AUTUMN REFLECTIONS OF THE KILGORE PROPERTY

Visiting my mother these past few weeks, during this early November of 2012, has made me appreciate my “sweet home, Alabama” setting-- rural Winston County, near Nauvoo.  My daddy’s land is the land on which he was reared and it is also the land where I was born and grew up.  How many people can return to the land of their roots and still see everything as it was?  My brothers, sister, and I are fortunate to be able to do just that.

I have observed that in Alabama we usually have our peak fall colors during this time of year.  As I walked in the woods on the home place of my childhood, the beauty of autumn is in full display. The word ubiquitous comes to mind when I think of all those leaves.  As nature makes a move toward dormancy, there are all kinds of leaves clinging from twisting branches in different arrays of color.  In contrast, the falling leaves have blanketed the ground underneath those trees in varying faded colors.

The scene ministers to my inner spirit.  Life has a slower pace.  All this results in a  personal sense of appreciation.  God has blessed our family so much as we lived out our lives on this land. We have a great heritage.  With reverence I walk the land.  I feel the fresh air of an early morning dawn as the chill of the night disappears in the mist.  It is as if nature has created its own special lens for viewing the moment. All is tranquil.  I see beauty in the simplicity of the old home place.  The land is at rest. All is well. 

As I walked up the road from my mother’s house, the same house where I was born more than 67 years ago, the thought came to mind that I needed to capture all this on camera-- the light shining through the trees, the early sun spotlighting the house, the road itself winding through the woods, and the leaves covering the ground. 

 Let the pictorial journey begin. Needless to say, the camera does not capture what I saw.  It does create a record of the land and structures that are enduring to the Kilgore family.

The following photographs are of the property of Cecil and Beatrice Kilgore, who moved there in the early 1940s.  They bought the original house from Cecil's Father, Virge Kilgore for $600.00.

Winston Co. Road 21 from Poplar Springs to Nauvoo

Gate to the property and signs posting for
personal property and alarm system

Upper house cottage moved to property
from Double Springs, Alabama and is
location of Cecil Kilgore Family holiday gatherings

Private Drive from the upper cottage to the main house
Distance is approximately 1/8 of a mile.

Circular drive from mail box and  wooded yard near
main house

Main House of Cecil and Beatrice Kilgore
Originally it had only 4 rooms.
Presently it has 8 rooms.

The following photographs are the old Virge and Sarah Kilgore country farm.  The property in these pictures is the front acreage of the old home place that Daddy signed over to me.  The back portion of the land belongs to my brother, Mike Kilgore.

Off of Winston Co. Rd. 21, this is the driving
entrance to the Virge and Sarah Kilgore home site

Woods taken from the dirt road on to the property

Dirt road entrance on the old homestead

Tagged wire gate on road entrance
 recently put up by cousin, Jimmy Kilgore
next to a no trespass sign

Dirt road ends into a big field going to the house

Field which has been bush hogged
and a portion cut with a riding lawn mower  ready
for winter

The 100 year old house of Virge and Sarah Kilgore.
9 children were reared in this small home.

The chimney side of the old house build
by Virge Kilgore

Front view of the old Kilgore home place

The early morning sun is shining on the front porch
of the old house as you see a panoramic view of
the blacksmith shop and the old barn shaded by two
enormous oak trees.

Petunias blooming in November
near the foundation of the old house's front porch.
Originally the house foundation
was open and supported by large rocks like those in the chimney
on the ends and ever so often under the support beams.
All wood in the house was from the land and made into lumber
at the hands of  Papa Kilgore.

Two big trees overshadow the barn structures

Small Shed on the property used for a garage and
also for a storage area

Originally this structure was a small barn but was
mainly used as a blacksmith shed.

The early morning sun beams through the trees and unto
the large barn in the distance

A front view of the blacksmith shop

A large back field behind the large barn.  The very back
portion of the field belongs to my brother, Mike.
He bush hogged the field for winter.
 Our cousin, Jimmy Kilgore has a deer stand
on the edge of the field.

The woods next to the back field.
As a child we use to raise corn in the field,  and also
watermellons, and peas.

From the back field, this is a back side view
of the barn.

The old barn has been used for storage for some time.

Inside the old barn

Taken from the barn, this view is of the two big oak
trees and the blacksmith shop and the old house
in the distance.

The oak tree branches span  across the yard between the
house and the barn.  There use to be a bigger
oak tree next to the house, but a portion of it fell
on the ground a few years ago.  Presently, all that is
remaining is the trunk 

 Front roof line of the barn 

Side view of the old house.

Side view of the front portion of the old house

Side roof line of the old house

This view is taken from the field
behind the old house looking toward the
barn and the larger back field with a panoramic view
of the woods circling the back field.

This is an outhouse built on the property when
we started having Kilgore Cousins' reunions there.

A panoramic view taken from the back
side of the front field to capture the
trees and house from a different angle.

This completes our visual tour of a special place which holds multiple memories for all the Kilgore cousins as well as for me.  My mother, brothers, sister and I are privileged to be the overseer  of such a special place.  Things are changing in the area.  Coal companies have bought up land near by and are strip mining.  There are evidences all around us of their venture.   Large machinery is coming in to the change the face of  the land.  Timber is being cut.  The land is being cleared.  Strip mining is the ultimate result.  Winston County Road 21 is heavily traveled with coal trunks and lumber trunks going back and forth.  The road has not been paved in years and is in need of major repairs.  At one time I counted approximately 90 pot holes from Poplar Springs to my mother's home.  There is dust everywhere.  This does not paint a picture of a land at rest, does it?   I am grateful that I can feature the land of my fathers as an oasis in contrast to the incredible negative affects of industry moving in.   May it always remain so--sweet home, Alabama.

Johnny Kilgore 

MY DADDY, CECIL KILGORE & CLOTHES

It is astonishing how we associate clothes with a person, especially someone who is dear to us.  All manufactured clothes come from a supplier and are displayed in stores with no attachments to people.  They are there for anyone to purchase.  But after clothes receive an owner, they become personal property and a part of the identity of the person who owns them.  This is so evident when, after the death of people we love, we deal with, in some fashion, the importance of their clothes.  A perfect example of this occurred around the time of my daddy’s death in April of this year. 

A week before Daddy’s death in April of 2012, I was visiting my parents, which I did more frequently since my retirement.  When I visited by myself, I usually arrived in time for breakfast.  For this particular visit, I had left Birmingham very early on a chilly spring morning that required some kind of jacket.  I had recently purchased from Wal-Mart a plaid jacket with a hood, for the ridiculously low sale price of three dollars—quite a bargain!  It served its purpose well that morning, keeping me warm as I left my home before daybreak.

When I arrived at parents’ house, we had our hugs and greetings, and then I took my warm jacket off, and placed it in a chair against the wall next to the piano.  We had a wonderful breakfast as always, and then I helped Mother with the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen.  Daddy returned to his easy chair in the living room.  Eventually, I went into the living room and sat on one end of the couch opposite Daddy.  We did our usual small talk while Mother went to the back part of the house to get ready for a doctor’s appointment in Jasper.  During my conversation with Daddy, I got up from the couch and went to the chair where I had placed my new Wal-Mart jacket.  Bringing the jacket to Daddy’s chair, I proudly showed him my new purchase.

He loved the jacket and could not believe I got it for just three dollars!  He was truly impressed.  Personally, I don’t know if he was more impressed with the jacket, or with the price.  Daddy was always a bargain hunter.  He liked the jacket so much that I offered it to him as a gift.  In true Cecil Kilgore fashion, he told me he did not want to take my jacket.  I explained that I had also purchased another coat at the same time, and didn’t really need two.  He still would not accept the jacket.  Instead, as Mother came into the room, the first thing Daddy said was, “Beat, I want you to go by Wal-Mart and buy me a jacket like Johnny’s!”

Daddy and I had a good day together while Mother was gone, as we talked about different things.  I cherish those talks. I can’t remember all the things we talked about, but it was on that occasion that Daddy shared with me about the bronze foot marker he wanted on his grave.  He shared at length what he wanted the marker to say.  He wanted me to take care of it when he died.  He said the Veterans Administration would furnish the marker at no charge because of his service in the army during World War II.  I wrote down on a small piece of paper what Daddy wanted on the marker. Then I carefully placed the slip of paper into my billfold. I could not have believed that day that it would be very soon that I would be taking that paper out and doing just what Daddy had charged me to do.

When Mother returned that afternoon from Jasper, without a plaid jacket from Wal-Mart, she told Daddy that she did not see any jackets on sale.  I stayed around a little longer that afternoon, so I could also have some time with Mother.  When it was time to leave, I told them that I would plan to be back the following Tuesday.  Before I left, as I said goodbye to Daddy, I said, “ I’m going to leave you the jacket.”  He accepted.  As we said our goodbyes, Mother said, “Don’t forget your jacket.”   Daddy responded, “Johnny is going to leave it here for me.”  As I went out the door, I assured him again that I had purchased another one, and did not need the jacket, and that I would see him next week. 

I returned the following Tuesday to visit my parents, and the jacket was still lying in the chair where I left it the previous week.  We had a good visit that day, but a short one, because I was traveling from Nauvoo to Oneonta, Alabama to begin a singing tour with the Alabama Singing Men.  (I have been a member of this organization, made up of Ministers of Music from Baptist churches throughout the state, since its creation in 1973.) The tour was to begin on that Tuesday in Oneonta, and continue through Thursday, with the final concert being at Central Baptist Church in Decatur, Alabama.  Immediately after that final concert in Decatur, I had a voicemail on my cell phone.  It was from my brother, Ricky, asking me to call him.  There in the parking lot of Central Baptist Church, I returned the call. When I got Ricky, he simply and sadly told me that Daddy had passed away.  Perhaps never before had I had such a feeling of disbelief.

The family was all meeting at Mother’s for the night.  Since I was in Decatur, I went directly to Nauvoo from there without going home to Birmingham.   It was long and sad drive.  Upon arriving at Mother’s, it was evident that she had been surrounded by family, friends and neighbors who were all at the house.

During the next two days, we made the arrangements for Daddy’s funeral, which would be held on the coming Sunday. After everything settled down, and we had time to reflect, I noticed the plaid jacket in the chair where I had left it.  A week after Daddy’s funeral, I took the jacket, as it had become a kind of symbol of those last days with my dad. 

During these chilly fall days, I proudly wear my plaid jacket, purchased from a Wal-Mart sale rack. It still serves as a memory of my father and I wish so much that he was here to wear and enjoy the plaid jacket he had liked so much. Whether it was bought for three dollars or one hundred and three dollars, the jacket is worth more than any amount of money to me now.

During the first month after Daddy’s death, we took all his clothes and stored them in the upper house that Mother and Daddy owned.  A few weeks ago, on Friday, October 26, 2012, Mother and I took them to Main Street Ministries in Double Springs, Alabama, where they can offer them to the less fortunate. I was grateful that Daddy’s clothes went to a good cause. 

Front Entrance to Main Street Ministries
Double Springs, Alabama

Workers at Main Street Ministries
(From left to right)
Dorothy, Jim, and Jewell

Daddy would have been pleased that they are available for the people of Winston County, where he worked for so long.  But giving those clothes away was an emotional and difficult thing to do.  Many of our Kilgore cousins have had to experience those same emotions because all the children of Virge and Sarah Kilgore are now gone.  Everyone grieves differently, yet all things are in common.  Such is the importance we place on our loved ones’ things—especially, their clothes.

Johnny Kilgore

EDITED COMMENTS:
I just heard from Daddy's oldest grandson, Shane Kilgore in response to this posting just a few hours after my initial post.  I thought it would be appropriate to edit the article with Shane's thoughts and a picture he send me.

Hey Johnny I read your blog about the jacket. I loved it I just wanted to share this picture of papas jacket that Mema gave me. I have not even worn it yet I don't want to mess it up it's the only thing I have that belonged to him. I believe it was his army jacket can you confirm that for me. I love him and miss him. 

Shane Kilgore

I wrote Shane back in appreciation and told him that it was a great looking jacket.  Also, told him I wasn't familiar with the jacket because Daddy had so many clothes.

  

CECIL W. KILGORE'S STATUE OF THE NAKED LADY

As a child growing up in a rural environment, we accepted with simplicity the things of nature, the things of family, the things of God, and the things of life in general.   That time was the 1940’s and the 1950’s. The place was a rural country setting, five miles from Nauvoo, Alabama. 

Money was scarce, but love abounded.  Meals were simple. Food came from what was raised on the farm, sprinkled with a few rations from the government, and some staples purchased from a local grocery store.  Clothes were hand- made by a loving mother—shirts made out of flower sacks and blue jeans purchased from the Jasper Fair Store.  Life was the same for everyone during those struggling, but happy days.

We were a Godly, conservative family who worked hard and played hard.  Our playmates were more than friends.  They were our first cousins.  My dad was so conservative and strict that he did not allow playing cards in the house.  He also did not permit movie theater attendance, nor social functions when the locations were questionable.  My dad did not swear or curse.  He did not smoke, nor did he drink.  He lived to a very high standard.  Self- control and discipline were at the very fiber of my daddy’s being.  He was clean- cut and reliable—steadfast and sure.  He also instilled and enforced strict discipline in us.  He was a perfect example of a good man in every sense of the word.  He was of the highest character. 

I say all that to say this:  There was a statue of a naked lady in our home!  Having such a statue certainly did not fit the picture of my dad as I have described him.!  He would not have permitted any “girly” magazines or any questionable pictures.  Then why the naked lady standing erect and tall on her tip toes, pointing her hands to the heavens as she propped open our front door?   We always made fun of the statue of the lady.   But as we grew older, we understood that art statues typically are showing the beauty of the human form. At the same time, when the pastor visited us, the statue of a lady was quickly removed from the living room to a place out of sight.  I am sure it was out of respect, or maybe we just did not want him to think any less of us.  Thinking back on it, it is humorous remembering how we scurried about hiding the white, little naked lady.  This still does not answer the question of why the statue was part of our home’s décor.    

This is how it all came about.  When Daddy graduated from Winston County High School in 1940, he went to Birmingham to find work. During that time, he lived with his sister Ruby and her husband, Johnny Chadwick.  Daddy got a job at Continental Gin Company, located at 4500 5^th Avenue, South in Birmingham, Alabama 35222.  (Of course, back then there was no zip code indicated the area of the city.) 

Old Photograph of Continental Gin during its prime

Continental Gin was located in the East Avondale area of the city where US 78 intersects 5^th Avenue, South.  The company was extremely large, having multiple structures on 170 acres of land.  It was an industrial facility with a major presence in the city.  It was founded in 1925 and was going strong in the 40’s because it was an authorized, federally funded facility during World War II.  The company’s original business was that of making cotton ginning machinery.  But during the war, the company produced rocket bodies for the Navy, and also fuses and projectiles.   Daddy’s first job was working in the foundry of Continental Gin.   

  

(As a side note, Continental Gin is no more.  The Continental Gin property is presently on the National Registery of Historic Places (1980) and is an industrial park for industry, processing and extraction.  It also has 14 different structures.  I have included some photographs of the buildings in their present condition.)

Present Site Sign

Hill Building (main building next to US 78)

Breeze Way Entrance to the Plant

Open Building in back portion of property

Building K

Building J

Side View of multiple sections of old Continental Gin

Inner Core of the old facility with multiple buildings

Building F next to Parking Lot
Sign directions to the 14 different buildings

Front building and ramp from the Parking lot

In March 1942, Daddy married my mother, Beatrice Manasco .  Daddy was still working at Continental Gin.  He and Mother moved into a rented duplex house in Eastlake, near 77^th Street and off of First Avenue, North.  Daddy was deferred by the military because his employment at Continental Gin was considered strategic to the war effort. 

Because Daddy was developing sinus problems working in the foundry, the company transferred him from the foundry building to the machine shop plant.  But before Daddy left the foundry, he cast in iron, a statue-- a nymph—the naked lady looking up toward heaven with hands and arms raised high.  To keep the statue from rusting, it was painted white.   The city of Birmingham, Alabama had its fifty-six foot cast-iron statue, Vulcan, and Cecil Kilgore had his twenty-six and half inch cast-iron statue, the naked lady.

As my daddy continued working and breathing the polluted air of Continental Gin and of  the city itself, his sinuses grew worse and worse.  His doctor advised him that in order to get better he must change settings.  That meant quitting his job at Continental Gin and leaving Birmingham to return to Nauvoo, Alabama.

Daddy did just that.  Mother and Daddy moved into a small four room house across the hollow from the place where he was reared.  It was in that small frame house that I was born in December 1944.  My mother still lives in that same house, although it has been renovated and some rooms have been added.  Because Daddy had returned to the farm, he was no longer in an occupation were he would be deferred from serving during the war.  He was drafted in 1945, soon after I was born.  World War II ended about the same time he completing his basic training.  Daddy was honorably discharged, not having to go over seas. 

The only token of Daddy’s life and work in the city before he was married, started a family, and served his country, is the white, little naked lady.  It is an example of 1940’s statuary, but it is more than that to me.  It is a special art piece that my daddy made. 

What has happened to the naked lady statue?  A few years ago, Daddy gave it to me.  I had planned to repair a missing hand and to make it look new with a fresh coat of white paint.  My efforts were not successful, so the statue went to the basement, hidden away.

Recently, I posted on our Kilgore Cousins blog about two clocks that were in the Kilgore family—a Little Ben clock owned by Daddy’s brother, Johnie Kilgore, and a Big Ben clock owned by Daddy’s sister, Sis Kilgore Romans.  In response to that post, my first cousin, Joe McKeever, e-mailed me about his remembrance of the naked lady statue in our home during his growing up years.  I wrote him back, telling him that the statue was in my possession and that I planned to refurbish it.  As a result of that exchange, I went to work a few weeks ago on the lady that adorned our living room during my childhood.  I now can say that little naked lady is restored to her former glory, all thirty-one pounds of her.  I share with you some photographs of her taken from various angles.

 

The statue was the object of laughter when we were children.   The statue was an object of embarrassment as a teenager.  The statue was an object to be forgotten as a young adult.  As a senior adult, the statue has become an object of value, not for its vintage artistic worth which I do appreciate, but simply because of who made it.  It now proudly serves as a doorstop in the den at our house.  My wife is trying to adjust….and I anticipate interesting reactions when the kids come home for Christmas! 

Johnny Kilgore