THEY BEQUEATH HERITAGE TO GENERATIONS COMING AFTER
Aunt Lucendia and Uncle Calvin With Great-Grandson Charles Vessel
Calvin Kelleys Recall Early Days of Hartburg
By MARY ALICE LAKEY
HARTBURG (Spl) — The oldest man in Hartburg is a fellow whose parents drove into Orange behind oxen for a few hours of shopping, didn’t have a preacher to “do his marrying” and who, on sunny days can still walk almost a quarter of a mile.
Hale and hearty at 90 (his birthday was April 19), Calvin Kelley and his wife, Aunt Lucendia, recall when Hartburg was settled by just a few families, had no church except once each month and schooling was just readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic — and not much of that.
Aunt Lucendia, herself 74 years old, says she was told that her grandparents came to Hartburg when her father was just a boy and at a time when the North and South were fighting their most bitter battles. Aunt Lucendia’s family was the Joiner clan which came from Alabama.
Their direct and indirect issue today includes 3 children, 22 grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren. The Kelleys and their home, which they have occupied for the past 46 years, are regarded as history marks and landmarks, respectively.
Kelley worked in tie mills and sawmills in the Deweyville-Hartburg area when a young man and later farmed in the area. He was active until only a few years ago and today, will take his hand-carved walking stick and cheerfully trek along the highway when the winds are not strong and the sun is bright and warm.
When his birthday rolls around, members of his church congregation come to him to celebrate, bringing a variety of foods and beverages to load his table. As deaf as he is, he can manage to hear the words of good cheer and congratulations.
Describes Schooling
Aunt Lucendia, describing school in the early days, says: “Folks don’t know what it is these days to get an education — we went in an old log house which had two doors and a window and we had to walk four miles to get there. Nowadays, the kids have to ride in automobiles.”
“We just had what they used to call a fourth reader,” she muses, and we had a lot of spelling and reading and we didn’t have too much time to go to school. We (stayed?) in the fields most of the time and the knowledge we got, we had to know it — or else.” Then she adds, with a shake of the head, “Today, schools are crowded and rushed — like pushing sausages through a mill.”
Her childhood days were bright when a preacher came through at intervals and delivered his sermons at someone’s house. “There was no service for buryin’,” she adds, “I remember that a group of men in the community came for my mother’s body after she died. She was placed in a crude sort of casket and the buryin’ was done without ceremony.”
Asked about weddings, she replies: “There was a justice of the peace who took care of that until the Hartburg church was started and the preacher came.”
Rides in Oxcart
As a child, her greatest delight were the trips made by her family to Orange in the two-wheel cart driven by oxen and which took the entire day. “They bought flour and sugar by the 100 pounds,” she remembers, “and we though the trip was just great — for us, it was a holiday.”
Many people in those days made their own cloth but the Joiners did not favor that. They preferred to buy the rough materials which residents could purchase then.
The families grew large crops of sugar cane for syrup which was made in an old-time wooden mill, with oxen turning the wheels which crushed the cane.
Lye soap was made, and Aunt Lucendia says she often makes soap today by the same formula “because it will do rough duty where others won’t.” She uses concentrated lye rather than the old-time mixture, however.
Her father, John Joiner, settled on old Highway 87 in Orange County when she was a little girl and her first recollectoin of Hartburg was that it had only four houses. Hers was what she describes as a “big log house.”
Kelley’s ancestors came from Georgia and, as his wife says: “They lived all over several counties. My husband and I knew each other when we were kids. That was when almost everybody knew everybody else for miles around. There weren’t too many folks, you see, and there was much neighborliness even though there were many miles between.”
Thir children are Mrs. Rosie Brinson, Mrs. Altha Brown and Jessie Kelley, to whom they have bequeathed a love for the area.
Was First Deacon
Kelley was one of the first deacons in the Hartburg Baptist Church and remembers that he was a log cutter and lumber stacker about the time he went courting ‘Miss Lucendia,’ just 15 when she married him.
On March 23, they will celebrate 60 years of married life which, they say, has been remarkably happy. There have been hardships but they were familiar with those.
They’ve used a water well for about 40 years and, when it’s fine weather, ‘Uncle Calvin,’ who does not see too well, will take his bucket and amble slowly outside to bring in the water supply.
After he quit public work, he found it pleasant to garden, run stock and milk his cows. Originally, the two owned 20 acres of land but divided it for their children when they no longer were physically able to tend it.
Now, sitting before his fire and clutching his walking cane, Uncle Calvin says with a twinkle: “This place sure has come a long ways — but so have I, I guess!”
By MARY ALICE LAKEY
HARTBURG (Spl) — The oldest man in Hartburg is a fellow whose parents drove into Orange behind oxen for a few hours of shopping, didn’t have a preacher to “do his marrying” and who, on sunny days can still walk almost a quarter of a mile.
Hale and hearty at 90 (his birthday was April 19), Calvin Kelley and his wife, Aunt Lucendia, recall when Hartburg was settled by just a few families, had no church except once each month and schooling was just readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic — and not much of that.
Aunt Lucendia, herself 74 years old, says she was told that her grandparents came to Hartburg when her father was just a boy and at a time when the North and South were fighting their most bitter battles. Aunt Lucendia’s family was the Joiner clan which came from Alabama.
Their direct and indirect issue today includes 3 children, 22 grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren. The Kelleys and their home, which they have occupied for the past 46 years, are regarded as history marks and landmarks, respectively.
Kelley worked in tie mills and sawmills in the Deweyville-Hartburg area when a young man and later farmed in the area. He was active until only a few years ago and today, will take his hand-carved walking stick and cheerfully trek along the highway when the winds are not strong and the sun is bright and warm.
When his birthday rolls around, members of his church congregation come to him to celebrate, bringing a variety of foods and beverages to load his table. As deaf as he is, he can manage to hear the words of good cheer and congratulations.
Describes Schooling
Aunt Lucendia, describing school in the early days, says: “Folks don’t know what it is these days to get an education — we went in an old log house which had two doors and a window and we had to walk four miles to get there. Nowadays, the kids have to ride in automobiles.”
“We just had what they used to call a fourth reader,” she muses, and we had a lot of spelling and reading and we didn’t have too much time to go to school. We (stayed?) in the fields most of the time and the knowledge we got, we had to know it — or else.” Then she adds, with a shake of the head, “Today, schools are crowded and rushed — like pushing sausages through a mill.”
Her childhood days were bright when a preacher came through at intervals and delivered his sermons at someone’s house. “There was no service for buryin’,” she adds, “I remember that a group of men in the community came for my mother’s body after she died. She was placed in a crude sort of casket and the buryin’ was done without ceremony.”
Asked about weddings, she replies: “There was a justice of the peace who took care of that until the Hartburg church was started and the preacher came.”
Rides in Oxcart
As a child, her greatest delight were the trips made by her family to Orange in the two-wheel cart driven by oxen and which took the entire day. “They bought flour and sugar by the 100 pounds,” she remembers, “and we though the trip was just great — for us, it was a holiday.”
Many people in those days made their own cloth but the Joiners did not favor that. They preferred to buy the rough materials which residents could purchase then.
The families grew large crops of sugar cane for syrup which was made in an old-time wooden mill, with oxen turning the wheels which crushed the cane.
Lye soap was made, and Aunt Lucendia says she often makes soap today by the same formula “because it will do rough duty where others won’t.” She uses concentrated lye rather than the old-time mixture, however.
Her father, John Joiner, settled on old Highway 87 in Orange County when she was a little girl and her first recollectoin of Hartburg was that it had only four houses. Hers was what she describes as a “big log house.”
Kelley’s ancestors came from Georgia and, as his wife says: “They lived all over several counties. My husband and I knew each other when we were kids. That was when almost everybody knew everybody else for miles around. There weren’t too many folks, you see, and there was much neighborliness even though there were many miles between.”
Thir children are Mrs. Rosie Brinson, Mrs. Altha Brown and Jessie Kelley, to whom they have bequeathed a love for the area.
Was First Deacon
Kelley was one of the first deacons in the Hartburg Baptist Church and remembers that he was a log cutter and lumber stacker about the time he went courting ‘Miss Lucendia,’ just 15 when she married him.
On March 23, they will celebrate 60 years of married life which, they say, has been remarkably happy. There have been hardships but they were familiar with those.
They’ve used a water well for about 40 years and, when it’s fine weather, ‘Uncle Calvin,’ who does not see too well, will take his bucket and amble slowly outside to bring in the water supply.
After he quit public work, he found it pleasant to garden, run stock and milk his cows. Originally, the two owned 20 acres of land but divided it for their children when they no longer were physically able to tend it.
Now, sitting before his fire and clutching his walking cane, Uncle Calvin says with a twinkle: “This place sure has come a long ways — but so have I, I guess!”
-- This is a newspaper article probably from the Orange Leader in 1958, judging from ages and the reporter's name.
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