| 1920's FORSYTH COUNTY HOME AND POORHOUSE INFORMATION |
| Mrs. J.W. Craft, matron of the Forsyth County Home |
| Misses Polly Hall and Ellen Jenkins Patients in County Home |
October 17, 1926
Winston-Salem Journal
INMATES OF COUNTY HOME ARE HAPPY, COMFORTABLE GROUP OF HUMAN BEINGS
Beaming Faces Show That It Isn't Money That Bring Happiness
THEY’RE CONTENTED
Smiles Come Through Infirmities of Age
(By Callie Belle Turner)
Do you ever feel discouraged and blue? Think you are a failure and brood unhappily over it? Are you envying the other fellow who seems more fortunate
than you? It is not money that brings happiness. The beaming aces of the inmates at the Forsyth County Home for the Aged and Infirm are proof of this.
These old people haven’t all the things we moderns wish for, yet they have the essential requisites for contentment and happiness. They have a
comfortable, clean place to stay. Their rooms are cleaned by the girls of the reformatory, superintended by Mrs. Hill, an efficient newcomer to the home.
They have plenty to eat, for not only do they have the county allowance, but the 300 acre farm, under the supervision of J.W. Craft produces abundantly;
they have all the milk they can drink, too. Nor is that all, they are like one big family; each has the friendship of the other inmates and of folks on the
outside. Last and greatest---they have Mrs. J.W. Craft. She is truly the “heart” of this institution. To her they come with their petty ills and troubles; to her,
too, they go to share their joys.
They are Good Teachers: “I learned from these dear old people every day”, Mrs. Craft said to visitors, before ushering them into “Aunt Tina’s” room.
Aunt Tina is a very cheerful invalid, her eyes sparkle and her face glows as she talks with visitors. She has been abed eleven years with a broken spine.
Talking with her one might think she has gone to bed with a slight headache, so well does she keep the story of her aches and pains to herself. When
asked how she was, Aunt Tina replied cheerfully that she was “alright”—would you if you had been in bed eleven years? Aunt Tina is a staunch Moravian
and has hosts of friends to bring her magazines and sweets. In speaking of the Home she said “There’s not a better place on earth.”
Aunt Tina’s roommate, Mrs. Waggoner , loves the country and country life; she delights in the view from the window of woods, green fields and a glorious
sky. She evidently believes there is always work for idle hands, for she has tufted three rugs in two weeks, and is pictured above with one she is finishing.
Mrs. Waggoner also tufts bedspreads and knits laces, and charges very low prices for such work. Her patterns, she said, come “out of her head”. She
just starts off and works away; yet the finished article is one of even lines, a correctly proportioned pattern.
Friendly Chat: Across the hall four old ladies had gathered in Mrs. Hanes room for a friendly chat. Mrs. Craft asked why they were not playing cards,
saying that the game was formerly one of their favorite pastimes. Mrs. Hanes enlightened her, “ Well, you see, sometimes we’d have right good games,
and we all enjoyed them. Then we got in the habit of saying, ‘Here I set with nothing’when we’d get a bad hand. One night we were in here playing and
Molly had dealt. I got a bad hand. ‘Well, here I set with nothing’ I said. Molly got mad. ‘I guess you think I did that on purpose,’ she said. I said, ‘No, I just
said that in fun, but if we can’t play cards without getting mad this is my last hand.’
We all agreed to quit and we did. They were my cards and I gave them away.”
Mrs. Manuel added, “There’s where the sin of card playing comes in. Tain’t no harm to play cards when its all taken in good spirit, but when players get
mad sometimes they do things they are sorry of and there’s where the sin comes in.”
Mrs. Manuel, who is seventy-six, admitted that she was a “very good dancer,” then followed the story of how another woman at the Home had laughed at
her when she danced two years ago “and I ain’t danced none since,” she said. Mrs. Manuel is the “Good Samaritan” of the Home, and has taken a three-
mile walk several times recently to visit a sick friend, a former inmate of the Home. She also grows flowers which she gives to sick folks and friends. She
pieces quilts beautifully too, and is seen above with her quilt and flowers.
The narrator of the card story, Mrs. Hanes, is an interesting conversationalist, and, except for the “sore” on her nose, you would think her perfectly
healthy. She does not tell you, nor do you suspect, that beside the cancer on her face, she has another on her ankle and a tumor too; that it is necessary
for her to take a grain of morphine every hour to ease the pain. Understand she is no dope fiend, the nurse administers it to her to relieve the awful
suffering.
Other callers in Mrs. Hanes room were Misses Polly Hall and Ellen Jenkins , two old maids and proud of it.
Aunt Nancy Loved: A lovable little old silver-haired lady is “Aunt Nancy” Ledford. Aunt Nancy dearly loved having her picture taken, but was a little
disappointed that it was over so soon.
In the sunshine on the side steps Mr. Yonson worked busily on his latest invention, pausing a moment to pose for his picture. Then he took the visitors into
his freshly clean room to inspect his inventions. A gentle and smiling Scot is Mr. Yonson, but back of his smile is a story of inventions rejected and
ambitions disappointed.
Down the hall is one of the home’s youngest inmates, ---a man in his twenties stricken with creeping paralysis. He is a high school and business school
graduate who could ably care for himself were it not for his pititful affliction.
In a freshly cleaned and aired room Mrs. Craft went up to the back from over a hoary head, spoke to the ancient man, “Mr. Sweitzer?’
The eyes did not open.
“Mr. Sweitzer are you asleep.”
A negative grunt was the reply.
“I believe you are possoming aren’t you?” Mrs. Craft asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“You have lots of time to sleep, won’t you talk to the ladies now?”
“Uh-huh.”
Mr. Sweitzer do you want me to go away and leave you alone?”
“Uh-huh.” He murmured sleepily.
She laughed softly as she drew the covers over the old man, his tobacco, a pear and a magazine he had carried to bed with him. Mr. Sweitzer is 102 years
old, his feet were struck by lightening several years ago. He is very gentle and usually so talkative, but he had just had his bath and want to sleep while he
felt so clean and good. Incidentally, Mr. Sweitzer is very fond of candy, and always insists on dividing it with Mrs. Craft.
Colored Home: The Colored Home is in charge of Nurse Daisy Teer, a graduate nurse, who takes excellent care of her patients. In this home there are a
few old folks who remember well the days of slavery, and tell proudly to what prominent families they belonged. One of these, Granny Alspaugh
is not forgotten by her former “white folks.” She took her first automobile ride. When asked how she liked it she said, “Fine” Only I’d like more of it.”
Another former slave couldn’t remember much to tell, and couldn’t talk much, but in the room with her was Hattie Foster and she talked enough for both. “I
was a Baptist preacher’s wife,” said Hattie. “And I had to talk to folks and entertain them.”
“You are like the wife in the son, ‘The Preacher Man’ then aren’t you?” asked one visitor, and she repeated for Hattie the chorus of the song.
Uncle Jake Happy: Uncle Jake, the blind man, was asked to tell the visitors how he liked being blind, and he slowly began, “Well Mistresses, I don’t like it so
much, but since it is the Lord’s will I can stand it. It was awful hard at first, not being able to see and know things, but you know if you love and fear the
Lord you can bear lots o’ things. After all He makes up to you in other ways. He makes the other four senses stronger so you don’ miss the fifth too
much. Now I know most of the things that are goin’ on around me, and I loves the Lord, so I am happy, yes’m I’m happy,”
The visitors expressed their pleasure at his attitude toward life and turned to leave the room. Uncle Jake held out his hand, “Mistiss,” he said, “Would you
give me a nickel?”
“Will a dime do just as well?” they asked, placing the coin in his hand.
“Praise be the Lord!” Uncle Jake exclaimed.
The forty-five inmates of the two Forsyth County Homes enjoy visitors—not the kind that come through and look at them with curious eyes as watching
caged animals in a circus, but visitors who treat them as the human individuals that they are. Small wonder then that they adore Mrs. Craft. She humors
their every whim in so far as she is able. It is she who sees the Mrs Waggoner has foundations for her rugs, Mrs. Manuel slips of plants to root and nurse,
and Mr. Yonson bits of wood to whittle for his experiments; it is she who sees that they are all well covered before she retires at night. Their smiles are
her greatest rewards for service well done. To her, in love, are bequeathed such treasures as handmade axe handles, baskets and unfinished quilts when
their owners pass away.
Winston-Salem Journal
INMATES OF COUNTY HOME ARE HAPPY, COMFORTABLE GROUP OF HUMAN BEINGS
Beaming Faces Show That It Isn't Money That Bring Happiness
THEY’RE CONTENTED
Smiles Come Through Infirmities of Age
(By Callie Belle Turner)
Do you ever feel discouraged and blue? Think you are a failure and brood unhappily over it? Are you envying the other fellow who seems more fortunate
than you? It is not money that brings happiness. The beaming aces of the inmates at the Forsyth County Home for the Aged and Infirm are proof of this.
These old people haven’t all the things we moderns wish for, yet they have the essential requisites for contentment and happiness. They have a
comfortable, clean place to stay. Their rooms are cleaned by the girls of the reformatory, superintended by Mrs. Hill, an efficient newcomer to the home.
They have plenty to eat, for not only do they have the county allowance, but the 300 acre farm, under the supervision of J.W. Craft produces abundantly;
they have all the milk they can drink, too. Nor is that all, they are like one big family; each has the friendship of the other inmates and of folks on the
outside. Last and greatest---they have Mrs. J.W. Craft. She is truly the “heart” of this institution. To her they come with their petty ills and troubles; to her,
too, they go to share their joys.
They are Good Teachers: “I learned from these dear old people every day”, Mrs. Craft said to visitors, before ushering them into “Aunt Tina’s” room.
Aunt Tina is a very cheerful invalid, her eyes sparkle and her face glows as she talks with visitors. She has been abed eleven years with a broken spine.
Talking with her one might think she has gone to bed with a slight headache, so well does she keep the story of her aches and pains to herself. When
asked how she was, Aunt Tina replied cheerfully that she was “alright”—would you if you had been in bed eleven years? Aunt Tina is a staunch Moravian
and has hosts of friends to bring her magazines and sweets. In speaking of the Home she said “There’s not a better place on earth.”
Aunt Tina’s roommate, Mrs. Waggoner , loves the country and country life; she delights in the view from the window of woods, green fields and a glorious
sky. She evidently believes there is always work for idle hands, for she has tufted three rugs in two weeks, and is pictured above with one she is finishing.
Mrs. Waggoner also tufts bedspreads and knits laces, and charges very low prices for such work. Her patterns, she said, come “out of her head”. She
just starts off and works away; yet the finished article is one of even lines, a correctly proportioned pattern.
Friendly Chat: Across the hall four old ladies had gathered in Mrs. Hanes room for a friendly chat. Mrs. Craft asked why they were not playing cards,
saying that the game was formerly one of their favorite pastimes. Mrs. Hanes enlightened her, “ Well, you see, sometimes we’d have right good games,
and we all enjoyed them. Then we got in the habit of saying, ‘Here I set with nothing’when we’d get a bad hand. One night we were in here playing and
Molly had dealt. I got a bad hand. ‘Well, here I set with nothing’ I said. Molly got mad. ‘I guess you think I did that on purpose,’ she said. I said, ‘No, I just
said that in fun, but if we can’t play cards without getting mad this is my last hand.’
We all agreed to quit and we did. They were my cards and I gave them away.”
Mrs. Manuel added, “There’s where the sin of card playing comes in. Tain’t no harm to play cards when its all taken in good spirit, but when players get
mad sometimes they do things they are sorry of and there’s where the sin comes in.”
Mrs. Manuel, who is seventy-six, admitted that she was a “very good dancer,” then followed the story of how another woman at the Home had laughed at
her when she danced two years ago “and I ain’t danced none since,” she said. Mrs. Manuel is the “Good Samaritan” of the Home, and has taken a three-
mile walk several times recently to visit a sick friend, a former inmate of the Home. She also grows flowers which she gives to sick folks and friends. She
pieces quilts beautifully too, and is seen above with her quilt and flowers.
The narrator of the card story, Mrs. Hanes, is an interesting conversationalist, and, except for the “sore” on her nose, you would think her perfectly
healthy. She does not tell you, nor do you suspect, that beside the cancer on her face, she has another on her ankle and a tumor too; that it is necessary
for her to take a grain of morphine every hour to ease the pain. Understand she is no dope fiend, the nurse administers it to her to relieve the awful
suffering.
Other callers in Mrs. Hanes room were Misses Polly Hall and Ellen Jenkins , two old maids and proud of it.
Aunt Nancy Loved: A lovable little old silver-haired lady is “Aunt Nancy” Ledford. Aunt Nancy dearly loved having her picture taken, but was a little
disappointed that it was over so soon.
In the sunshine on the side steps Mr. Yonson worked busily on his latest invention, pausing a moment to pose for his picture. Then he took the visitors into
his freshly clean room to inspect his inventions. A gentle and smiling Scot is Mr. Yonson, but back of his smile is a story of inventions rejected and
ambitions disappointed.
Down the hall is one of the home’s youngest inmates, ---a man in his twenties stricken with creeping paralysis. He is a high school and business school
graduate who could ably care for himself were it not for his pititful affliction.
In a freshly cleaned and aired room Mrs. Craft went up to the back from over a hoary head, spoke to the ancient man, “Mr. Sweitzer?’
The eyes did not open.
“Mr. Sweitzer are you asleep.”
A negative grunt was the reply.
“I believe you are possoming aren’t you?” Mrs. Craft asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“You have lots of time to sleep, won’t you talk to the ladies now?”
“Uh-huh.”
Mr. Sweitzer do you want me to go away and leave you alone?”
“Uh-huh.” He murmured sleepily.
She laughed softly as she drew the covers over the old man, his tobacco, a pear and a magazine he had carried to bed with him. Mr. Sweitzer is 102 years
old, his feet were struck by lightening several years ago. He is very gentle and usually so talkative, but he had just had his bath and want to sleep while he
felt so clean and good. Incidentally, Mr. Sweitzer is very fond of candy, and always insists on dividing it with Mrs. Craft.
Colored Home: The Colored Home is in charge of Nurse Daisy Teer, a graduate nurse, who takes excellent care of her patients. In this home there are a
few old folks who remember well the days of slavery, and tell proudly to what prominent families they belonged. One of these, Granny Alspaugh
is not forgotten by her former “white folks.” She took her first automobile ride. When asked how she liked it she said, “Fine” Only I’d like more of it.”
Another former slave couldn’t remember much to tell, and couldn’t talk much, but in the room with her was Hattie Foster and she talked enough for both. “I
was a Baptist preacher’s wife,” said Hattie. “And I had to talk to folks and entertain them.”
“You are like the wife in the son, ‘The Preacher Man’ then aren’t you?” asked one visitor, and she repeated for Hattie the chorus of the song.
Uncle Jake Happy: Uncle Jake, the blind man, was asked to tell the visitors how he liked being blind, and he slowly began, “Well Mistresses, I don’t like it so
much, but since it is the Lord’s will I can stand it. It was awful hard at first, not being able to see and know things, but you know if you love and fear the
Lord you can bear lots o’ things. After all He makes up to you in other ways. He makes the other four senses stronger so you don’ miss the fifth too
much. Now I know most of the things that are goin’ on around me, and I loves the Lord, so I am happy, yes’m I’m happy,”
The visitors expressed their pleasure at his attitude toward life and turned to leave the room. Uncle Jake held out his hand, “Mistiss,” he said, “Would you
give me a nickel?”
“Will a dime do just as well?” they asked, placing the coin in his hand.
“Praise be the Lord!” Uncle Jake exclaimed.
The forty-five inmates of the two Forsyth County Homes enjoy visitors—not the kind that come through and look at them with curious eyes as watching
caged animals in a circus, but visitors who treat them as the human individuals that they are. Small wonder then that they adore Mrs. Craft. She humors
their every whim in so far as she is able. It is she who sees the Mrs Waggoner has foundations for her rugs, Mrs. Manuel slips of plants to root and nurse,
and Mr. Yonson bits of wood to whittle for his experiments; it is she who sees that they are all well covered before she retires at night. Their smiles are
her greatest rewards for service well done. To her, in love, are bequeathed such treasures as handmade axe handles, baskets and unfinished quilts when
their owners pass away.
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