THE GARRETTS IN MILLIGAN
By Jim Garrett
August 10, 2003
As I made my way through the tangled
thicket of briars and scrub oak, I was trying to recall what I was looking
for. I knew the old Garrett Mill was
back in these woods somewhere, just off Old River Road in Milligan, FL, but my
own recollections of it from childhood were hazy. I seemed to remember a bright sunny day and a small stream with
sandy banks. I was buck-naked and the
water was cold. Or maybe it was the old
black and white photo I was recalling, a picture of me when I was about three
years old, standing in water ankle deep, taken at the old millstream.
The mill had been a center of activity
for the little community of Milligan, FL.
It is unclear how long the gristmill had stood there before “Pa”, Alford
L. Garrett, bought it around 1935. It
was a small operation, built beside the little stream, which had been dammed
up. It was said to be “the best swimming
hole around” in those days. People
would haul their corn by mule or ox drawn wagon and Pa would grind it for
them. Another man would bag the ground
corn meal. It was all done on a “share”
basis or the barter system. In return
for grinding the corn, the mill would receive, in trade, a portion of the ground
meal. My father, James R. “Rube”
Garrett, Jr. (son of James R. Garrett, Sr. who was born to Alford and Olivia in
Milligan on 30 Nov 1896), remembers his granddaddy standing in the shady doorway,
chewing tobacco and greeting customers.
They called him “Uncle Alford”.
Alford
liked his “chaw.” At the little
Milligan Baptist Church there on Old River Road, just around the corner from
the homestead, Pa would always sit next to an open window so he could spit
tobacco.
Alford Lafayette Garrett was the twelfth and youngest child of John
Sheridan “Jack” Garrett. John S. was
born 3 Jan 1831 in Coffee Co., Alabama.
He and his wife, Rebecca Jane Fowler, who came from Georgia, born 16 Dec
1832, had migrated from Coffee County with their eight children to the area
east of the Yellow River just after the Civil War.
As Garrett family genealogist, Barbara Martin writes, “During or after
the Civil War, the call of good water and cheap, rich farm land began to hit
the settled Alabama residents. Florida
had become a state in 1845 and the Civil War was over. The abundance of unsettled land available
for homesteading attracted many settlers to northwest Florida. The Garretts were among their number.
Most newcomers remained in the interior
of the county because land along the coast was sandy and not considered
suitable for grazing cattle and farming, and was considered worthless.” How times have changed.
The family eventually settled on the
banks of the Yellow River just south of present day Highway 90 and the railroad
trestle that spans the river there. The
family operated a ferry at that location for many years till a flood wiped out
the house, it is said, back in the 1920s.
Alford was born at the “river house” on
12 Apr 1875. Not much is known about
his early years. I reckon he grew up
like most kids of that era. Electricity
would have been unavailable and transportation was a mule and a wagon. Light was provided by a kerosene lamp or lantern. All the cooking was done on a wood stove or
by pots or kettles hung over the fireplace that also was the only source of
heat during the long winter months.
Folks in
those days raised their money crops of cotton, corn, peanuts, velvet beans,
etc. to provide them home, shelter and cash income. They kept a seasonal garden for all their vegetables, which were
preserved by canning or storage in what was called "Tater beds" or
ground cellars. They had a smoke house
for curing meats and fish and would have gathered and burned hickory wood to
smoke the meats. They hunted wild game
to supplement their meat supply for the table and raised chickens and other
poultry for both the meat and the eggs
Cows were
kept to provide milk to drink or to use in cooking. Daily leftover milk was poured into a large churn to clabber at
room temperature. This clabbered milk was then churned into buttermilk for
family use after the large chunks of butter had been removed.
Corn was harvested and stored in the barn for livestock feed.
Some was hand-shucked and shelled off the cobs to be carried by wagon to
the gristmill. The shelled corn was
then ground with the great water-powered millstones into a corn meal and then
bagged for storage in their larder.
This meal was used in making "Corn Pone" or
"Cracklin'" bread or for “mealing” fish for frying.
It is probable that Alford helped with
all the chores and when he was old enough, helped run the ferry. Alford married Olivia Anne Wilkinson on New Years Day, 1894 at
Milligan, which was a part of Santa Rosa County in those days. She was from Milligan too, so its possible they were childhood sweethearts. He was 19
years old at the time; she would have been 17.
An old grainy black and white photo shows the Garretts gathered in front
of the old river house. Young Alford
and Olivia are shown with two little boys, John W. and James R. (my
grandfather), she, holding baby Sheridan and appearing to be pregnant. Alford is holding a straw hat. Twins Claude and Clyde would be born on 4
December 1900. After the death of
Grandma Rebecca in 1905, Alford would move the family to a house west of the
river near the road that ran to Crestview.
He reportedly bought the property from a black man and added onto the
house that was already standing to make room for his growing family. In later years, two big oak trees grew in
the front yard, which became a favorite shade spot for the local cows that
roamed freely. They would often gather
under the big trees. This meant you had
to be very careful when walking or playing in the front yard, or you might step
in something you wish you hadn’t!
As I struggled through the underbrush, suddenly old weathered boards
blocked the path – it was the old millhouse.
Though the day was hot and muggy, inside the ramshackle structure was
shady and cool. The rough wood walls
were high with sunlight peeping through the cracks between the boards. Strangely enough, after all these years the ancient corrogated tin roof was Still intact. Strewn about the floor were discarded white paper sacks, each
imprinted with the logo “Garrett’s Old Fashioned White Corn Meal - Unbolted
Water Ground” and a picture of three ears of corn inside a bright red
ring. Each bag proudly proclaimed the
contents had been “Sifted”. Though the mill ceased operations almost 40 years ago, in the 1960s, everything was scattered about as if the place had just been recently abandoned.
Out the back of the falling-down structure, I could see the millpond and
the dam, fallen into disrepair and retaining little water these days. Nearby, the giant millstones as big as
wagon wheels, which once ground the corn, had fallen through the rough wood floor into the mud beneath the building.
Up on the second level was the wooden hopper, accessible only by a
rickety catwalk. You could almost sense
the daily bustle of activity that must have taken place there.
“Uncle Alford” must have been an enterprising young man. Family tradition has it that despite having
only a fifth grade education – not unusual for those times – he was a school
teacher, could “write a legal document as well as any in the county” and played
the fiddle. I grew up with an old
hand-held school bell, tarnished and black with a wooden handle, which I was
told “Pa” Garrett used in his teaching days.
And there was an old fiddle too.
Barbara Martin’s history states he was a Justice of the Peace in the
early 1900s.
My father, Rube Garrett, recalls “Pa” fondly and the many days they
spent at the little house in Milligan.
”When I was a kid, Pa would drive model A’s
and model T’s and he always had chickens.
Seems like to me, he would come in with chicken coops tied to both sides
of the model T. He had a route that he
made -- he swapped and traded in chickens.
I don’t know what all else he traded in (chuckles), but he was a
‘wheeler dealer’”.
Dad says Pa was a heavyset fellow and when he climbed into his black 1932 panel truck, the truck would tilt heavily to one side. All the kids would pile in the back for the trip into town each Saturday.
“Uncle Alford
used to go to Crestview every Saturday night.
He would get a shave every Saturday and a haircut every other
Saturday. He would take a bag of meal
with him. He would pay the barber with
a bag of corn meal. Pa was a gentle
soul; he took us kids everywhere with him.
He was a slow driver though, never went faster than about 30 mph. All us kids would holler, ‘Speed it up,
Pa!’
One of the “kids”,
Dad’s sister Aunt Gloria says: “I do remember that all the king's horses and all
the king's men couldn't make Pa go one mile faster on Highway 90 driving to
Crestview. Cars traveling that main highway would be backed up because
they couldn't pass, but Pa drove with that arm up on the open window and spit his "backer" all the way to town and
back.”
One time, when the boys had driven Ma to exasperation, she
warned them, “Pa is gonna’ speak to you when he gets home”. When Pa walked in the door, Ma said,
“Alford, I want you to speak to these boys”.
“Hello, boys”, responded Pa.
“Ma” Garrett – folks in those parts
called her “Aunt ‘Leevy” -- always had a wonderful garden. They grew everything at home.
They butchered their own livestock.
Everything had to be smoked…that was before refrigeration.”
Aunt Gloria recalls, “I remember awaking to the noise of the
old coffee grinder on the wall in Ma Garrett's kitchen and the smell of the wood
fire in the stove. We knew that there
would be an abundance of ‘vittles’ on that
Breakfast table when we
all ran out to feast…there would be pork, rabbit, deer, or steak in abundance -
sometimes all. But always a choice of
at least two meats -- yes, for breakfast.”
Uncle Alford and Aunt ‘Leevy had the first and only
telephone in the area. Folks would call
for somebody who lived nearby and ask Alford if he could deliver a message, or
have them at the house at a certain hour.
Often times in the evening, people would be out on the front porch at
the appointed hour, waiting for relatives to call. Aunt ‘Leevy would step out on the porch and say, "Ya'll come on in, have something to
eat."
Every night after supper everyone would
sit and rock on the front porch, lit only by the kerosene lanterns from inside
the house. Someone approaching would be
seen by their cigarette glowing in the dark.
Folks would walk down the lane and call out in the darkness, "How
you tonight Uncle Alford, Aunt ‘Leevy?”
In those days, the train carrying the
mail would come by every night, leaving a big bag of mail swinging on the arm
of the mail catcher, which stood down by the tracks. People would gather at the little post office there after dark,
talking and visiting, "watching the mail box”, waiting for the postmaster
to sort it and put it in the post office boxes. It was a nightly social event.
Pa Garrett passed away in 1950, at age
75, just three years after I was born.
Ma lived on till 1954. I remember
visiting her at the little country store her sons, the twins Claude and Clyde,
built near the old house at the intersection of Highway 90 and County Road 4,
which runs up to Baker. By that time,
she was a wizened little old lady, spending most of her time in the rocker by
the big storefront window. I recall the
musty sweet aroma of Garrett’s Snuff (no relation) – there was always a Maxwell
House coffee can nearby – and the sweet, loving smile she always had for me
whenever we visited.
Gazing at the huge millstones and
remembering the old stories, I thought about those lives, lived out so many
years ago. Those images are treasured
in my memory: the old wooden house with its big front porch, folks enjoying the
cool of the evening by the dim light of kerosene lanterns; neighbors coming
down the lane, cigarettes glowing in the dark, on their way down to the post
office to pick up the evening mail.
“Evenin’ Uncle Alford, Aunt ‘Leevy…”
Was
there ever such a time and place? The
image fades; the curtain falls on a simpler time, a gentle people with a simple
faith in hard work and their own ingenuity, who made a life for themselves –
and us – on the banks of the Yellow River.
We owe them much.
Pictures of the Old Garrett Mill Today
James R. Garrett, III
50
Bay Drive NE
Fort
Walton Beach, FL
32548