MAX COOKE

Transcript
TRANSCRIPT %u2013 MAX COOKE
[Compiled November 27th, 2010]
Interviewee: MAX COOKE
Interviewer: Andrew %u201CDrew%u201D Ritchie (DR)
Interview Date: August 10th, 2010
Location: Casar, North Carolina
Length: Approximately 66 minutes
DREW RITCHIE: This is Andrew Ritchie here in Casar, North Carolina, at Cooke%u2019s Garage, here with Max Cooke. Max, could you please just state your name and also your place and date of birth?
MAX COOKE: My name is Max Cooke and I was born September the 24th, 1945, right here where we%u2019re sitting now. Within a hundred foot of where we%u2019re at now is where I was born and raised.
DR: [Laughter] So have you%u2026?
MC: %u2026So I have not moved very far.
DR: All right. It%u2019s August 10th now, and you%u2019ve been here%u2026?
MC: %u2026Will be sixty-five years in another month.
DR: That%u2019s wonderful. Have you ever lived anywhere else?
MC: No, sir. No.
DR: And what was it like growing up in Cleveland County?
MC: Well, compared to anywhere else, I wouldn%u2019t know, but it%u2019s out in the country, all farm land when I first growed up. There was very few people worked at industry, any type of mill; some of them worked at cotton mills, but most people farmed around here. And all us kids, the church was the center of our activity. We%u2019d meet at the church, and that%u2019s where we--on Sundays, all the boys would get together, and girls, and we%u2019d ride bicycles from here plumb to Morganton and Shelby, which is twenty miles away. There wasn%u2019t very much traffic on the roads at all. We played out in the woods, climbed trees, up and down the creeks, catching crawfish, and we%u2019d do a little fishing. Compared to today, it probably wasn%u2019t too exciting, but back then it was very exciting. We%u2019d even have corncob fights, throw the corncobs. It%u2019s just like any other kid, I guess. We%u2019d play ball in the summertime. It was pretty nice.
DR: Was your family a farming family then, too?
MC: Yeah, yeah. Well, now my dad, when I was young we had cotton. We picked cotton and we had cows, milked our cows; we had chickens. We didn%u2019t--very seldom go to the store except my grandmother would get her snuff. We%u2019d get her coffee at the store, but we raised our milk, our vegetables, our hogs, our beef, all that stuff we had out in the smokehouse. We%u2019d go to Stamey%u2019s here in Fallston--was a hardware store. We%u2019d go down there and get our clothing for when it come school time. It was the only time we got a new pair of shoes, got a new pair of pants. We%u2019d go down there once, probably once a year in the fall of the year, after our cotton crop come in. But then my dad, he got a job in a cotton mill in Shelby and he worked there for I couldn%u2019t tell you how many years, and then he went from there to insurance salesman. He was an insurance salesman when he retired. Then when I got out of school, I went to mechanic school. I worked at the Ford place in Shelby for about twelve years, and then I come up here in %u201973. I mean, I still lived here, but I drove back and forth to Shelby. In %u201973 I built this garage and I%u2019ve been here ever since %u201973, self-employed.
DR: And you%u2019ve mentioned your grandma; was she living with you?
MC: We lived with our grandmother. This was actually her farm and her land, about a hundred acres or so here. Her husband died, my grandpa; I never did meet him. He was a Downs, Clem Downs. It was my mother%u2019s mother, and we lived with her until %u201956. My dad built a house right here above it, about fifty foot above it. Grandmother still wanted to stay in her home, and she stayed down there in that house until she passed away. When I was just a teenager--well, really, from %u201956--eleven years old, we moved up here in this house, which is still within rock-throwing distance away. And then, when I got married I built a house right above here about four or five hundred foot up the hill up here, still on the same property. [Interruption]
DR: Did you have brothers and sisters?
MC: Had two sisters: Jane is a year older than me, and Norma, my younger sister, was born in %u201942, she%u2019s about seven--I mean %u201952--she%u2019s about seven years younger than I am. And we all--my dad sung in the St. Paul Quartet back in the forties--and we started a quartet after, I%u2019d say, probably in %u201975 or something like that. Me and my sister and another couple. We sung basically the same songs they sung. As a matter of fact, everybody says we sung just like them, but the St. Paul Quartet was a little before my time. They had about all died out in the early fifties. I can remember them as a kid, but that%u2019s all.
DR: So what did you do? I mean, were you a protective brother of your sisters, like, going to school and stuff?
MC: Oh, yeah. Me and Jane was a lot closer because we wasn%u2019t but a year apart. Yeah, we were very close, me and Jane was. My aunt, my mother%u2019s sister, lived down the hill on the creek and me and Jane, four and five, six years old, would sneak off and run down there, and Mom would always have to come after us and take a hickory and a switch and get us. Yeah, me and her was just like that; we was together every--when you seen one, you seen the other--we were together. We went to school at Casar. Our first grade was pretty tough because Jane, she went first, before me, and she didn%u2019t like it and she came home, walked home, which is three or four miles. We was just together all the time. That going to school business wasn%u2019t for her, but anyway, it didn%u2019t take but a couple of days. After she got a few whippings and a few switches, well, she learned right quick that you couldn%u2019t do that.
DR: So did you take the bus to school?
MC: Then, yeah, we took a bus. It was all dirt roads around here and we rode the school bus. We would get up--I would--Jane, she was more--had to do housekeeping, but I had to get up of a morning and milk the cows, help milk the cows and get the cows and everything ready before we went to school, then had to do it again when we come in of an evening. But one thing about it: we didn%u2019t have to mow grass because we swept the yard; we had sand in the yard. We didn%u2019t have grass in the front yard. We%u2019d use an old pine treetop and we%u2019d go through the front yard, especially on Saturdays. That was my main job on a Saturday, even as a small kid, is take the pine top and clean the front yard. If there was any grass came up, pull it up. Because on Sundays after church, all the kinfolks--aunts and uncles and all--would come to our house and have dinner and sit around the front porch, which is all the way around the house, and talk about farming, talk about the weather, this, that, and the other. I remember sitting around, listening. As a kid, the main thing that really attracted my attention back then was the war. It had me worried a lot because they would all talk about so-and-so, some of their cousins or something that%u2019s sent overseas, and one of the boys, a Parker boy, which is probably our second or third cousin--anyway, he was a neighbor over the road--he died in service and that was a big talk. Everything was centered around on Sundays about the war and stuff like that, the cotton crop, the boll weevil going to eat us out. I guess it was typical talk back then.
DR: How many people would come out for it?
MC: It would probably be fifteen or twenty, maybe even more than that; I don%u2019t know. Sunday evening, it was a gathering place, and we might go to their--one of my uncles%u2019 house, or aunt and uncle%u2019s--the next Sunday. We%u2019d just rotate from one to the other. There was a lot of fellowship back then. Everybody was very close. Every family was very close.
DR: Did you have any favorite Sunday meals or anything?
MC: Well, I always loved fried chicken; I liked fried chicken. My grandma could fry it the best of anybody I knowed of; it was good.
DR: Do you know what she put in it?
MC: I have no idea. I do know that on the Saturday before the Sunday, I would help when I got big enough. We%u2019d take a little crow%u2019s hook and go out and catch the rooster, a little rooster. Then my mother would take it and wring its head off. Pretty cruel, you know, but then they%u2019d pick it and pluck it and do all this, and that was our Sunday dinner--catch that little rooster. He was good too. [Laughter]
DR: Now you mentioned growing up out here and going to the creek and enjoying the woods and going out with everyone, running around and things. Did you have any special places out here, either in nature or one of your friends%u2019 homes? Did you have any special places that meant a lot to you growing up?
MC: Well, there was a lot of places we stayed out. One of my buddies--Ray Randall and Dale Hudson both, they was all about my age. Now, this was on up after we got to, say, ten, eleven, twelve year old. There was a big cave down behind their houses, and every Sunday when I could visit, we%u2019d leave church a lot of times and we%u2019d go to one another%u2019s house, because we stuck together a lot, and we always played in them old caves. I can still remember sliding up and down them, and they were deep too. They was probably twenty or thirty foot deep, and that was very--that still sticks in my mind, playing around a lot like that.
DR: Were there any scary or exciting times in the caves?
MC: Back then, some of the growner men and boys, back then I thought they was old when they was eighteen, nineteen, with they was out of high school. They%u2019d try to sneak around--see, they didn%u2019t probably have much to do, and they%u2019d sneak around and try to scare us some way or another, but other than that, no there wasn%u2019t. I can%u2019t think of the name of what we used to go in them old gullies at night and try to run out, but come to find out, it wasn%u2019t nothing, just a scary thing.
DR: You mentioned that when you were growing up, you had some memories of the St. Paul Quartet, and your dad was in it. Can you tell me about some of your first memories of that?
MC: Naturally, he was my hero, and I remember when I was real young--I don%u2019t even know if I had started to school yet, but they had a singing convention in Lawndale, and we all packed up and went down there, and they got up on the stage and sung. My dad and Claude Crotts, Marion Benfield, and Claude%u2019s wife, Hattie, and Bentha Cooke, she was the pianist. Oh, I can remember seeing them get up, although I was small then, seeing them get up and sing, and the whole stadium was just plumb packed full of people. It was really exciting, I thought.
DR: So what else happened in Lawndale then?
MC: Lawndale was about like Casar. Now, Casar was a pretty growing town back then. We had a lot of stores. A hardware store; we had filling stations; we had quite a bit. Lawndale did have a movie house, but my folks wasn%u2019t too good on letting us go to a movie house back then. They just didn%u2019t think that much of it. It was more or less a sinful thing to go to, so we, me and my sister never did get to go to the movies except %u2018til we got grown and pay our own way. I%u2019ve heard the other kids in school talk about going and watching movies. I believe it was ten cent or something like that, but no, we never did. Now, a lot of times, after I got up eleven or twelve years old, I played Little League baseball in Shelby. I would hitch-hike from Casar School, from there to Shelby, which is eighteen mile--go down 226. Thought nothing about it, a little kid out there with my little uniform on. Optimist, I played with Optimist there at the city park. Played for two years. Now, I didn%u2019t hitch-hike every day because my dad worked in Shelby, and he couldn%u2019t drive all the way to Casar to get me, and a lot of times, some of the men, they all knew who--me and a couple more boys would go--they worked at the Shelby Mill, and a lot of times they%u2019d come to the school and pick us up and take us to the ball park. But then, we%u2019d come home; our folks would pick us up and bring us on home. And a lot of times, they had a Hunt Bus Line, Hunt%u2019s Bus Line; we%u2019d catch it for a quarter, and ride to Shelby. It would go to Lawndale and it would go to Polkville and it would go to Fallston. It took it a pretty good while to get to Shelby.
DR: How were you as a baseball player?
MC: I thought I was pretty good--got my name in the paper a couple of times, yeah, as a pitcher. Back then, we done, we done well. I forget what we come out in--first, second, or third, I don%u2019t remember. We really enjoyed it; I do know that.
DR: Did you do any sports in high school or anything?
MC: No, I didn%u2019t do--I got up in high school, and--well, I did; I played baseball, at first, in the ninth grade for Casar. Then we consolidated: the tenth grade went to Polkville, Burns at Polkville. I got over there, and I made the team, but then there come a spot open for a bus driver. I believe it was eighteen or nineteen dollars. That sounded awful good a month, so I give up my ball-playing and started driving a school bus, so I drove a school bus the last three years in school and made that big money. Or I thought it was big money anyway.
DR: What did you do with your new-found wealth then?
MC: It was just spend here and yonder, I guess. At least I had money to spend to go to school and things like that. See, back then we didn%u2019t have all that much cash money anyway. One thing about it: we was all in about the same boat. As far as I can remember, we didn%u2019t have no kids that was really rich. If we did, I don%u2019t remember it. If they did, they didn%u2019t show it. About everybody was about the same, wore about the same kind of clothes. I can%u2019t remember nobody really being better than the other person. I%u2019m sure there was some, but it didn%u2019t really stand out that much because everybody played together and everybody done together. And basketball, I loved--I didn%u2019t play it--but back when I was in high school, Casar had one of the best basketball teams in the county. As a matter of fact, they went even further than the county; I can%u2019t remember now. But I remember walking--it%u2019s three miles from here to Casar. I remember when I was sixteen, seventeen--didn%u2019t have a car. Now, kids gets a car when they%u2019re younger. Sixteen, seventeen, when I was in the tenth and eleventh grade, I drove a school bus, but I still didn%u2019t have a car. I%u2019d walk from here to Casar, which is about three mile, when I%u2019d get home from school, driving the school bus, then I%u2019d walk to Casar and stay %u2018til the ball game was over, basketball game. Boy, they were good; they were the best team and we was really proud of them. I believe for two years in a row Casar came out on top of everybody, and that was very interesting. I can remember that very good.
DR: Did you ever drive the school bus anywhere but to and from school?
MC: One time I did. The principal, he didn%u2019t appreciate that. My bus was late--I got stuck up here on the side of the mountain and couldn%u2019t get it out. Finally, the time we got to Casar--see, we had to go from Casar to Polkville--the high school kids met at Casar and then we went to Polkville, and I got stuck up here on Jesse Mountain, and finally, when they got me out, I took my bus back to Casar. Well, there was two girls and two or three of us boys on the bus that went to the high school, and we just decided we%u2019d just bypass. Instead of going to Polkville, we%u2019d go to Moriah, up 226, ride up toward Marion and turn around and come back. Well, we got about halfway up through there and the law stopped us. He was awful nice, though. He followed us all the way back down the road %u2018til we got to Polkville School. The principal, he sure give us a good raking out over that, and I never did do that again. We had a time on that bus, though, a riding.
DR: [Laughter]
MC: We thought we were something.
DR: That%u2019s great. What was music like in your family, growing up? Did you have a musical family?
MC: Yeah, my dad, he led the choir out here at St. Paul, and sung bass in the quartet. My sister, Jane, they put her in music school. A lady over the road here, the one I%u2019m talking about, Bentha Cooke, she taught music in school, and Jane went to that. Jane could play the piano when she was ten or eleven year--and she loved the piano--she played every evening. I%u2019d come in from school, I%u2019d hear that doggone piano just a banging; she was over there playing. We had a piano, and yeah, me and my dad and sister, we%u2019d sing all the time. That was one of the highlights of our life. Then go to church and sing. We enjoyed that, and my dad was really into it and my sister was. I didn%u2019t ever really get into it as much as they did %u2018cause I had other things on my mind. I didn%u2019t think that much of it. I enjoyed singing, but they%u2019d sing all the time. I didn%u2019t really get involved in singing until after I got married.
DR: So what sort of stuff did you sing with your sister and your dad?
MC: It was always gospel, always gospel. My cousin, Michael Sailors, him and his dad, Rob, played a lot of bluegrass. Rob played the mandolin and Michael played the guitar. Well, I was impressed by that. My dad and them bought me a guitar and I used to play with them, a little bluegrass, but it was, I guess you call it hillbilly music or something, but I enjoyed that. Like I say, that was in my growing-up years and teenage years, and I just didn%u2019t ever go that far with it.
DR: And where did your dad get the guitar?
MC: Couldn%u2019t tell you where he got it. He bought it from somebody in Shelby. Selling insurance, he met a lot of people, and somebody had a guitar. It was a Kay, a Kay guitar. I%u2019ve still got it, but it was a Kay guitar, and a pretty good-sounding guitar.
DR: Do you ever pick it up still?
MC: No, not it. I%u2019ve bought, in the meantime, when me and the quartet started, I bought me a guitar, a Fender, from Shelby Music, and played it for a while. We sung with the piano most of the time, but then we had about a dozen songs we%u2019d sing with just the guitar. I%u2019d pick the guitar and the quartet would sing with guitar. But I%u2019ve still got it, and we still sing some, occasionally. With the quartet, we still sing at funerals a lot. We sung up %u2018til the last couple of years. We sort of got burned out, or maybe not burned out; we just got sort of old and lazy, I guess. We%u2019d go, the quartet, we%u2019d go to Morganton, Rutherfordton, Hickory, and there would be people in the congregation: %u201CCome to our church next Saturday,%u201D and we really didn%u2019t have much--it was every Saturday. We didn%u2019t try to go on Sunday night %u2018cause we stayed at our church. But it was every Saturday night, then during the spring and during the fall, revivals. Every church in the South Mountain Association, just about, I guess--I guess we%u2019ve sung at every church in the whole association. They%u2019d want us to sing at their revival. I%u2019d work all day and then come in and then sing. Monday night, a revival. Tuesday night, a revival. We didn%u2019t sing on Wednesdays. Thursday night and then Saturday night, and after a while we didn%u2019t have no time with our families. So, kids growing up, and we needed to be at home, so we tried to slow up and just go once a week, but that didn%u2019t pan out because people, they, %u201CWell, you went to so-and-so%u2019s church last week. Why can%u2019t you come to ours?%u201D and it hurt feelings, so we decided we couldn%u2019t please everybody and we just try to please God, so we sort of backed out, and we just sing, now, at our church mainly, and, of course, a lot of people with funerals; we sing at funerals.
DR: You mentioned you didn%u2019t really start singing until you got married. Did your wife encourage you or something?
MC: Well, not really. I mean, she encourages me to do what I feel, because she I could sing so good, why didn%u2019t I sing? So my sister said, %u201CWell, let%u2019s just get a quartet up, so I really don%u2019t know. Our neighbors, Rick and Pat Blanton, live right out the road; they wanted to sing. They%u2019re about ten years younger than us, but they wanted to sing, and Pat%u2019s a very good lead singer, and Rick%u2019s one of the best tenor singers. I sung bass and my sister sung alto, so we done a couple at church and everybody was really encouraging us and that%u2019s when it started. Then, we%u2019d just go from one church to the next church, and like I say, it was Rutherfordton, Forest City, Hickory, Morganton. Finally, we got to where people that would see us in Morganton at a church, they lived in Marion, and we ended up going to Marion. Then we ended going right at Asheville, and I just got to going--we just wasn%u2019t called to just, totally dedicated to singing, you know. We didn%u2019t want to leave our church and didn%u2019t want to leave our family. We didn%u2019t feel like God was calling us in that way. A lot of groups, they just go. I feel we could have just kept a going, that we%u2019d made a living at it or not, I don%u2019t know, but we just didn%u2019t feel called to do that. We%u2019re just homebodies; we just want to stay around here.
DR: So it was your sister, then, that sort of started the group?
MC: I%u2019d say Jane%u2019s the one that got us all started because she was more of the musical inclined and she loved to sing all the time, so she encouraged us and got the rest of us all going, and we just got into it.
DR: Do you have any memories of any particularly fun trips that you went on as a quartet?
MC: Oh, we%u2019ve had a lot of fun at them. We dressed up. You know, back then, people dressed up. Now, we go to church with just everyday--. But back then, you had your Sunday meeting clothes, even back when I was a teenager. When the quartet first got started, we bought us a new suit. Me and Rick bought sort of a white-looking suit, real pretty--the first time I%u2019d ever had a suit in my life--we bought that, and the ladies, Jane and Pat, bought them a new outfit. I%u2019ll never forget, we went to Zion Hill Baptist Church up here. It%u2019s a pretty good-size church in the association, at revival. Rick very seldom talks any, but I usually done the introducing and talking, but everybody knowed us anyway. But Rick got up and he got in a big way of talking, and said we wasn%u2019t out for no show or nothing like that, and when he held up his up there, his price tag%u2019s on his coat and on his pants too, and we never laughed so in our life. His wife, she didn%u2019t--Pat, it got away with her because she should have cut them price tags off. Even the people in the congregation, they didn%u2019t say nothing %u2018til it was over; they all knowed us. They all got to coming up to Rick and pulling his price tag and showing him. They said, %u201CBoy, you really paid good for them suits, didn%u2019t you?%u201D So we had a lot of good times like that.
DR: That%u2019s great. [Telephone ringing]
MC: But yeah, there%u2019s a lot of memorable times. I mean, right now, I can%u2019t recall that many, but we%u2019ve had a lot of good times, a lot of fun. One thing that really stands out in my mind: we [Interruption] all went together and bought us a PA outfit. Now, that%u2019s very expensive. Two big speakers and a--whatever you call it to where you plug in all your mikes and everything--but anyway, we went in debt and bought all that and we paid for it ourself. I forget now how much it really cost, and we%u2019d throw it all in our old cars, and that%u2019s what we used. Finally, the church helped us out. The church had a fund-raiser and they helped us buy an old van. We bought a van and we drove it. But the Golden Valley Crusaders, which is Butch Cook and some of them; we went to school with them, and we%u2019d meet them to sing. They done bluegrass gospel with the banjo and stuff like that. Their daddy was a preacher, Ottis. Well, Ottis come around in this part of the country and preached, and we was all sort of family, but we always enjoyed--they had a big bus, and man, we wanted to ride in that big bus. Come to find out, Butch called me and said, %u201CMax, we%u2019re above Rutherfordton at a church, and I see you%u2019uns are going to be there.%u201D He said, %u201CWould you%u2019uns want to come and ride with us?%u201D Oh, that just tickled us to death. We got to ride in that big bus, and the preacher, Ottis, went with us. We went over there and we sung. We drove our cars to their house, which ain%u2019t--it%u2019s on the other side of Casar. We got on the bus, we went to the church and we sung and they sung. Back then, several groups always sung at every church. Coming back up the road, we got into Forest City, and the old bus quit on us. Here we sit, and nowhere to go, and finally Ben Melton, another group that we knew, come by in their bus and they stopped. They picked us up, the St. Paul Quartet, and brought us back home. They lived in Forest City, but they drove all the way to Casar and brought us home. But anyway, Butch and them said their old bus just tore up. But what%u2019s so funny about it, the preacher, Ottis, their daddy, come up to me in a couple or weeks after that at a revival and said, %u201CMax, you know what was wrong with that bus?%u201D I said, %u201CWhat was it, Ottis?%u201D He said, %u201CButch and them are too stingy to buy any diesel fuel,%u201D said, %u201Cthey just run out of gas.%u201D So, come to find out, the reason they got stranded is that--we%u2019ve joked with Butch and them about that ever since. It%u2019s a lot of fun when you get together like that and go. We had a lot of fun. It was worth it. The Lord really blessed us.
DR: You sang gospel, you sang at churches a lot and things. How important is faith to your singing?
MC: Like I say, we had a lot of fun and all, but, you know, if you don%u2019t feel it, if you don%u2019t believe it, then it%u2019s of no value. That%u2019s why I like gospel music so. When you%u2019re singing gospel music, the spirit of God is just in the song. Now, I know there%u2019s some times when you%u2019re singing that it just don%u2019t feel like that it%u2019s there like it normally is at some other times. Then there%u2019s times you get into it, and it just feels like the spirit of God just fills you up, and your cup just runs over, and you can sing. As far as carrying a tune and singing the right notes, that don%u2019t bother you, %u2018cause it just feels like the good Lord%u2019s just right there with you. I%u2019ve went and worked here hard all day, and give out and tired, and go to revivals, and leave here with a bad attitude, and then get up there and sing and hear the preaching and it just seems--it%u2019s worth every bit of it. I%u2019d be lying if I said we were on a high all the time, so to speak, but there%u2019s just times we was just down and out, but overall, really, the Lord%u2019s really blessed and it seems like when you%u2019re down in the valley, it just seems like he just comes up with something and just brings you right out of it, and it comes through the music. Our singing is a lot different than most. Most of the places we went and the people we sung with, usually it would be two or three groups. I%u2019m not throwing off on none of the rest of them, neither. All we done, we sung with the piano. My sister played the piano and we sung. We were about the only ones, to be honest with you, and we went around to a lot. Most all of them had guitars, banjos; they had a band, really. It was very discouraging--a lot of the churches you go to, we%u2019d get up and sing, and there wouldn%u2019t be a word said. We%u2019d hear an %u201Camen%u201D every now and then, but you see tears everywhere, because the songs we sung was, more or less, if you%u2019ve ever heard the Chuck Wagon Gang sing, that%u2019s about the kind of song--old-timey songs is what we done. The old-timey gospel songs is what we done. Then another group would get up right after us, with loud guitars and drums and things, and it would seem like it would just set the people on fire. They%u2019d start shouting and clapping their hands and getting up, and we got discouraged a lot of times, but the Lord just spoke to me. You know, there%u2019s several ways of worshipping God. Just because they%u2019re shouting, that don%u2019t mean nothing. You can worship God in your tears, in your thoughts, so we were worshipping God just as much as they were, and it was discouraging but it didn%u2019t take long to figure out that--we weren%u2019t out there to entertain the people. We were out there just telling them about Jesus Christ and our Lord and savior and that was it--through the songs, and that%u2019s the greatest blessing of all. It%u2019s really worth it.
DR: So is singing, then, a way to pray, for you?
MC: It is, very much, very much so. It%u2019s portraying the meaning; it%u2019s getting the message across of how great God has done to not only us as singers, but to you as a congregation. If it don%u2019t go no further than us, we%u2019re not really doing no good, but you can tell when you look across the congregation at the faces; you can tell. When you look at them, it just drags it out of you. You%u2019ll just sing your heart out. Come back and sing again, and the people really bring it out of you. Now, there%u2019s been times we sung when really, it was just--. We didn%u2019t ever sing that many times; we%u2019d sing at a concert every now and then, what I call a concert, a fundraiser or something. We%u2019d go to Kings Mountain, I believe, down there at the school, us and a whole bunch of other groups sung, and I%u2019m not throwing off on that type singing; it was good entertainment and I enjoyed it, but it wasn%u2019t nothing like going to a local church and a congregation. Although at first, there wasn%u2019t that many people. I mean, when we first started singing, churches was pretty full, but the last few years we sung, you done well to get a half a church full, when it come to a singing or even revival. But I found out later, the numbers didn%u2019t mean that much; it was the feeling that you got. It comes through worshipping God.
DR: You mentioned you went to a couple of different revivals, and sometimes when you were down, they really lifted you up. Can you remember one in particular?
MC: Not one in particular that really stands out that much. I don%u2019t know, there%u2019s just quite a few times, you worked here all day at your work, and you%u2019re tired and you%u2019re give out, and then go to revival, you go with a down feeling, but then after a while, it picks you up, the preaching and the singing and everything else. See, at revivals, we%u2019d get up and sing two, three, four songs at the most, and that was it. [Interruption] I%u2019m sorry about that.
DR: That%u2019s okay. You%u2019ve got a business to run.
MC: Yeah.
DR: We were talking about gospel singing and revivals and things. You said that at most revivals, you only sang a couple of songs?
MC: We%u2019d get up and we%u2019d sing two or three songs %u2018cause we didn%u2019t want to take nothing away from the preacher. We%u2019d get up and sing first, and there had been time after time during the preaching service that the visiting pastor would even call on us to sing during his sermon. You know, he%u2019d just stop, because there%u2019s just times, and I wish it happened every time, but there%u2019s just times that it seems like the spirit of God is just so strong, you don%u2019t want to lose it right then, and I can see where they%u2019re coming from. We%u2019d even get up and sing and have an altar call before he got through. I mean, he%u2019d ask us to do that. Of course, when we went and sung at revivals, that was our way; we just used the piano. We didn%u2019t have a lot of instruments, and, like I say, I%u2019m not against instruments. I love to hear, especially bluegrass, I love to hear banjos and guitars and people that%u2019s talented, to really pick them and sing, but all we done was just four-part harmony: bass, alto, soprano, and tenor. That%u2019s all we done. A lot of times, we didn%u2019t even use the piano; we%u2019d just sing a capella. That seemed to really set the tone for the preaching, so normally we%u2019d just sing two or three or four songs at the beginning, and sometimes in the middle, and then sometimes they%u2019d ask us to do the last song at the end for the altar call, something like that. But as far as that goes, I%u2019d say that we enjoyed singing at revivals more than we did singings. The reason is that when we first started singing, we%u2019d go to, say, a church up here in Morganton or wherever it was--they was all the same--there would be us, and be another group, and be another group, and there might be four groups. Of all them groups, most groups, they had their own equipment, and they had their mikes set for their voice, so they wanted to set their equipment, this group wants to set their equipment. When you get there, we was usually lagging behind always when we%u2019d get there at these singings; singings was always on Saturday night, then the pulpit was plumb cluttered, and excuse the language, but with all these instruments and mikes. Usually, we never did have time to even set or a place to set ours up. Of course, we didn%u2019t really care. We%u2019d just as soon stand around a piano and sing that way. Or sometimes--well, a lot of times, the groups wouldn%u2019t really care; %u201CYou can use our mikes,%u201D but some of them, they had them mikes so loud. We were just a particular type of people. We%u2019d rather sing around a piano or just sing with one mike, all of would gather around one mike, %u2018cause a lot of these groups, they%u2019d have them mikes so loud that even I--I%u2019d rather enjoy instead of endure somebody%u2019s singing, and you don%u2019t get nothing out of nobody%u2019s singing when they%u2019re so loud that it just rattles your eardrums and all. It seems like a lot of groups back then, the louder you was, the better you was. We just didn%u2019t ever go along with that. I enjoyed it and I know the group, we enjoyed revivals as much if not more than the singings because the singings, seemed like it was, %u201CHey, we%u2019re competing with you, and we%u2019re going to do this.%u201D We did go to a place up yonder, Old Fort. I%u2019ll never forget this: the man was about as rude as he could be, but, bless his heart, he didn%u2019t mean nothing by it. I found that out later. He was an old man, and we were singing a song, and Pat, she was singing the first verses of it, leading it, and anyway, we got done with the song. We got done and we sat down, and this elderly gentleman jumps up and says, %u201CSister,%u201D not talking to Pat, but to one of the members of their church, %u201CThat%u2019s the song you do, and you do it so good. Would you get up and do it for us?%u201D We could have crawled under the bench, and everybody in that church could have too. The preacher got up and he didn%u2019t know what to say, and he kept telling that man, you know. And that man still, %u201CCome on, sister,%u201D and she would not get up to save her life. I mean, he was just old-fashioned; he was in the mountains, way back in there, and it was an old-timey church. That was about the most embarrassing time we%u2019ve had, and I%u2019m sure the whole church there was embarrassed too, but that elderly gentleman, he just kept on insisting, but she never did get up and sing. Finally, I think his kids was with him, got him to sit down and be quiet, but he wanted her to sing that same song %u2018cause she could do a lot better job, or it felt like to him, and that was--I%u2019ll never forget that. That really stood out, but I don%u2019t hold it against him because I%u2019m sure that was just his way; he just didn%u2019t understand.
DR: Maybe it was his favorite song.
MC: And it was his favorite song, and he wanted her to sing it. Undoubtedly, she had done it often there at the church, and she maybe done it better, I don%u2019t know. But, in gospel music, that%u2019s something you need to point out--gospel music, it ain%u2019t %u201Cthey do better,%u201D or %u201Cthey do better.%u201D Gospel music is the message from it, through the grace of God. There%u2019s great singers in this old world that can carry a tune and harmonize great, but if they%u2019ve not got the spirit of God in them, it don%u2019t go no further; it%u2019s just entertainment. That%u2019s one thing I think is so unique about gospel, and I don%u2019t think it takes you very long, if you%u2019re a Christian, to find out who%u2019s singing from their heart and who%u2019s singing just to entertain.
DR: Do you have a favorite song that you like to sing?
MC: I%u2019ve got quite a few, but right offhand, I can%u2019t really think of one that%u2019s--. The only one I think of I like better than any of the rest of them is %u201CSon, Go Bring My Children Home.%u201D But now, that%u2019s a late-model song; I call it late model. It was written probably in the eighties, but it%u2019s a convention song. When I came up in the singing--see, I%u2019ve sung in the choir years ago. My dad always made us go, and we had a choir and we practiced every week, and I had to go to that practice. Once a year, we%u2019d get the singing convention books out of Nashville, Tennessee. Our church would order them, and they was just little convention books. Bentha, she was a member of our church and she was a teacher, and she%u2019d teach all of them. That%u2019s where we learned shaped notes, now. The singing convention books, we%u2019d never seen them songs before in our life. Then the lead singer would get up--all the lead singers would sing their do-re-mi%u2019s to get their right pitch, then alto would come on, and they%u2019d get their right pitch. Then the tenors would come on and get their pitch, and then the bass would sing notes and get their pitch. Then, the next time, we%u2019d all do it together, and that%u2019s how we%u2019d learn them songs. Some of them songs turned out to make--you know, I can%u2019t think of--I%u2019d say the biggest majority of all your gospel songs that made anything, at one time was in one of them convention books. I don%u2019t know if they still have convention books now or not; I guess they do, but we%u2019ve quit because we%u2019ve not got no music teachers in our church any more. Actually, it%u2019s sort of fading out to what it one time was, getting away from that, I think. Back then, it was a choir and singing, and our church too, we had singings once a month. Our church out here would have a singing, and then our church would go over to New Home, on the other side of Casar, and they%u2019d have a singing once a month. The church houses was full and the windows was up, and people sitting outside; that%u2019s how much people enjoyed it. And then, now, I%u2019m talking about before we started singing. That%u2019s the St. Paul Quartet, and Fred Hull, he was always the master of ceremonies, and he%u2019d get up and talk, and they might have four or five groups, them old singers. They didn%u2019t have mikes; they didn%u2019t have nothing back then.
DR: Can you tell me a little bit more about shape-note singing? When did you first--?
MC: I first got introduced to shape-note singing when we would get our convention books, the whole choir%u2026
DR: %u2026Your local church choir%u2026?
MC: Our local church choir, and we had a good choir. About all churches around here had good choirs. I%u2019d say we had a half a dozen lead singers that sung the lead, and we%u2019d have a half a dozen altos that was so strong they%u2019d make the roof come up, and we had tenor. We had several tenor singers, and bass, we%u2019d have four or five basses. These new songs in these convention books, see, we%u2019d never seen them before. Four-four time, three-four time and things like that, so it was really Greek to people that didn%u2019t know nothing. We%u2019d seen the words, but that was all. We didn%u2019t know how fast it went, how they went, so the music director, which was Bentha--we was fortunate Bentha was our pianist and she was a director. She would take them songs, and if--we%u2019d read through them first--and if we liked the message that the words said, then we%u2019d say, %u201CHey, let%u2019s try that one.%u201D So then, we%u2019d go back and each one would learn their notes, the shape notes, do-re-mi and how the rests was, and the four-four time. Wouldn%u2019t even use the piano, and then we%u2019d put all four parts together. We%u2019d probably work on one song one whole session, and if it really done good, then we would stick to that song, continue singing it. Later on, they done away with about all your music. Even the convention books went to round notes, which is basically the same thing; it%u2019s on the same measure bar, the same line. One thing I liked about shape notes, wherever the %u201Cdo%u201D--I started playing the guitar a lot--wherever the %u201Cdo%u201D note was, that was the key you%u2019d play in. If the %u201Cdo%u201D note on the treble clef was on G, the G note, you played G. If it was on C, you played in C. B-flat, E-flat, or whatever, D-flat, and that%u2019s one thing I liked about shape notes. Then after I learned a while and learned all the little symbols that was on the clef, then I knew what key to play in anyway. I guess shape notes, it was the thing years ago.
DR: What did you like about it?
MC: I guess %u2018cause I was just brought up with them. I guess that%u2019s all I ever knew %u2018til they went to round notes.
DR: How long was a rehearsal? How long did rehearsal last?
MC: Probably from seven o%u2019clock to nine or ten o%u2019clock. Two or three hours.
DR: What%u2019s the longest you%u2019ve ever sung?
MC: Gosh, I don%u2019t know. As far as the quartet, we%u2019ve sung all night. [Interruption] Talking about singing, we%u2019d go to New Year%u2019s. Of course, that%u2019s a lot of groups. New Year%u2019s Eve, about every year for about four or five years, Cherry Mountain, over next to Forest City, they%u2019d have an all-night singing. We%u2019d go over there, and--. Now, we didn%u2019t sing all night; about midnight we%u2019d take a break to the fellowship hall, and then we%u2019d come back and sing %u2018til about daylight, different groups. Now, there was more than one group, but as far as singing, that%u2019s how we%u2019d do it.
DR: And the guitar playing that you did was mostly by yourself, or with the choir?
MC: No, just by myself. Well, I played some with the choir every now and then. We%u2019d have Baptist Men%u2019s Day out here at the church, and a bunch of us men would play guitars and banjos. Rob Sailors, my uncle, he%u2019s a very good mandolin player, very good bluegrass; he done good. We%u2019d do that once a year.
DR: You got married; do you have kids?
MC: I%u2019ve got two kids.
DR: A boy, a girl?
MC: This is my son out here working with me, and my daughter, she lives in Hickory.
DR: Did either your son or daughter, did they get into music at all?
MC: Neither one of them. My daughter, me and her sung a lot at church when she was growing up. I thought I%u2019d get her interested in it, but that didn%u2019t last long; she%u2019s not interested. My wife, she%u2019s not interested. They enjoy hearing music, but as far as performing and participating in it, they don%u2019t.
DR: One of the big names in the Cleveland County and Shelby music worlds is Earl Scruggs. You mentioned that you enjoy listening to some of the music.
MC: Oh, I love bluegrass. As a matter of fact, I bought me a banjo, and I bought me a couple of Earl Scruggs learning books. I learned to play the banjo pretty good, but your heart%u2019s got to be in it. I mean, I love music. Don%u2019t get me wrong, but your heart%u2019s got to be in it. We have Hee Haw over here at Casar. We do a Hee Haw every year. We done that several years ago and I really enjoyed that. I played the banjo and guitar. [Interruption] We%u2019d do Hee Haw, and I played Doc. What was Doc%u2019s name on Hee Haw? But anyway, that%u2019s who I played over there at Casar. Oh, man, I enjoyed that as much as anything I%u2019ve ever done, and we done bluegrass and done all that. But that%u2019s very good, but I can%u2019t get back away from this Southern gospel music. For some reason, and I%u2019m not saying it%u2019s better than anything else, but it touches me better than any. Bluegrass, I love it, but I think the musical part of it is what really does me in on it; it%u2019s very good. I love to hear dobro, banjo, flat-top guitar. I%u2019m just amazed at some of these people. Little Roy Lewis and them, I tell you, they amaze me. I don%u2019t think they%u2019re the greatest singers in the world, but I love the way they make music. They%u2019re really good. Now, I don%u2019t know, there%u2019s a lot of good groups out there now. I%u2019m trying to think of the one that we go up here to Hominy Valley Primitive. We%u2019ve had them out here at church one time years ago. As a matter of fact, when we had them, they wanted our quartet to join with them. We prayed about it and thought about it and said no. That was when they first started too. They weren%u2019t that famous. You do know the Primitive Quartet? They was real nice boys and they was young and we were young, and they tried their best to get us to go with them, or wanted us to, and go with them just for a few times, but we prayed about it and we felt like that wasn%u2019t God leading us to get out of the community, so we stayed around.
DR: What about the community is so special to you?
MC: I%u2019ve just been here all my life, and everybody, I know everybody and everybody knows me. It%u2019s just the greatest community there is, right here in the upper end of Cleveland County. You can%u2019t beat Belwood and Casar. Dirty Ankle, I mean, it%u2019s the best place in the country.
DR: Dirty Ankle?
MC: Dirty Ankle. That%u2019s this community right above us right here. We all run around together. To my opinion, this is God%u2019s gift to this country, right here in this upper end of the county. I have no desire to ever leave and I think it%u2019s beautiful. These South Mountains--I%u2019ve got horses, and me and my daughter rode a lot back before she got married, and rode these trails up around South Mountain. That%u2019s the beautiful--I mean, I%u2019m in heaven when I%u2019m around like that. I love the countryside like this.
DR: Beautiful country, beautiful people?
MC: The people will do anything in this world for you. I%u2019m sure we%u2019ve got some pretty rough people, but as far as even when I was a kid, if a family got sick and got down and out, I can remember--I loved to do it, and, of course, I was a kid, now; I was just a teenager. Daddy and Mama would make us all go, and we%u2019d go out here to our neighbor%u2019s and we%u2019d shuck corn, plumb up into the night, and then we%u2019d get a Coca-Cola. I remember the first Coca-Cola I ever got, I went with my daddy to take a load of cotton to the gin, and we went down the old dirt roads all the way over here to the cotton gin, and we got there and my daddy bought me, me and my sister, Jane, we hid under the cotton, or didn%u2019t hide; that%u2019s how we kept warm %u2018cause it was fall of the year. We got to the cotton gin, and we stayed on the trailer until--%u2018cause it always lined up. There might be fifty trailer loads of cotton, and you had to wait %u2018til your turn to get to the gin to get them to pull it in. That was time to kill, and we%u2019d sit on the back of that trailer, and my daddy brought us a Coca-Cola. The first drink I drunk, it went out my nose and everywhere else. That was the strongest thing I ever drunk in my life, but I%u2019ll never forget that. Them little bitty Coca-Colas, they were stout. They were good too.
DR: How old were you?
MC: I was probably six, seven years old.
DR: Are you still a Coke drinker?
MC: I still drink one occasionally, but they%u2019re not nowhere near that strong now. You take a big swig of one back then, and I tell you, it was strong. But yeah, I enjoyed that and remember them old days good. And like I say, the families would get together. Hey, we%u2019d even go and pick cotton for people and not charge them nothing, right here in the community, because maybe the husband broke his leg or got sick and down and out, cancer or something like that. Of course, we didn%u2019t know what it was back then, but we know they was sick. All the kids would get together and although it was work, we had fun. We%u2019d cut up and have fun. All the grownups would get the corn together at a corn shucking and we%u2019d have a time--sing, we%u2019d sing gospel music then. Of course, didn%u2019t have no kind of instruments, but everybody would be a singing and taking on, the grownups would. Us kids, we didn%u2019t think that much of it; we%u2019d play and hoss around all the time. But this community around here, and I%u2019m sure every community is like it, but if this community heard tell of somebody hurting, they%u2019d go to them in a heartbeat, and it%u2019s still like that. This is a very, very close community. We%u2019ve got a lot--we%u2019ve got a bunch that moved in the last five or ten years from north and up north and different places, but they don%u2019t seem to want to fellowship with the rest of us because they%u2019ve got a different upbringing than we have. And you%u2019ve not got the farming to keep you tied together, so it%u2019s not as close-knit as it one time was. At one time, everybody knew everybody, but not no more.
DR: Why did you go from farming to working in a garage?
MC: Well, I seen very quickly, and my dad and mom and everybody encouraging me to find an occupation, even in school. Farming is not, in this area right in here, a farmer could just make a living for his own self, but if you want to make anything, you%u2019re going to have to get out of farming. Even schools taught us that, so in school, I was just trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life, and I guess I was like everybody else, didn%u2019t really know. I thought one time about going to the furniture factories. The biggest majority of people around here worked at the furniture factory at Hickory or the cotton mills in Lawndale or Shelby, one of the two places. I didn%u2019t want to go to no cotton mill %u2018cause I had picked cotton all my life and I just didn%u2019t think--that cotton mill wasn%u2019t for me, so I decided in the eleventh grade of school during the summer. I went to Hickory %u2018cause a lot of people around here worked and a lot of friends worked up there, older people. They got me a job in the summer. Hickory would hire you in the summertime up there. So I worked up there one summer, and I said right then, %u201CI ain%u2019t going to work in no furniture factory neither, unless I have to,%u201D %u2018cause they worked you to death and had all that old lacquer spray and all that stuff. It was hard on me, so I thought maybe I%u2019d go cut hair or something like that, and then I thought I didn%u2019t want to do that. But I always piddled with cars, and bicycles--I%u2019d tear my bicycle apart from one end to the other, tear the back end apart and fix it, and when I was sixteen and seventeen and eighteen, finally got an old Chevrolet car, me and my sister, we%u2019d take time about driving it. Why, I%u2019d tear it apart and work on it, so I thought well, I%u2019ll just go to mechanic school. I went to mechanic school at Hickory, Catawba Valley Tech, and come back and when I graduated from school up there, my dad knowed Hoyt Keeter, Mr. Keeter, the senior Keeter, and he said, %u201CWell, yeah, I%u2019ll hire him. Let him come down here.%u201D So I went to work down there in %u201963 and worked there from %u201963 to %u201973. Of course, I spent two years in service during that time. Then I decided it was just too far to drive back and forth to Shelby; I was just going to try it right here in my own community, try it and see if I could make it. So, I%u2019ve been here ever since %u201973, and I%u2019ve enjoyed it. I ain%u2019t made no killing, but I%u2019ve made a living; I%u2019ve raised my family here.
DR: You mentioned that some new people have been moving in over the past five, ten years. How has the community changed over your lifetime?
MC: Well, the closeness isn%u2019t here. Up until then, everybody%u2019s life centered around the church, but now, our churches, even our own kids don%u2019t even hardly want to go to church any more. I mean, your church houses ain%u2019t full. And none of these I can think of that moved in, and if you don%u2019t meet them--and see, we ain%u2019t got local stores. When I was growing up, we had a store on about every corner, and kids in their time off would go to the store and sit around and talk. That%u2019s where everybody met one another. We%u2019ve got people living within a mile around here, I don%u2019t know their names. I wouldn%u2019t know them when I seen them. They don%u2019t go to church with us. You meet them on the highway, or you think that%u2019s who they are, but I don%u2019t know, I guess it%u2019s a different society now than what it was then. Most everybody back then was kin to one another anyway. About everybody in this community, right in the St. Paul community right here, I%u2019d say about everybody was kin to one another, so that made a lot of difference. But now, we%u2019ve got so many that%u2019s moved in here that I don%u2019t really know. So you don%u2019t know whether they%u2019re good people or bad people. Of course, it%u2019s my fault or our fault, I guess, as it is anybody else, but you%u2019d think if they come to church or you had some local place to go to, like stores where everybody would meet, but now Wal-Mart has run--I guess it%u2019s Wal-Mart%u2019s run the local stores out. Supermarkets has run the little corner stores out. Casar, we used to everybody gather there, but there ain%u2019t nowhere to go now.
DR: What do you think the future holds for Casar and the community?
MC: I%u2019ll be honest with you. I think that twenty years from now, [pause] twenty years from now, there%u2019s not going to be no such thing as closeness and fellowshipping and church and stuff like that. We%u2019re getting so far away. I%u2019m just going by our own community here because we used to be so tight and so close and so many people, everybody knew everybody, but now, our church houses is half full. They%u2019re not even half full, and it is just [pause] people just seem like they%u2019re not interested. I don%u2019t know whether they%u2019re so discouraged or what it is now, the society that we%u2019re living in. For one thing, everybody%u2019s living in such a fast mode; they ain%u2019t got time for one another. People will still help you, especially here in the church, but it just ain%u2019t like it one time was; I can%u2019t put my finger on it. I don%u2019t know what it is, but I%u2019m probably just as bad as the rest of them. We%u2019re changing. Things that we used to like and everybody loved to do and stay together, we%u2019ve got away from that. Take Casar, well, the stores used to keep you together. We ain%u2019t got no stores. Tim Brackett is the only one in Casar now. We used to have, gosh, four or five filling stations, a hardware store, a shoe store, Brittains. We had all kinds of stores, the supermarket and three or four little grocery stores. Glenn Mead had one right here down the road. Jump on the tractor and run down there and get gas, get loaf bread. John Self had one at the top of the hill up here at 10; get gas, bread. Garland Buff had one yonder about a mile, and every night when people would get in from work, or the old men would, they%u2019d gather around at the stores and sit around and talk and gossip and take on, and that just kept the community tied together somewhat. Now, in Casar, all these stores are gone. The closest store now is one in Casar and one down here in Belwood, but they%u2019ve not got chairs around, and I think they%u2019re sort of telling you right quick, they don%u2019t want a bunch of people, men, sitting around talking and sitting around an%u2019 shooting the bull. So that leaves the communities with--there ain%u2019t communities no more hardly.
DR: Thank you for talking to me about all this stuff. I%u2019ve really enjoyed hearing your stories and things. Is there anything, like any stories or any thoughts that came up that you didn%u2019t have a chance to talk about yet or that you wanted to talk about before I came that we haven%u2019t talked about yet?
MC: Not really. No, I hadn%u2019t really thought that much about it. I%u2019m sure there%u2019s a lot. There%u2019s a lot, but no, right offhand, I can%u2019t really think of nothing that I can recall. Times is changing, and I think that%u2019s what made this country what it is. People%u2019s changed with it. Now, whether it%u2019s good or whether it%u2019s bad, I don%u2019t know, but we are changing, and I think we%u2019re going through the greatest change that there ever was right now in this administration, the way our government is, the way our state is. Things is not nowhere near like they one time were. Our workforces ain%u2019t the same, so, to survive, this community is just like everything else; we%u2019re going to have to change with it, whether we like it or whether we don%u2019t. Us older folks, it%u2019s bothering us, but I believe the younger folks is accepting it pretty well, the way things is.
DR: Well, thanks so much for taking some time out of your morning to talk with me. I really appreciate it.
MC: My pleasure.
END OF INTERVIEW
Transcribed by: Mike Hamrick
Date: November 27th, 2010
Edited by: Shannon Blackley
Date: June 2, 2011
Sound quality: Good
Max Cooke was born in Casar, NC, on September 24, 1945, and has lived there all his life (65 years at the time of the interview). He said most people farmed, including his family, raising cotton and all their own dairy, beef, pork and vegetables. He said people also worked at the textile mills in Shelby and the furniture factories in Hickory.
He has always lived on the land which belonged to his maternal grandmother, first in her house with his family including his two sisters, then the house his father built nearby and now the house he built on the property. He has been the owner and operator of Cooke’s Garage in Casar since 1973. Before that he worked as a mechanic for Keeter Ford in Shelby for 12 years. He is married with a son and a daughter.
His memories of growing up in Casar in the 40s, 50s and 60s focus on community life, which centered on the church. He remembers Sundays when 15 to 20 relatives came and sat on the porch visiting and talking mostly about farming. As an adult he became a founding member of the St. Paul Quartet and spent years singing at revivals and “singings” at Baptist churches in the area, including Rutherfordton, Morganton, and Hickory.
The quartet sang mostly with piano and a cappella.
He fondly remembered the closeness of the community where most people were related, and everyone knew and took care of each other, even helping to harvest each other’s crops if needed. Cooke said he regrets that things seem to be changing.
Purchase
Profile
Location: Charlotte, NC