I Remember Tucapau, No. 6 (The 1930's General Strike)

By

John D. Wilson

B. 1925, Written 2005

Anyway, the strike had a divisive effect. You were either a striker and or you were not. There was nothing in between. Years earlier when we lived in Wellford my father was a weaveroom overseer, but in Tucapau he was not in a supervisory position. I suppose his past history helped shape his opinions because he never favored the union position. This, of course, influenced his wife and children.

It was not long before every child knew where his family stood and children looked upon each other as being from a striker or non-striker family. While the divisive nature had its influence, there were few occasions of violence. I can remember one small incident in which I was involved but even this was comparatively benign: We were running and playing during recess time at the grammar school when one of the striker boys approached me and used his hand to pin me against the side of the school building. He started to call me dirty names and tell me how he was going to hurt me. One of his buddies, Bobby Padgett, who was my neighbor and was from a striker family, came to my defense. “Leave him alone, he’s all right,” Bobby said, or words to that effect. The other boy promptly freed me and disappeared, probably to go harass some other non-striker student.

But that was only a minor incident. The thing I remember more vividly about the strike was that that the strikers were called Cabbage Heads and the non-strikers were called Red Apples. Here’s why: With no income, food was in short supply for all. Someone who looked with favor on the strikers brought in a wagonful of cabbage and distributed them to strikers and their families. Not to be outdone, someone who favored the non-strikers came in with a wagonful of red apples and distributed them to non-strikers. Hence, the nicknames.

While the lack of income certainly had impact on some families, our family was lucky to have a source of food. My older brother Doyle had been living and working at Jackson Mill in Wellford for some time. He was living with my Aunt Kate and her husband Ab Jordan, who was the superintendent of the mill, and their children, who were about Doyle’s age. Doyle had a job and some income, so he would come to our house in Tucapau weekly when he was paid. He and my father would go on to one of the grocery stores in Wellford with a shopping list and return with a carful of goodies. They were staples, basically, but we considered them goodies. We even had Jello for dessert for Sunday dinners and considered this a special treat

I don’t know the origin of the movement, but someone took whatever action was necessary for grownups to visit the grammar school daily with a lunch for the students. Because the Red Apples and Cabbage Heads couldn’t agree to visit together, they came on alternate days. I don’t remember what they served but I suppose we had our bellyfull of cabbage soup and apple fruit. I do remember looking forward to bowls of beef stew on days the Red Apples had the duty. To this day I can’t face a bowl of beef stew without thinking of the so-called Good Old Days.

One thing happened that made a lasting impression on us kids. The brick grammar school was on top of a hill directly across the river from the big, five-story mill. The company apparently was afraid of vandalism by the strikers so it installed a big spotlight just outside one of the upper windows, facing down to the river. One night somebody shot out the light. Grapevine word among the students as to who did it, but I never heard any proof. It doesn’t matter, really, because it was a lively topic of talk among the students and for days we lined up on the hill, looking at the disabled light, and speculated.

I have never liked confrontations of any kind, and for this reason I remember regular visits by my mother’s brother, Arthur (Uncle Ott) Jackson, who was also a Tucapau worker. He was avidly in favor of the union position and would visit regularly, to confront my parents and try to persuade them to the union side. Conversations would usually get pretty hot and I was always relieved when Uncle Ott would leave. Uncle Ott had a daughter, cousin Margaret Jackson, who was in my school class, but we remained steadfast friends even though one family was union and the other not. This made me wonder about grown-ups: they were always getting roused up over things and the kids went ahead about their business and did not get worked up.

Postscript: Before we moved to Tucapau, we lived in Greer, where my father was in the weaveroom of Franklin Mills. We lived in a house directly across the street from the main mill entrance. Even back then there was talk of strike among the mill workers, and those at Franklin Mills were no exception. The situation grew so intent that the mill went to the extent of calling the National Guard to come out and keep the peace. They rolled a small cannon to the entrance and apparently it worked, for there was never any violence. What bothered me was the fact that the cannon was aimed, I think unintentionally, directly at our front porch across the street.

I guess somebody somewhere has done research on the 1930s general strike, when it started, how many mills struck, how long it lasted, etc., but I can remember only the more personal things, like those above.