He told the assembled guests of Second Baptist Church that he had never seen himself in the Old Stuff column, but hastened to add that he felt in no way slighted.
"After all," said the Rev. M. E. Perry, "you've got to be an old timer before Brother Crump here can write you up and, as for myself, I never felt younger in my life."
Brother Perry might have escaped inclusion in this so-called saga of the ancients if he hadn't mentioned that he was a corporal in World War I. But when he made that admission, the parson dated himself, every bit as convincingly as if he had sung "Just A Baby's Prayer at Twilight."
The chances are that ex-corporal Perry would have gotten a free ride in Old Stuff anyhow just on the strength of the grand job he did as Master of Ceremonies at the grand supper which his Second Baptists gave for the home-town boys in the 31 Division. No small part of the pastor's triumph must be traced to his graciousness and restraint.
The church's assembly room was filled with guardsmen. Their plates were piled high with fried chicken and all the trimmings. They would not have retreated in the face of such wonderful food. Even had they tried to do so, soldiers would have found the exits blocked by pretty girls. In other words, the Rev. Perry had them hemmed in. But he did not preach, not even a little bit. He asked a timely, and well-worded blessing, on behalf of the boys and the food, and that was all. Anything else that he said or did was in the interest of the church's hospitality, and for the pleasure of its guests.
The 31st will go a long way, over hill and dale, before they meet up again with such kindness, such attention, and such victuals as were tendered them, out there on the south end of Theobald Street. Let them take to heart the simple, and sincere message of Mrs. Clay Thompson, who came out of the church kitchen just long enough to say, we quote:
"We shall all be praying for you every day that you are gone."
The great state of Maryland is famous for its fried chicken. Witness the menu cards of this cafe and that one, from Maine to Oregon, and you will find "Fried Chicken a la Maryland" is a standby.
Henceforth, if the cuisines would be up to date, they should change the title to "Fried Chicken a la Second Baptist."
We had two helpings and were reaching for a third when our Calvinistic conscience made us hesitate. It would look bad for a Presbyterian deacon to be encroaching upon a prerogative that is traditionally Methodist. So we refrained and settled for three wedges of apple pie and cheese from the hand of Betty Shepherd. Betty also made up a list of the ladies who served the soldiers, and of those backstage who dished it up. The cooks included Mrs. Kenneth Crane, Mrs. W. H. Shepherd. Mrs. H. E. Perry, Mrs. H. Stewart, Mrs. H. W. Mason, Mrs. F. L. Buchanan Jr., Mrs. B. Walsh, Mrs. Clay Thompson Mrs. Bill King, Mrs. F. P. Wolfe, and Mrs. Stewart Cain.
The servers included John Pritchett, Miss Fay Bailey, Miss Betty Shepherd, Miss Irene Woods, Miss Pat Hunt, Miss Patsy Warren, and Miss Rebecca Eubanks.
Thank you one and all, Ladies, for your part of a very lovely evening.
Looking down the registry of the sixty-one Guardsmen who enjoyed the Second Baptists' hospitality we don’t see many whom we know. All of which proves how much Greenville has grown and how much Old Stuff has aged. We see Dalton Kurts' name and remember a Sunday afternoon when Dudley and Miss Jo brought their first-born baby to Peacedale Farm to call. There is a Walter L. Smith who must be Shirt-tail's grand-boy, and there is Marlin Ford, who visited First Aid Class one night with his parents, Ocie and Buck.
Clyde Wilson (page Mr. Truman) has traded Corps for the artillery, while the creators and crew of S.S. Huck Finn. Lloyd, Tommy, and Alton have left the pilot-house for the caisson. Abe Menhel represents this newspaper in the Guard, and the Etheridge-Tucker family is well represented with Uncle Bob, Cousin Ashby and nephews Ted and Snow.
Jim Avant, who once belonged to our square dance group, is on the list, and we remember the day when Capt. Son Shelby got his first reckoning from the insurance company which showed that he was making a living. We were in the post office when Luther opened the letter. We were also in St. James Church for Sgt. Aldridge's parents' wedding. And we remember when Corporal Eskrigge was an expert with a cap pistol.
We see prominent Hornet names, like Cadenhead, Etheridge, Sorrells, Wallace and Lindsey, along with Eagle Scout Bill Taggart, and our friend Sgt. Frank Stebbins. We knew Recruit Griddle's daddy, back in his courting days. And Daniel Robertshaw’s daddy was the top kick of old Company C.
Last but least, we taught your brigadier how to square dance, and once soldiered with "Old Man" on courthouse lawn. Good Luck, and God Bless You Everyone.
BC
