Sometimes when things are quite and I am alone with the melancholy feelings that seem to dwell inside of me, I like to just let my feelings and my mind wander back in time. I put myself in another era with thoughts and memories of what was or what might have been, or what if? I realize that I can’t change anything with this line of thought, but I like to try to understand the past to help better prepare and understand the present and the future.

I have been listening to some tapes I recorded with my cousin, Bob Sutton, Lillie, Colleen, Patsy Vernon and others. I love to hear of the old days and let my mind form mental images of the events being talked about. It is really great to hear the stories and events unfold in their own words. I know! I am a romantic and a bit of oddball person to boot, but I still like all of it.

I can sit at my house in Lurton, in the yard or beside the house and watch the sun sink slowly over the hill and just listen. What do I hear? If I relax and free my mind of the stressful things, I can hear Lurton! I can hear the chatter of people in the old store and Post Office, the laughter of the playful and sometimes mischievous youth. I can hear the sound of the old jukebox in Uncle Mitchell’s dance hall, the arguments of the young men and boys, vying for the attention of a pretty young girl. The brags of the ego stricken young men. I can picture the romantic nights with the nice crisp air. I can see how someone could fall in love and be stricken by the lovely glow of the mountain girls with their flirty laughter.

Those times in their lives were so carefree and warm for the ones they were close to. The tingle, the electricity, and chemical reaction can be felt on this beautiful fall evening.

The smell of wood burning in the stoves and fireplaces drifts through the air…this crisp air that makes a jacket feel good. Late in the evening the sound carries so well, I can hear voices from far away. I hear dogs barking every now and then as they give the moon or something else their attention. I can even hear the squeal of a pig as another nips it as they nestle in their beds. Yes, that happens. If you have ever been around pigs you know that they get hard to get along with at times…much like people.

Sitting around the wood stove in the hotel, I can picture some of the men that are staying there as they are telling their tales. The tales of their marksmanship, skills as a hunter, their quality surveyor skills, or their woodsmanship or any of the many things that men like to brag about. I can here the tale of the big buck that got away and of some that did not get away. Yes, they do have some good times before retiring for bed at night. After listening to Ted Tatro’s stories about the Hotel, it is easier to visualize the men there.

The nice aroma of food that was cooked for supper still touches the rooms that joins the kitchen. My Aunt Josie would have cooked up one of her great meals that she was well known for. The aroma blended with the light smell of wood burning sets the scene for a nice comfortable evening. At times when there was something special on the radio, they would be glued to the speaker to absorb the news or even the Grand ‘Ole Opera. These times, of the post depression days, still bear the results of the hard times. People were more conservative and careful of their natural resources, as well as their money. We are now in the days of electricity, as Lurton had the electricity turned on the day I was born, September 23, 1940. I can picture the single bulb that hung on a drop cord in front of the stairs. Even now I can see that drop cord hanging there.

Next door on some evenings, the sound of the jukebox from uncle Mitchell’s dance hall would fill the air. There would be a couple dancing as they moved smoothly around the floor. The sound of the music, the atmosphere, the fall evening and night all work together to make the feelings flow between the couple. These cool nights work like magic to bring a couple close together. Of course sometimes the beer that was sold did not mix well with the jealousy that would be felt by some. Some of the young men and even some of the girls would have disagreements and even, at times erupt into a fight. But usually it would blow over and most would remain friends.

During the working days, there would be much movement early of the morning as people were up and moving towards getting a breakfast cooked, eaten and the men would move on to the jobs that awaited them. Many worked at Grand Dad Sutton’s handle factory, the sawmills or in the timber. As they each had a job to do, they worked diligently to fulfill their obligations. Most people of this era were dedicated, hard working people with a family to support and they took their jobs seriously.

The women all had a routine of their own. On some days they would have a wash pot filled with water and a wood fire burning around it an they prepared to do the wash. The cloths were washed and hung out to dry in the fresh sweet smelling mountain air. The work is hard, as many still don’t have washing machines at this time. During the between times the chore of doing the housework was carried out with care. Most everyone seemed to be particular about his or her homes. The ladies always took pride in their skills as wives, mothers and homemakers.

Some times as the women would prepare their bread to rise for the evening meal, you could smell that sweet appetizing aroma of yeast bread, especially as it was cooking. The aroma was just heavenly in nature. I have some fond memories of my own, as a young boy in Lurton visiting. My aunt, Yvonne Dickey Sutton, has planted a memory in my mind that will never go away. I can clearly remember the smell of her cooking yeast rolls in their home on the hill above Granddad Sutton’s home. For some strange reason…maybe I was just hungry, I can remember very well how her rolls smelled. And Yes, I did get to eat some of them with butter and they were indescribably delicious. That memory is so vivid that it is like yesterday. The aroma drifted all over Lurton and was so great!

The factory was in full swing as the day was easing along. The old steam engine and the Belt line that ran the distance of the factory had a distinctive sound. You could hear the belt as it bounced slightly, making the whomp, whomp sounds with a little squeaking of the pulleys as the belt ran over them mixed with a little resin for belt dressing. As the side belts were slipped on and off the blocks by the levers, the saws, sanders and drills would be put into play. There would be the scream of the saw blades as they cut through the wood.

The smell of the lacquer, that was used to dip the handles and ball bats, was strong and even smelled good at first until you were around it for a while. Then it would be a bit strong. I can even see the strings of lacquer as it dripped off the ends of the wood pieces as it dried and hardened into semi hard wads. I can remember pulling off pieces of the hardened lacquer and pulling and feeling of it.

There would be the sounds of trucks moving in and out in the distance and even the sound of a bull dozer running while moving logs and dragging equipment. There was even the slap of lumber being stacked in the criss cross stacks and in piles.

When the steam whistle from the factory would blow, the men that lived close by headed home to get a good hot meal that was prepared for them. Others would have their lunch packed and with them. They would sit and eat and visit until time to start back to work.

At times some of the women would meet at the Post Office about the time for the mail to come. They would take this opportunity to visit, gossip and check their mail. Getting letters was a highlight of their day, sometimes. At times, they would have to wait while Grandma Sutton sorted the mail and put it in the boxes, but this did give them a bit more time to catch up on the talk around the area.

I heard one store that took place during such a gathering at the Post Office. My grandma Smith was at the Post Office and there was a lady with a small child in there. This child, which was supposed to be old enough to know better, was whining and bawling, with the lady ignoring the child. Grandma, after awhile, had enough and told the woman, "Why don’t you whip that kid?" The Woman said, " Why, I couldn’t do that." Grandma told her, "Then give him to me and I will do it." Grandma was a pretty strict person and she said pretty well what she thought.

While I am sitting here and listening to Lurton and hearing what it has to say to me, I can have a pretty vivid imagination. The Store and Post Office was a good gathering place for lots of people during the early years. But as you step in the store its self, there was a nice aroma when the bologna was being sliced. The old style stick Bologna had a very distinctive smell. And it tasted as good as it smelled. A big slice of that with a few crackers and a bottle of pop was great. This is another memory that has remained through the years. Speaking of Pop, I can remember a peach flavored drink that was very good. And the old Nehi drinks were all very good.

There were canned goods, milk, meat, staple goods and candy and ice cream. They had many little things that were needed to keep the household running around there. There were many things in the store, but of course there were things needed that would have to come out of Russellville sometimes, as the store could not stock everything.

Well, this is about all for tonight of my sentimental journey back in time at Lurton. I do have some of these very feelings, as I walk around outside and let my mind wander back through the years. I have had many more thoughts about the old days and can even visualize lots of the things that took place there, but will have to think on that another time. Right now just let yourself stop long enough to listen and touch the past. It is there and is a good place to visit. We don’t have to stay there, but let’s not lose contact with it. My, we are all here because of the past, and even though it was not all good, it certainly was not all bad. We are here aren’t we?

Each of you have a great day, or night and remember to remember. I think all of you are special in your own special way. Thanks for your friendship, love and concern.

Love, Lloyd

Memories from the perspective of Lloyd Sutton...Lloyd, Thank You for sharing!