April 19, 2013 Coats Museum News
Last week I promised that we would take a quick journey through the grading of one barn of tobacco. Usually the first barn graded and sold was referred to as the sand lugs which were the bottom leaves on the tobacco stalk and hence were sandy because of their close contact to the plowed dirt and the spatter of raindrops up onto the leaves. A great deal of the sand was lost as it was handled from field to strip room. Some of it went into the eyes, face and hair of the hander as the stringer flipped green, sandy leaves over the tobacco stick. Other sand fell upon the one who happened to be under the sticks as they were passed down or up to their various points of travel inside the tobacco barn.
Consequently, much of the sand was gone when the dry sand lugs were removed from the penned tobacco and stacked into a pile of about 10 sticks if they were being “toted” by someone to the ordering pit, but if the sticks were passed on to a trailer, only two sticks at a time were handled and passed into the ordering pit for moisture to be returned to the leaves to prevent their crumbling when being graded.
Sometimes there was excitement in getting the tobacco to the pit. Keep in mind that these lugs had been in a penned position for six or seven weeks and lots of things could have happened in that time frame. For one thing, the tobacco could be molding if the stems had not been completely dried. This decaying gave the leaves of gold a blackish, grayish, creamy color and the aroma of the sweet smelling cured leaf was replaced by one much less pleasant to the nose. It also demanded extra attention to grade. Molded tobacco was not a good thing.
Another common occurrence was the invasion of a pregnant mouse into a pile of tobacco and turning it into a maternity ward. Just about the time the tobacco was to be taken to the ordering pit, the tiny pink newborns were the perfect size for being used by older brothers to chase their little sisters through the maze of tobacco piles and out into the barnyard. That is what older brothers did-right?
Once the tobacco was dampened from the overnight stay in the pit, its next stop was to get it into the strip room. The door in the floor was lifted and hooked to the wall. Someone in the pit would pass up two sticks to someone in the strip room. The fear of tumbling head first down into the pit was common among young siblings as they retrieved the sticks and passed them to someone who packed them down in that familiar wind row pattern before the tobacco was stripped from the sticks. Sometime the older brother would tease a younger sibling by tugging on the sticks just as the younger one was pulling them up. This of course always caused the younger sibling to squeal in fear of going headfirst into the dark dungeon. Have you guessed by now that I was a younger sibling with a somewhat mischievous older brother?
Once a sizeable pile of tobacco had been removed from the ordering pit, it was time to strip off the leaves from sticks. The youngest sibling usually was responsible for removing or taking off the tobacco from that same wooden horse that was used to loop the green leaves a few weeks earlier. The cotton twine that had held the tobacco onto the stick had to be broken and was usually done so by pulling it across the end of the stick to break it. Sometimes the twine was tough to break and a small cut occurred in the first joint of the forefinger. These fingers were tender for they had done only easy jobs around the curing barn where the hardest task they had was trying to get the doodlebug to leave its home in the sand underneath the tobacco barn bench before his house fell in.
After taking off the leaves which was an easy process by pulling alternating leaves from the stick, the string was broken when it became too long to handle the leaves. The strings were dropped into a box or can that eventually looked like a pot of boiled over spaghetti-with the noodles hanging over the side of the pot.
The loose tobacco leaves were placed straight on the end of the tobacco grading bench where the graders could pick up a large handful to be placed on the lap. Some graders used a section of the newspaper or a brown paper bag to prevent the leaves from falling onto the floor.
The grader would take each leaf and evaluate it as to a grade. The golden leaves were separated from the less golden leaves, the brown ones, the green ones and whatever other grades the farmer had been advised to keep separate. No, I am not joking. In fact I forgot to mention that they even had a grade called trash. The bench was divided into sections to accommodate the various grades.
Facing the graders on the opposite side of the grading bench were those who tied the tobacco leaves together. These individuals, usually older siblings, would take a particular grade and place these leaves onto their lap. They would gather up a bunch of the leaves between the thumb and forefinger to make a bundle with the stems even and being held very tightly. They then secured them with a folded leaf wrapping it about three inches around the top of the silver dollar sized bundle with the stem end of the leaf being tucked into the center of the bundle and pulled tightly.
The bundles were placed beside the chair of the ones tying the tobacco until a large pile was tied and then the bundles were placed into those various boxes along the wall of the strip room that were described earlier. Late in the afternoon, or at night, the tied grades were removed from the boxes and were put onto smooth grading sticks that had notches on the end of them to denote grades such as one knotch was used for the first grade and so forth. You think I am kidding, don’t you?
The bundles of tobacco were split in the middle to fit over the stick and the stick held many bundles. The sticks of bundled tobacco were then packed down in the same wind row pattern mentioned earlier. Once the barn was all graded, then it was taken from the pile and placed onto a truck. It was covered with a tarp and was driven to the warehouse for sale. Pay day was finally here.
Have times changed? I do know that the Grand Reopening of the Coats Museum was a huge success. We had people to come from other states, other counties, other towns and from Coats. What did you think of the 1911 car that Leo McDonald restored? That car was one of the very first cars in Coats and it belonged to Roger and Mary Penny Coats. Thanks-Leo. No one can imagine the number of hours, money and sweat that went into museum expansion project. Would we do it again? If you could have seen the faces of the visitors of all ages as they toured the museum, the answer to that question is a no brainer.
Read next week for an update on recent donors to the memorials and honorariums for the museum.
PLEASE BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ARTICLE APPEARED IN THE DAILY RECORD ON APRIL 19, 2013.
Last week I promised that we would take a quick journey through the grading of one barn of tobacco. Usually the first barn graded and sold was referred to as the sand lugs which were the bottom leaves on the tobacco stalk and hence were sandy because of their close contact to the plowed dirt and the spatter of raindrops up onto the leaves. A great deal of the sand was lost as it was handled from field to strip room. Some of it went into the eyes, face and hair of the hander as the stringer flipped green, sandy leaves over the tobacco stick. Other sand fell upon the one who happened to be under the sticks as they were passed down or up to their various points of travel inside the tobacco barn.
Consequently, much of the sand was gone when the dry sand lugs were removed from the penned tobacco and stacked into a pile of about 10 sticks if they were being “toted” by someone to the ordering pit, but if the sticks were passed on to a trailer, only two sticks at a time were handled and passed into the ordering pit for moisture to be returned to the leaves to prevent their crumbling when being graded.
Sometimes there was excitement in getting the tobacco to the pit. Keep in mind that these lugs had been in a penned position for six or seven weeks and lots of things could have happened in that time frame. For one thing, the tobacco could be molding if the stems had not been completely dried. This decaying gave the leaves of gold a blackish, grayish, creamy color and the aroma of the sweet smelling cured leaf was replaced by one much less pleasant to the nose. It also demanded extra attention to grade. Molded tobacco was not a good thing.
Another common occurrence was the invasion of a pregnant mouse into a pile of tobacco and turning it into a maternity ward. Just about the time the tobacco was to be taken to the ordering pit, the tiny pink newborns were the perfect size for being used by older brothers to chase their little sisters through the maze of tobacco piles and out into the barnyard. That is what older brothers did-right?
Once the tobacco was dampened from the overnight stay in the pit, its next stop was to get it into the strip room. The door in the floor was lifted and hooked to the wall. Someone in the pit would pass up two sticks to someone in the strip room. The fear of tumbling head first down into the pit was common among young siblings as they retrieved the sticks and passed them to someone who packed them down in that familiar wind row pattern before the tobacco was stripped from the sticks. Sometime the older brother would tease a younger sibling by tugging on the sticks just as the younger one was pulling them up. This of course always caused the younger sibling to squeal in fear of going headfirst into the dark dungeon. Have you guessed by now that I was a younger sibling with a somewhat mischievous older brother?
Once a sizeable pile of tobacco had been removed from the ordering pit, it was time to strip off the leaves from sticks. The youngest sibling usually was responsible for removing or taking off the tobacco from that same wooden horse that was used to loop the green leaves a few weeks earlier. The cotton twine that had held the tobacco onto the stick had to be broken and was usually done so by pulling it across the end of the stick to break it. Sometimes the twine was tough to break and a small cut occurred in the first joint of the forefinger. These fingers were tender for they had done only easy jobs around the curing barn where the hardest task they had was trying to get the doodlebug to leave its home in the sand underneath the tobacco barn bench before his house fell in.
After taking off the leaves which was an easy process by pulling alternating leaves from the stick, the string was broken when it became too long to handle the leaves. The strings were dropped into a box or can that eventually looked like a pot of boiled over spaghetti-with the noodles hanging over the side of the pot.
The loose tobacco leaves were placed straight on the end of the tobacco grading bench where the graders could pick up a large handful to be placed on the lap. Some graders used a section of the newspaper or a brown paper bag to prevent the leaves from falling onto the floor.
The grader would take each leaf and evaluate it as to a grade. The golden leaves were separated from the less golden leaves, the brown ones, the green ones and whatever other grades the farmer had been advised to keep separate. No, I am not joking. In fact I forgot to mention that they even had a grade called trash. The bench was divided into sections to accommodate the various grades.
Facing the graders on the opposite side of the grading bench were those who tied the tobacco leaves together. These individuals, usually older siblings, would take a particular grade and place these leaves onto their lap. They would gather up a bunch of the leaves between the thumb and forefinger to make a bundle with the stems even and being held very tightly. They then secured them with a folded leaf wrapping it about three inches around the top of the silver dollar sized bundle with the stem end of the leaf being tucked into the center of the bundle and pulled tightly.
The bundles were placed beside the chair of the ones tying the tobacco until a large pile was tied and then the bundles were placed into those various boxes along the wall of the strip room that were described earlier. Late in the afternoon, or at night, the tied grades were removed from the boxes and were put onto smooth grading sticks that had notches on the end of them to denote grades such as one knotch was used for the first grade and so forth. You think I am kidding, don’t you?
The bundles of tobacco were split in the middle to fit over the stick and the stick held many bundles. The sticks of bundled tobacco were then packed down in the same wind row pattern mentioned earlier. Once the barn was all graded, then it was taken from the pile and placed onto a truck. It was covered with a tarp and was driven to the warehouse for sale. Pay day was finally here.
Have times changed? I do know that the Grand Reopening of the Coats Museum was a huge success. We had people to come from other states, other counties, other towns and from Coats. What did you think of the 1911 car that Leo McDonald restored? That car was one of the very first cars in Coats and it belonged to Roger and Mary Penny Coats. Thanks-Leo. No one can imagine the number of hours, money and sweat that went into museum expansion project. Would we do it again? If you could have seen the faces of the visitors of all ages as they toured the museum, the answer to that question is a no brainer.
Read next week for an update on recent donors to the memorials and honorariums for the museum.
PLEASE BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ARTICLE APPEARED IN THE DAILY RECORD ON APRIL 19, 2013.
