Mincey’s Musings Year One, Week Nine

On Sunday afternoon, February 18, 2018, my Sunday School class from Loveland Baptist Church went to the East Tennessee Historical Society’s Museum of East Tennessee History, located at 601 Gay Street in Downtown Knoxville. For any reader who has never been there, I highly recommend the trip. If you love local history, you will not be disappointed.

We went on that particular day to see a 2:00 p.m. showing of the movie Sergeant York. An Internet search will reveal that the movie was released on July 2, 1941 by Warner Brothers. Alvin York was a real person, a World War I hero who received the Medal of Honor. He became famous when, on October 8, 1918 he practically single-handedly captured 132 German prisoners during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive.

York, however, began life as a poor young man from Pall Mall, Tennessee. Gary Cooper portrayed York in the movie. Walter Brennan also had second billing as Pastor Rosier Pile. The only other actor with which I was familiar was Noah Beery—he starred as a stock character in several television shows (notably Bonanza) and played as “Rocky”, James Rockford’s father on The Rockford Files.

On the day of our visit, a historian was on hand to explain the differences in the real life of Alvin York and the liberties to make the film entertaining, and the movie did indeed have many funny moments. An Internet search will tell you that Sergeant York was a smashing success at the box office, the highest grossing film of 1941. Wikipedia states that the film benefited from the attack on Pearl Harbor which occurred on December 7 of the year of the film’s release. The film helped recruit soldiers to World War II.

I thoroughly enjoyed the film. After it ended we browsed the gift shop and took advantage of a few “freebies”. One of these was a reprint of a Saturday Evening Post article from April 26, 1919 (priced at publication at five cents per copy, $2.00 for a year’s subscription. Also, reprinted was the September 2, 1964 cover page of the evening edition of The Knoxville News-Sentinel (the Home Edition, priced at seven cents), which related the death of Sgt. Alvin York that same day. The story began on page one, continued on page 2 and page 3 of the next day’s paper featured many pictures remembering York’s life.

How interesting it is that York’s long past related to my long past through page 3 of that news article. Right below all the pictures of York was an O. P. Jenkins Furniture Co. advertisement (209 W. Vine Ave., “57 Years on Vine”, Phone 523-8431). I just called the number—it of course no longer works.

One of the featured items for sale that day was a Speed Queen™ automatic washer (12 lb. capacity), heavy duty, fully automatic. For the fantastic price of $198.00 (and your old washer), this jewel could be taken home for $10.00 per month with no money down! Without financing (O. P. Jenkins financed their own accounts) it would have taken 19.8 months to pay off. I figure with financing it would probably have taken two full years to pay off.

Yet another featured item for sale that day was Model 50 of a heavy duty Speed Queen™ wringer washer (large size, bowl shaped tub, double wall to keep water hot, heavy duty wringer). This section of the advertisement was more prominent, probably because at that time more wringer washers were sold than automatics. For only $109.95 (and your old washer) this valuable item could be purchased and financed at $6.00 per month. Without interest, that would come to 18.325 months. Again, I figure with financing that it would probably have taken two full years to pay off.

This reminded me of my mother. For as long as I can remember, Mother had a Maytag™ wringer washer with an aqua-colored agitator (the thing that moved the clothes in the bowl) and control knobs. Mother never had an automatic washer nor an indoor bathroom until we moved to Ann Thacker’s house on Maynardville Highway in 1984.
How times have changed! In 1964, an automatic washer cost more than a wringer model; now I doubt a new wringer washer could be purchased, and automatic washers cost three to four times what they were priced in that 1964 advertisement.

Note that no clothes dryer was mentioned in the sales ad. Mother’s clothes dryer when she used a wringer washer was a piece of wire tied to two posts with a tree branch in the middle to keep the weight of wet clothes from sagging to the ground. As a kid, I used to love to run through the fresh-washed sheets and smell the cleanliness!

Now, picture this—Wendy’s in Halls, March 2016. I’m standing in line with my wife to order food, checking Facebook while I wait to place our order. Someone has posted a picture of a wringer-type washing machine, requesting that readers who recognized this ancient device “like” and “share” if they recognized the object.

The nostalgia of a history enthusiast and rhetoric of the schoolteacher were aroused within me by the picture. I started reminiscing with my wife and the kind but unknown elderly lady in line behind us about my personal knowledge (and limited experience) of the use of a wringer washer. Believe it or not, to this day I could still wash clothes on a wringer washer.

My wife finally said, “Don’t you think she (the lady in line behind us) has used one of them, too?” (Letdown!) Had my wife said this five minutes sooner, she might have spared all concerned this walk down memory lane.

On several occasions I had bragged about my ability to “sum a person up” within the first five minutes after meeting her or him. The last time I did this, someone said, “Do you think you’re the only person who can do that? Don’t you think practically everybody can do that?” (Letdown!)

Next week I’ll share some of my (mis)adventures of sizing people up (and being sized up by them).