kitchen, she always had a cook. On these special occasions she did the planning but most of the work was accomplished by her cook and an additional helper hired for the occasion.

“My grandfather’s house, which was situated on a lot about 2 acres in size, included an enormous gardening area as well as fruit trees, grape vines, an asparagus bed, a strawberry bed and a large grape arbor beneath which was located a chicken yard. All of this was the domain of Uncle Genatus [Genatus Dent who was a lay minister at both Olive Branch Baptist Church and Friendship Chapel Baptist Church]. The output found its way into the kitchen where it was used to feed the family, and the remainder was canned for future use. There was an endless supply of chickens and fresh eggs, and I especially loved the pickled peaches and cherries which Mama canned.

“Following a family meal we would all sit around in Nana’s extremely large bed room filled with rocking chairs gathers around the fire place whre there was always a coal fire burning during cold weather. The room would be filled with blue smoke from Nana’s pipe as the adults discussed politics, town news, and the latest happenings on the college campus. I was especially intrigued with the roll top desk at which my grandfather wrote letters and the big mirrored wardrobe which was a family heirloom. It was there – on the third shelf – that Nana kept chewing gum and candy, such as lemon drops, for the grandchildren.

“Each evening after supper Nana’s neighbor and old college friend, foreign language professor Dr. Gorrell, would come across the street, give the front door bell knob a good twist and walk inside. He and Nana would spend the evening before the fireplace in Nana’s room, smoking their pipes and discussing the news of the day and politics, especially the present occupant of the White House, “that fellow Roosevelt,” who neither of them could stand. It was a great fun to listen to them, or to sit in rocking chairs with my grandparents on the long front porch on cool summer evenings for the same kind of discussions as neighbors dropped in and trucks, tourists, and the entire world passed by out front.

“I would occasionally spend the night with Mama and Nana. This was a special treat, as we would do such things as pop corn in a popper over the fireplace coals and Nana would read to me from Arabian Nights, Fifty Famous Stories, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, or the Uncle Remus stories about Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox and the Tarbaby. I would sleep with Mama in her bed. She got up each morning about 6 a.m., split some kindling on the back porch and started a fire in the wood cook stove. I can still remember the early morning smells coming from the kitchen – a combination of sweet pine smoke and bacon and eggs. Sometimes she would make ‘cheese toast,’ which was sort of Welsh rarebit cheese sauce poured over toast. Then, following breakfast, Nana would always read from the Bible and pray, talking with God about each member of their far-flung family.”

Grady also wrote about his family’s house and yard, including “a large pine tree, extending some 20 feet into the air which was ideal for climbing. It also served as the mast of my ‘ship’ from the top of which I could look down ont eh top and the house and the entire world as I gazed far out into the countryside. On a windy day, I would swing back and forth with the pine pretending I was in the crow’s next on a ship. There were two small pines which worked well for the hammock strung between them and a mimosa tree near the rear of the house which provided a route onto the roof.

“Between our house and the Glen Royal Cotton Mill Village were four other houses. First were Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Holden and their three children, Herbert, Ada and Clarence, who were all several years older. They were essentially country people who probably had been located there before the town grew out to meet them. Behind their houses was a large barn, a chicken yard and a hog pen, and behind that a large garden which produced abundant produce. They had a mule and a cow and each fall would slaughter hogs in their back yard.

“Daddy waged an ongoing battle with their chickens, who made a habit of devouring his carefully planted grass see each spring. In order to give us a little privacy Daddy finally planted a hedge row along the property line to act as a screen.

“I can remember sitting in the Holden’s kitchen eating cold baked sweet potatoes with Clarence and eyeing the double-barreled shotgun behind the door. One spring Herbert and Clarence allowed me to accompany them on their mule-drawn wagon as they made their way around town selling produce from their garden – fresh tomatoes, corn, beans, peas and cucumbers.

“North of them lived Mrs. C.Y. Holden, a widow with seven or eight children the three youngest of whom, Nancy, Edith and Jewell, were approximately the age of Bettie Marable and me. We spent many summer evenings playing games in the front yard of ‘The C.Ys’ until Mother called out to us to come home as darkness arrived. Mrs. C.Y. always had a lovely flower garden and was generous with her advice concerning gardening methods.

“North of the C.Y.s was the stately Andrew Davis home. Mr. Davis, for several years the mayor of Wake Forest, was a retired traveling salesman. He drove two cars, one of which was an old Model T Ford with a rumble seat. Living with him and his invalid wife were their divorced daughter, Elizabeth, my Mother’s contemporary, and her two children, Betsy and Hamilton, who was to become one of my best friends.

“Beyond that was a house which my grandfather owned and eventually sold to Dr. and Mrs. Everette Gill, retired Southern Baptist missionaries, when Dr. Gill stepped down from pastoring our church and vacated the parsonage.

“Immediately south of us lived the Henry Holdens and later Police Chief Nuckles and his family, and beyond that was the elegant home of Dr. and Mrs. Hubert Poteat. He was professor of Latin, the church organist, and later Grand Imperial Potentate of the Shriners of North America. On the other side of Faculty Avenue were the home of law professor Bruce White, the stately mansions of Don Johnston and Roy Powell, and finally the home of our community physician Dr. George Mackie.

“These were the years of the Great Depression following the collapse of the stock market due to rampant and uncontrolled speculation which occurred during what came to be known as The Roaring Twenties. Homeless men roamed the countryside, traveling by hitching rides on cars and trucks or on freight trains. Since both a major highway and the railroad tracks ran through our town, it was a commonplace occurrence to have men arrive at the back door in search of a meal or a handout as they passed through town. Most people helped as much as they could with a sort of ‘There but for the grace of God go I’ philosophy.”