Madame-president Gresham, Madame chairman Pogue, Madame guest-speaker Wilson, and Ladies of the Garden Clubs from here, there and yonder, Greetings! And here's hoping the red carpet has been rolled out far enough for each of you to leave a footprint upon the same.
Personally, we're all for the Garden Gals, whether they be planting trees, protecting birds, gilding cat-tails, terracing Indian Mounds, or stymying the woodsman's saw and ax. And if they would just make the campus at French Camp Academy their immediate project, there's no telling what we wouldn't do for them in way of publicity.
The last time Greenville hosted the clubs, and as we recall it was a district deal, was in early May of 1940. If the town's population has doubled since then, it stands to reason that there now are twice as many gardens too.
Anyhow the big dogs at the time were Mrs. Frank England, Mrs. Walter Merritt and Mrs. Noble Pace (the latter two ladies being from Boyle and Cleveland respectively). Miss Marie (for Mrs. Henry) Starling was publicity-chairman and asked Old Stuff for a plug for the meeting, plus our active support of the garden clubs’ crusade against outdoor advertising.
It so happened that there were already three signboards on our property, and all of them paying a yearly rental. Not wishing to be branded a hypocrite, we ducked the advertising issue and tried a little humor instead. Which course of action led to a scene at the England home on South Street which went something like this, quote: -
"Mother", said Mr. England, looking over the top of his glasses as well as the top of the evening paper, "I see where you've got your name in the paper." Miss Eva probably said umm-hmm, then kept on with whatever she was doing, like studying her Sunday School lesson or darning son Joe's socks.
"Did. you hear me, Mother," said Mr. England, "I said your name's in the paper."
"Yes, Frank, I don't doubt it", replied Mrs. England, "and I'm not surprised, what with the garden club convention being in town the first part of this week, and you should remember that your wife is district treasurer."
"But Mother," persisted Pop England, “this isn't a news story, nor the minutes of the last meeting. It's an editorial and it's about you."
That did it. Miss Eva reached for the paper and turned immediately to page 4 and the lead editorial that was initialed B.C. And the punch-line, indeed, was her's alone, quote: -
"If we were a drooping Ligustrum, and Mrs. England came along, we'd perk right up and do our best; in the first place because we'd want to and, in the second place, because we'd be scared not to." end quote.
That was nineteen years ago, but we could say it again, beings how this writer's respect, awe and affection for General Eva are yet undiminished.
Wednesday evening's talk on flower-arrangement by Mrs. W. Harrell Wilson of Greenville, South Carolina, was a highlight of the convention. Her skill with focal-point and color-scheme left nothing to be desired, and her humor was priceless. And there are several of the o!d boys along cotton row who, though wouldn't be caught dead at a flower-show, will appreciate Mrs. Wilson's home-ties back in the Carolinas.
Her husband was connected for many years with the E.W. Montgomery Company, Cotton Merchants, of Greenville, S. C. Ed Montgomery, an old Yazoo City boy, put that show on the road over forty years ago, and "H. W.", as most of us know him, is household-word wherever cotton is bought and sold.
BC
