When I was about seven years old, my mother and I were walking in the vicinity of McClure Street just off W. Market and observed a man on the opposite side of the street who appeared to be under the influence.

As the hapless high-stepping chap staggered along, one of his feet literally slapped the pavement as if he had no control over it; the truth was, he didn’t. I asked Mom what was wrong with him. While I cannot recall her explanation, I now suspect that he likely was a victim of a malady known as “Jake Leg,” a term describing someone affected by ingesting large quantities of Jamaica ginger, a product containing a high concentration of alcohol. 

In early 1930, newspapers in the American South and Midwest began reporting an unidentified new paralytic illness that was affecting relatively large numbers of people. Oddly enough, the problem was not that prevalent in other areas of the country. The assignable cause was soon linked to Jamaica ginger, an advertised medicinal tonic legally marketed and sold as a remedy for a number of illnesses.

“Jake,” as it became known, had been in use from about the time of the Civil War. With the passing of the Volstead Act in 1919, the production of all commercial alcohol was forbidden in the United States with one notable exception – medicinal products.

Over the next several years, 50,000 to 100,000 people, mostly males, were permanently crippled with partial paralysis from the drink. The problem quickly crept into hobo jungles along railroad tracks of the affected routes. Compared to whiskey, Jake was much cheaper and had higher alcohol content. The product sold between 1920 and 1930 caused no significant health problems other than the usual alcohol related concerns.

The dilemma occurred when manufacturers decided to add an industrial plasticizer to the drink known as TOCP, which was mistakenly thought to be harmless. The tasteless, odorless and colorless additive was put in the drink to mask the high alcohol content detected during government tests of the product. Also, Jake was highly adulterated with molasses, glycerin, and castor oil to lessen the objectionable ginger taste, making it somewhat more palatable to consumers.

Jake leg caused neurological damage to the body particularly to the spinal cord. The first visible sign of it was a gradual paralysis that affected the lower extremities, thus giving it its name. As a rule, the condition was temporary but sometimes became permanent and even fatal.

The plight of these sufferers became the subject of numerous country songs with such titles as “Jake Leg Blues,” “Jake Bottle Blues,” “Jake Walk Blues,” “Jake Leg Wobble,” “Got The Jake Leg Too,” “Jake Leg Rag,” “Alcohol and Jake Blues,” “Jake Liquor Blues” and “Jake Walk Papa.” Artists of that era included Lemuel Turner, The Allen Brothers, The Ray Brothers, Byrd Moore, Narmour and Smith, Tommy Johnson, Ishman Bracey, The Mississippi Sheiks, Daddy Stovepipe and Mississippi Sarah, Asa Martin and Willie Lofton.

After the Food and Drug division of the U.S. Department of Agriculture took a serious aim at the problem, the popular drink became illegal, but many habitual users skirted the law and managed to locate supplies of it.

After about six years, Jake Leg became history. Today, only the scratchy echoes of the old songs taken from worn out 78-rpm records remind us of the affliction of yesteryear: “You're a Jake walkin' papa with the Jake walk blues; I'm a red hot mama that you can't afford to lose.” 

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I received a letter from Lynn Williams, former chief engineer at radio station WBEJ in Elizabethton, saying he fondly remembers their remote broadcasts from atop Elizabethton’s Dutch Maid Drive-In on Elk Avenue.

“As engineer,” said Lynn, “I took care of the nuts and bolts of the operation, but was not averse to donning another hat, such as the ‘Musical Penthouse’ production. This was a creation of Bill Hale, a ‘ball of fire’ program director and future station manager. In 1956, I agreed to operate the studio equipment at night during the on-location program.”

According to Lynn, WBEJ transmitted Monday through Saturday nights from 7 pm until sign-off at midnight. The engineer recalled several announcers from that era: Curley White, Jim Berry, Ed Howze, E. Lee “Leaping Lee” Brown, Larry Hinkle and Harold “Hap” Henley Ziggy Ziggy Higgenbottom. Hap was the well-liked host of “Hap’s House in Session.”

The Dutch Maid penthouse, a four-foot by six-foot enclosure above the eatery, had plate glass windows on four sides, allowing outside patrons to observe the announcer. A bright florescent light fixture was mounted on the ceiling, making the disc jockey even more visible from below. The transmitting booth contained only the necessary equipment to play records over the air.

Climbing to the broadcast penthouse was no easy task. The announcer had to unsteadily scamper up the backside of the building, while carefully hanging onto the guttering and downspouts. This dicey inconvenience was deliberate; it kept people from going up to the booth and disturbing the deejay or falling off the roof.

A gold painted galvanized water bucket was used to accumulate song requests. It was routinely lowered and raised by the announcer to collect song titles from diners. A large wooden box contained 100 45-rpm records, representing the top hits of the day. These unbreakable vinyl platters had to be returned to the studio each night lest the sun’s heat ruin them the next day.

Williams further commented: “The brightness of the penthouse attracted oodles of flying bugs, forcing the announcers to make a choice – keep the door closed to keep out bugs and endure the heat or open it and let in cooler air and bugs.

“The station scheduled a 30-minute break at precisely 10 pm. I gave the news, sports and weather from the main studios. This allowed the deejay to ‘shinny’ down the drainpipe, visit with fans and get something to eat. Occasionally, he was late returning to the booth, prompting me to segue records until he arrived back at his post. This gave the illusion to listeners that the music was coming from the Dutch Maid. I occasionally chatted over the air with the remote disc jockey, but I was incognito known only as “Prof,” preferring to remain in the background.”

Lynn occasionally invited high school students into the studio through the unlocked door to play some of the ‘break time’ records. He taught them to operate the equipment and even helped a few obtain a license to work in radio. Fifty years later, he still recalls some of their names: Jim Luther, Don Swanner, Doug Greer and Bob Coffman.

The Dutch Maid remote continued intermittently until its demise in 1964. Lynn concluded his letter by saying: “It was a great time and it is too bad that it all came to an end. Sadly, most of the people I worked with at WBEJ are no longer living.” Like so many pleasurable things in life, they so quickly and quietly slip into yesteryear never to return. 

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My recent column concerning Miss Dora Huddle, former Tennessee History teacher at Junior High School, prompted a note from Betty Durman, saying the article brought back many memories of her first years in Johnson City.

“As a student at the University of Tennessee,” said Betty, “I had Dr. Folmsbee (co-author of The Story of Tennessee) as my professor for Tennessee History and American Diplomatic History. The professor was inaudible if you did not get a front row seat in his class at Ayers Hall on the ‘Hill.’ He was dry as a bone, but like Miss Dora, he had a heart of gold lurking below that gruff surface.”

Once when Ms. Durman inadvertently underestimated the number of pages of required reading she had accumulated for his course, the professor kindly permitted her to return to the library to re-total the pages. She subsequently received an “A” for the subject. When her instructor asked her what she planned to do after graduation, she responded that she wanted to teach in Johnson City. She recalled that his eyes lit up and he praised Miss Huddle as a teacher. She was instructing at Junior High School.

Betty further noted: “I got a last minute call from school superintendent Mr. (Howard) McCorkle, offering me a job teaching science at North Junior High School. My fiancé was already in Johnson City, so I jumped at the opportunity. When I walked into the school in 1964 as a 21-year-old, I quickly realized that Dora Huddle was a force to be reckoned with among the downstairs teachers. The school staff was pretty much divided between the upstairs and downstairs groups and the line was evident even to a newcomer. My room was upstairs, but I felt close to the two groups and they both let me circulate between them.”

Betty remarked that nearly everyone on the staff was much older than she, with the exception of a teacher named Sandy Smith. The Huddle sisters were especially kind to her, recalling that Dora habitually wore red and Louise frequently adorned violet or purple. She commented that Dora would have found modern educational psychology difficult to deal with because she complimented students only when they performed well, not when they just achieved minimum requirements.

Ms. Durman humorously recalled an expression Dora uttered in the privacy of the teacher’s lounge. She would say that someone needed to be ‘bored for the simples,’ a century-old slang term meaning ‘to have one’s skull drilled to cure lunacy.” This was an occasional axiom heard on the weekday old-time radio program, Lum and Abner. When the chorus became too loud in the room directly above Dora’s, her eruptions were a regular occurrence,” said Betty, “especially when they sang ‘Little Drummer Boy’ one time too many just before Christmas every year.

“I came to be her friend and her kindness extended to my son when he was born,” said Betty. “I spent many pleasant visits at the home she shared with her sister Louise and got to know her sister Anne Hoilman when she substituted at the school.”

Betty’s note ended with these expressive words: “Miss Dora and Dr. Folmsbee are fine examples of teachers who had no visual aids and did not endeavor to entertain their charges. They simply knew their subject extremely well, told things like they were, assigned you to find out for yourself and thereby left an indelible imprint on their students. I can say of both teachers that beneath that gruff exterior laid a heart full of caring and kindness. Both helped me in ways I will always remember fondly. Thank you for remembering her.”  

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The Jan. 30, 1908 Comet proclaimed in bold letters: “New Railroad Will Be Great.” A subtitle further stated “South And Western To Be The Best Built, Means Much In The Development of East Tennessee.” This early railroad would later be labeled the Carolina, Clinchfield and Ohio Railroad (CC&O), eventually becoming known simply as the Clinchfield.

In early 1905, a small group of capitalists purchased 800,000 acres of coal land in Wise, Dickinson and Buchanan counties, Virginia and formed the Clinchfield Coal Corporation. These investors also acquired control of the property of the defunct Charleston, Cincinnati and Chicago (3Cs) Railroad. Backers included some of the richest men in the country, including George L. Carter, president, and M.J. Caples, general manager.

Rapid development in the Central South section of the country caused these entrepreneurs to soon recognize that their nearby coal reserves could help satisfy a growing demand for the fuel. These investors were determined to take advantage of the opportunities it afforded. To accomplish this, they realized that a new railroad line would be needed and they were determined to be the ones to build it.

The rail system, to be named the South and Western Railroad, was to operate from Elkhart City, KY to Spartanburg, SC, a distance of 284 miles. At Elkhorn City, it was to connect with the Big Sandy branch of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, providing an outlet for the mines to the northwest. Allegedly, Carter did not want Southern Railway management to know the precise route of the new venture across the Blue Ridge Mountains. Consequently, he chose the generic name “South & Western” rather than listing city or regional names, as was the customary way to identify them.

The managers further realized that, to put their operation on equal footing with other major industrial sections of the country, steep grades had to be reduced, requiring an enormous outlay of capital. However, when completed, the new rail route would be able to haul as much coal from the mines to market in one train as could have been hauled in three trains over existing lines using locomotives of equal capacity. To accomplish this result, an amount of money was needed such as had not been expended for the initial construction of any other railroad in the country.

The connections, which it acquired with the Southern, Seaboard Air Line, Atlantic Coast Line and other railroads radiating through the Central South, enabled the Clinchfield coal to become a potent factor in the market throughout the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. Cotton mills, furniture factories and a large number of industrial plants began to spring up everywhere and the number was expected to increase even more so.

In addition to the great amount of coal that it hauled, this rail system also carried loads of lumber for a number of years. A large quantity of virgin forest lay upon the line. An even larger acreage of timber was present with hundreds of millions of feet of merchantable timber standing awaiting a better route to market other than floating logs on the swollen waters of mountain streams. Expectations were high that the next few years would bring a large influx of people migrating into a region that was largely sparse back then. 

The article’s optimism showed through in its visionary concluding note: “The future for even so expensive a railroad as the South and Western seems assured and the judgments of its backers and builders will no doubt be amply vindicated.” The statement would prove to be prophetic. 

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Three Huddle ladies taught in Johnson City’s public school system during the 1950s – Dora (Junior High), Louise (Science Hill) and Pansy (Columbus Powell).

Louise became my homeroom teacher in the 10thgrade. Dora was my “Tennessee History” teacher in grade 7B (fall/winter). She was a small thin lady with a strained voice and a somewhat cranky disposition. Her classroom was located on the first floor at the far northwest end of the building.

Miss Huddle’s life appeared to evolve heavily around Tennessee history. She employed both conventional and outlandish methods while instructing her pupils on the origin of the Volunteer State. Our textbook was The Story of Tennessee by Joseph H. Parks and Stanley Folmsbee. The name “Parks” is forever etched in my memory from hearing her mention him so often in class.

In 1990, I was browsing though some books at a tent sale in the parking lot opposite Greg's Pizza in North Johnson City, I spotted a 1973 sixth edition reprint of the textbook used by Miss Huddle.  In the Preface, the authors acknowledged 10 individuals who offered helpful suggestions with the preparation of the work.

Included were three locals – Miss Dora Lee Huddle, Mrs. L.W. McCown and Mr. George Finchum. The latter was a professor at Training School (University High), ETSU and Milligan College. Miss Huddle permitted the authors to use her Master’s thesis as a resource for their book.

My most memorable incident concerning my teacher was when she assigned our class to build a model log cabin similar to those used by the Tennessee pioneers. This project was shown in the textbook at the end of Chapter 3. Miss Huddle forewarned us that in order to get a decent grade the log cabin had to look authentic similar to the one shown in the textbook. We were permitted to use nails provided they did not show.

This venture turned out to be quite enjoyable and very special to me because my dad became heavily involved. He drove us to Erwin and turned onto highway 81 toward Jonesborough to a picturesque spot at the base of a hill overlooking the Nolichucky River.

While climbing the steep terrain, we placed carefully selected small tree limbs into a cardboard box. Dad and I brought the pieces home and took them into the basement. We cut the limbs into “logs,” notched each one, glued and nailed them together to form our cabin, which we mounted on a small plywood base. We utilized small pieces of rock for the chimney.

The day came for us to bring our cabins to class for grading. Miss. Huddle collected them on a large table near the door. She returned them to us in about two weeks. Not finding my cabin on the table with the others, I nervously approached my teacher as to its whereabouts. She informed me that I (and Dad) had received an “A” and that she was keeping it for permanent display in her room.

I was flattered that Miss Huddle selected my cabin for exhibit in her classroom, but felt cheated that I was not going to keep the little homemade relic that my father and I labored over for several weeks. Dad’s wise counsel was for me to graciously accept my grade and forget about the cabin. I took his advice largely because I had no aspiration to confront my teacher.

Although I did not realize it in 1956, this highly knowledgeable and dedicated instructor made a giant educational mark on my life by spurring my interest in local history. I only wish she were alive today to read this column. Dora Huddle will forever reside in my memory … along of course with Mr. Parks. 

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My two previous Dutch Maid columns evoked additional responses from readers. The first came from Mike Burgner, nephew of the late Otto (nicknamed Ott): “Your article brought back many memories for me as I used to work for Uncle Ott. I wish that he could have read your article. I miss him and the Dutch Maid.”

Rex Burgner next responded with his own reminiscences: “Your article circled through our family, those of us who are left. It brought back fond memories of a good time in Johnson City when we were not trying to compete with every other city in Tennessee. If anyone can remember the kids that ran around the restaurant, well, that was us.

“As I read the article, I can still see (my great) Uncle Ott in the back of the restaurant cooking chicken and potato wedges in the pressure cooker. Yep, that was the secret; cook potatoes and chicken together in a pressure cooker and make sure to serve them with a biscuit and a pack of honey to put on the potato wedge.

“’Frog,” the cook, had a secret technique that he used for cooking the best liver in Johnson City. He always covered the meat with a plate when he cooked it on the griddle because he couldn’t stand the sight or smell of liver, ha ha.”

Rex went on to say that his grandfather, Rev. Roy G. Burgner, preached at several Baptist churches in East Tennessee: “When my grandfather died some years ago in Walhalla, SC, I was shocked to see all the people who came to his funeral from Johnson City. The talk that day centered about “The Preacher,” as he was known, and the Dutch-Maid Drive-In.”

I mentioned Jerry Honeycutt’s impressive painting of the restaurant in my previous column. He sent me the attached photo that epitomizes the frenzied activity level surrounding the popular business at night with hordes of people arriving by car, truck and motorcycle. Some cruised the restaurant repeatedly; others stood outside talking with one another; and a number of patrons enjoyed curb service dining in their now antique vehicles.

Jerry remarked that he had a creamer with the Dutch Maid stopper still in it. He also commented on the large sign above the famous eatery, indicating that he worked several years for the sign maker, the late James Hensley, who was one of the “Erwin Nine POWs.” Jerry eventually created the drawing for the prisoner of war monument at VA’s emergency room entrance.

The artist related that he possessed three books that once belonged to Burgner. John Alan Maxwell, who was one of his art instructors, provided the art for their jackets. They were valuable to him because of who had owned them and who had illustrated them.

According to Jerry: “My family had a lot of get-togethers when my aunts and uncles came to town for our annual family reunion. I guess that is how I got into the Dutch Maid reunion and the annual Racer's Reunion that I produced for 11 years. I knew a lot of people who went to the Dutch Maid.”

Let me close with some fitting words from Rex Burgner: “It would be nice to be able to have a place like the Dutch Maid again, wouldn't it? Nobody has time anymore to relax and enjoy life. I can still remember taking the food out to the cars and hoping for a tip. Does ‘curb-hopping’ even exist anymore? I hope so.”

I will feature a fourth Dutch-Maid column soon that captures Lynn Williams’ treasured and humorous remembrances of the time he worked for WBEJ in Elizabethton as one of the deejays who broadcast nightly and took record requests from atop the Dixie/Dutch-Maid Drive-In. 

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The May 24, 1940 student publication, “Junior High News,” offered a synopsis of 16 school sponsored clubs that included each one’s purpose, faculty sponsor (fs), president (p), vice-president (vp) and secretary (s).

Home Economics Club: Miss Lindsey (fs), Elizabeth McMackin (p), Mildred Morelock (vp) and Geraldine Greene (s). “Learn and discuss home duties and send representatives to meetings in Washington and Unicoi Counties to find out what other school clubs are doing.”

Bird Club: Miss Mathes (fs), Vergie Tester (p), Tibby McMackin (vp) and Clarice Dickson (s).  “Learn about habits, customs and ways of living for different species of birds.”

Dramatic Club: Mr. Belew (fs), Marilyn Gibson (p); Elizabeth Rowe (vp) and Anna Marie Irish (s). “Promote interest in dramatics, perform skits and pantomimes and learn how to apply make-up.”

Recreation Club: Miss Candler (fs), Marguerite Long (p) and Betty Cooley (s).  “Promote interest in athletics for girls.”

Junior Red Cross Club: Miss Barnes (fs), Betty Ruth Williams (p), Mary Frances Nave (vp); and Billy Highsmith (s). “Help others who are less fortunate than us.”

The Stage Frighters Club: Miss Grigsby (fs). “Give boys and girls a chance to appear before the public, present programs in chapel and before PTA gatherings and offer skits to each other during meetings.” Apparently no one was audacious enough to serve as an officer because no names were listed.

Science Club: Mr. Boyd (fs), James Bridges (p), Toy Johnson (vp) and Paul Swatsell (s). “Bestow more knowledge of science to boys and girls.” 

Civic Club: Mr. Hall (fs), Mae Saylor (p), Virginia Curtis (vp) and Queenie Mitchell (s). “Learn the happenings of our government and facts about famous people.”

Girls Craft Club: Miss Whitehead (fs), Beverly Smythe (p) and Betty Asquith (s). “Teach members to make beautiful and ornamental things with their hands.”

Glee Club: Miss Hart (fs), Sammy Rose (p) and Marilyn Gibson (s). Promote better singing for students. “Gain confidence by singing for PTA, radio and at the Music Festival.” 

Short Story Club: Mrs. Miller (fs), John Human (p), Eloise Wagner (vp) and Mary Ann Carmack (s). “Read and study the short story.”

Modern Authors Club: Miss Siler (fs), Marie Parrott (p), Harold Oliver (vp) and Martha Darden (s). “Learn more about the numerous authors of today and their works.”

Latin Club: Miss Taylor (s), Bill McNeese (consul) and Lone Sisk (scriba). “Acquire more knowledge about the old Roman way of life.”

The Cherokee Hiking Club: Comprised of Boys Division and Girls Division. Girls Division: Miss Bradshaw (fs), Miss Beard (fs),  Dorothy Newell (p), Nora Ellen White (vp) and Martha Carter (S). Boys Division: Mr. McCorkle (fs), Mr. Oaks (fs), Jack Greene (p), Eric Herrin (vp), Harold Barr (s) and Charlie McCoy (treasurer). The purpose of the club was not given.

The Travel Club: Miss Archer (fs), Lone Sisk (p), Eric Herrin (vp) and Ruth Ann Sells (s). “Study about the beauties and wonders of our own and other countries. Encourage the reading of travel books.”

The Patrol Club: Mr. McCorkle (fs), W. T. Willis (Major), Mac Trammell (Captain) and Gerald Goode (Captain). “Maintain safety on entering and leaving the building, effectively use Traffic Guides to maintain order and keep traffic moving in the halls and corridors.”

The 1940 newsletter concluded with the graduates commenting about how enjoyable and profitable the club experiences were to them at Junior High School.  

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I recently examined the contents of an April 1945 “Woman’s Day” magazine that carried a price tag of two cents. I was three years old when this publication hit the local magazine stands. What impressed me the most was the emphasis of World War II on advertisements and sacrifices made during the conflict. For example:

Red Goose Shoes: “Help Uncle Sam save leather. Buy boys’ and girls’ shoes that wear longer. Invest in war bonds regularly.” Texcel Tape: “Today most Texcel Tape that’s made is being used for war. Buy bonds and stamps until victory returns to your store. Oakite Cleanser: “Buy war bonds and stamps.”

Johnson’s Glo-Coat Floor Polisher: “Fibber McGee and Molly say, ‘Nurses are needed. All women can help. See the Red Cross or write the Surgeon General, U.S. Army, Washington, D.C.’” SweetHeart Toilet Soap: “Don’t waste soap. It contains materials vital to the war effort.” McCormick & Co.: “Serving the Armed Forces throughout the world.”

Swift’s Allsweet Vegetable Oleomargine:  “Your first duty to your country – Buy war bonds.” Waldorf Tissue: “The more war bonds you buy, the shorter the war.” Beech-Nut Gum: “Until final victory, you may not always find this delicious gum at your (store). Our fighting men are now getting most of it.”

Fletcher’s Castoria (The Laxative made especially for children): The ad title was “I became an Army Nurse and solved a Navy Problem.” The problem was that her brother, a sailor, and his wife had a baby boy suffering from irregularity. The quandary was quickly eradicated with a bottle of Fletcher’s Castoria.

Speed Queen’s washing machine ad revealed the scarcity of appliances during the war. It showed a housewife running toward her husband and joyfully proclaiming, “I’ve got a priority. I stopped at Jones Appliance today and made arrangements to get one of the first Speed Queen washers they get in (after the war). All I had to do was register in a little book. We will be notified when the first shipment arrives.”

Balanced Pacific Sheets gave a lengthy plea: “Let’s pitch in and give the boys what they need to finish this war and give it in lavish abundance. Take a war job or hang on the one you have. Buy bonds … more and more and still more. Conserve your worldly goods: mend that old sheet; don’t throw it away. And when at last you must buy replacements, let them be (of course) superb Pacific Balanced Sheets.”

An article titled “My Country “Twas of Thee” warns returning servicemen that things would not be as they left them and they too must sacrifice until supplies catch up with demand.

Another article, “The High School Crowd Lends a Hand,” describes how volunteers were serving in the Junior Division of The American Women’s Hospitals Reserve Corps at Jamaica Hospital in Long Island, NY. The ladies worked one half day each week performing a variety of helpful tasks.

A notice on one page said: “The wartime burden on transportation facilities may cause delays in shipment of Woman’s Day Magazine to some stores. We regret any inconvenience you may be caused and ask that you not to blame your store manager.”

Another advertisement titled “Carry Victory in Your Basket” suggested numerous helpful hints for reducing paper needs: “Every time you go to the store and carry your purchases home unwrapped, you help bring victory so much nearer. Take along a basket, box, shopping bag or some permanent container that is roomy enough to carry your purchase home.”

The ad asserted how paper was used to wrap and protect more than 700,000 different war items including shell containers, bomb rings, parachutes, flares, blood plasma, vests and V-Mail envelopes. It ended with the words: “Remember – Paper is War Power.” 

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I haven’t operated my Yesteryear Time Machine lately so let me crank it up and take us on a voyage to 1908 in downtown Johnson City, a municipality of about 7500 inhabitants. The sole purpose of the trip is to dine at Pardue’s Quick Lunch Counter at 239 E. Main. Take your heavy coat along; you will need it.

I set the dial on the machine to noon, Thursday, Jan. 9, 1908 and off we go to that era. We disembark on Main Street, a two-lane newly bricked road with almost no vehicular traffic. This is nine months before the Model T automobile will be introduced to the public. 

As we approach the “eating house,” as the are called, Henry Pardue, the proprietor, greets us at the front door. His customers are a mix of storeowners and shoppers. We learn that he also owns a wholesale distributor business selling groceries, fruits and bakery items. The food must be really good because the place is teeming with customers.

The lunch “Bill of Fare” contains a surprising 96 items subdivided into Meats, Dairy Dishes, Specials, Seasonable, Fruits, Relishes, Vegetables and Beverages. Prices vary from 5 to 25 cents.  We casually glance over the menu to decide what to order.

The 19 meat choices and prices include ten sandwiches: liver .05, hamburg (yes, hamburg) .05, tongue .10 (no thanks), ham .10, chicken .10, turkey .10, cold beef .05, cold pork and sausage .05.

Other items are breakfast bacon .10, small steak .15, fried liver and onions .10, American sardines .10, French sardines .25, pickled pigs feet .10, pork chops .15, and oysters .25. My pick is liver and onions, but Henry is going to allow me to sample the hamburg beef because he says it contains coffee, brown sugar and sundry other ingredients.

The vegetable items are priced at a nickel each: Boston baked beans, soup beans, stewed corn, boiled cabbage, raw or cooked sauerkraut, butter beans, string beans, succotash, stewed tomatoes, fried sweet potatoes, greens, red kidney beans and a bowl of soup. For my sides, I want soup beans, boiled cabbage and stewed corn.

Also on the menu are 14 relishes: dill pickles .05, sour pickles .05, sweet mixed pickles .05, sweet plain pickles .05, sliced beets .05, sauerkraut .05, cold slaw .05, India relish .05, queen olives .10, celery .10, stuffed olives .10, and cucumbers .10. I believe I will try India relish and sauerkraut.

Looking over the fruits section, I notice they have 11 items: oranges .10, grapefruit .10, bananas and cream .10, peaches .15, pears .15, apricots .15, white cherries .15, rolly polly cherries .15, plums .15, pineapple .15 and baked apples .10. Give me the cherries.

Included among the 11 beverages on the menu are young (leaf) Hysop tea .05, ginger ale .15, buttermilk .05, and cocoa and crème .10. I understand the tea is quite refreshing so I will sample it.

The 20 dairy dishes consist of graham bread and milk .10, dip toast .10, corn or batter cakes .10, jelly roll .05, graham wafers .05, shredded wheat biscuit .10, force (whole meal biscuits) and milk .10, Malta Vita and milk .10, and Elijah’s Manna and milk. I definitely must try the last one because where in 2008 would I find that item on a menu?

The Bill of Fare also contains five seasonable choices: watermelon on ice .10, Rocky Ford cantaloupe .10, cantaloupe and cream, new peaches and cream and sliced tomatoes. I will go with the tomatoes.

After a leisurely enjoyable lunch, we pay our bill at an old fashioned cash register. My meal comes to .50 plus I added a .10 tip. We depart the eatery, board our time machine and return home. I hope you enjoyed our brief yet unique lunch excursion to 1908 to savor some gastronomic delights of yesteryear.  

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Johnson City has been blessed over time with a cornucopia of historians, some celebrated and others obscure, but all equally important by preserving valuable facts from the past. A case in point is a Johnson City Press-Chronicle column written by the popular late Tom Hodge containing family information presented to him by Sarah Jackson.

This lady possessed some documented utterances of a former slave known as Uncle Dick Crawford. The notes appear to have been penned in the late 1800s by family members. Sarah’s reason for bringing the papers to Tom was her trepidation that they might be discarded after she was deceased. Ms. Jackson vaguely recalled when Uncle Dick ate a meal in the kitchen of their Main Street residence (no specific address given).

The kids adored and were fascinated by the elderly gentleman and sat around the table listening to him talk as he ate. His hair was described as being as white-as-snow. The written statements were a mixed bag of facts regarding life around the East Tennessee area.

For example: “I went to Johnson City for the doctor for Perry Hunter’s folks when there were only four families living in the town – Tip (Tipton) Jobe, Henry Johnson, John Bowman and Dr. Seehorn.”

The notes mention other residents of the city: “Miss Lizzie Russell was born April 4, 1836, cared for by Uncle Dick Crawford. I was at Brush Creek Campground when lightning killed Miss Mary Taylor and Mr. Miller while William Milhorn was preaching. The old East Tennessee Virginia and Georgia Railroad (eventually known as the Southern Railway) was finished in 1850 with President Cunningham driving the last silver spike. Richard (Uncle Dick) Crawford cooked the last meal for the engineers of this road at Henderson’s Mill, within six miles of Greeneville.”

Three marriages were shown to have occurred in 1878: Mr. J.D. Cox to Miss V.T. Bachman, Miss Suda Cox (no husband listed) and Mr. Harrison Haws to Miss Rosanna People.

The record further stated that the 3C’s engineer corps left Johnson City March 1, 1878 for Big Moccasin Gap. Col. Matson was chief with Johnson, Hagey and Phillips, surveyors.

The notes also said: “I was present at each of the following weddings, having cooked the dinner for each: Robert Thomas, M.L. Peoples, Will DeVault, John Cochran, (?) Burkhart, John Hunter, Will Hunter, James Martin, Robert Martin, Robert Hunter, Rev. W.M. Vines, George Swadley, John Galloway, John D. Cox, H.H. Haws and Jacob Bacon.

“The old courthouse of Jonesborough was burned in the year 1858. The first family grocery story was put up in Jonesborough by John Dunlap, an Irishman. Miss Stuart Slemons was married in Jonesborough. The printing office in Jonesborough stands where it stood 58 years ago.

“The first excursion was run by Henry Salts on the Southern Railroad. I cooked W.E. Maden’s wedding dinner in the year 1885 and was at Thomas Garst’s wedding and cooked the dinner.

“Jacob Naff and John Naff worked in a tailor shop in the cellar of the Mrs. Fain building in 1885. I was present at the marriage of William R. Miller to Miss Nannie Perry and waited on them.” 

Sarah was indeed judicious to share the papers with Tom and preserve important information from that era. Thanks to the combined efforts of Uncle Dick Crawford, Sarah Jackson and Tom Hodge, we have been afforded with another succinct yet invaluable source of local history.  

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