One hot summer day in 1938, five lads in the small railroad village of Reevesville, Illinois ages about 14 to 16, decided to "hop a freight."  They were bored with fishing or swimming in Bay Creek, and playing their own version of baseball....that of whacking bottle caps with a broomstick.  None of them owned a baseball or bat, so the "home run" hit of this neat game was to lob the cap up on the roof of Jim Hard's General store.  Even such an exciting sport as that had grown stale, so they were eager listeners when one of them suggested they just take a little ride on one of the many freight trains that stopped in the little town to take on water and coal.  After all, sneaking into a boxcar when the train personnel were not looking shouldn't be so hard.  Hobo's did it all the time.  Just think!  Maybe the train would go all the way to Bluford!  What a great idea! 

     So Bud Choate , John Wendell Hard, James "Junior" Hard, "Joe Puddle", Troutt and the Hard's visiting cousin from Detroit, "Junior" Wolfe, somehow managed to climb aboard a car undetected. 

    This was a standard wood-floored boxcar with he doors left open, so our intrepid travelers found train travel just unalloyed bliss.  What a treat!  Just sitting there in the open door with their legs hanging out, enjoying the breeze watching the passing scene; countryside and little towns.   Adventure! 

    Of course, it hadn't occurred to any of them to take along a fruit-jar of water, or an apple.  So by the time they rolled into the Jefferson County town of Bluford, they were dying of thirst......and starving.....as adolescent boys always are. 

    Now, they had told that Detroit visitor they'd not dare ride on into the depot area, as the "railroad bulls" would spot them as "hobo's" and haul them off the jail.  So they would jump off before the train stopped.  What you did was....you just hit the ground running.  Sure. Okay.  So "city-boy" closed his eyes and jumped.....falling flat on his face in the cinders, of course.  By the time he got his wind and sat up, blood was running down his face.  Somebody had a handkerchief and mopped him up some.  Then they set out to find water. 

    They spotted a small building...probably an office for brakemen, or whomever, and through the open door saw a water fountain off to the side of the a desk where a man was working.  When he saw this motley crew heading, he jumped up, and shouted, "You G-D bums get out'a here.  Now!"  They got! 

    Figuring they'd had enough of Bluford, they set out to find a train that would take them back home.  They came upon a Railroad worker and asked him which train would be headed for Reevesville.  They must have found a sympathetic and kindly guy, because as they later thought about it, he could have pointed out a train that would be headed straight to Chicago! 

    So they were on their way home!  However....all the freight cards on that train were closed up.  Oh well, no problem, they would just ride on top.  That oughta be fun.  Just climb up that metal ladder on the end of the car (when nobody was looking) and sit up there in the breeze. 

    They negotiated a few short tunnels by quickly dropping face-down as the train slowly passed through, but when they arrived in Johnson County and had to ride through the big one at Tunnel Hill, that was another matter! 

     That one took a full five minutes and five boys were almost asphyxiated by the coal smoke and fumes before they finally emerged at the end with blackened faces and reddened eyes. 

    When a long last the train rolled into Reevesville, our fearless freight-hoppers jumped off, hoping to just nonchalantly join some other kids and pretend they'd been there all along.  Only to discover, standing beside the track, the Hard brothers' kid sister, Mary Low, who said dryly, "Dad's waitin' for 'ya."  

    --Shirley Cummins Wolfe

Although the metal “Pepsi” signs on each end of the front porch roof proclaimed the establishment as “Cummins General Merchandise”, most of Dad’s regular customers and the surrounding community knew and referred to the store merely as “Boots”.

Just prior to and during my early teens, I suspect the population of Reevesville had probably reached its peak, or may have even been well on its way of its decline. Around this time, I can recall the village as consisting of two churches, two restaurants, two stores, a school, a train depot, a coal chute and water towers, and only about forty houses.

Although remaining a small town, I can recall what seemed like a constant flurry of activity. Also, a trip through town on my bicycle would always find someone sitting on their front porch or under a shade tree willing to offer a friendly wave or conversation. (Unlike today with air conditioning and T.V., where one would have to have a good reason to intrude by knocking on a neighbor’s door.)

But, for now, let’s get back to “Boots” -- the small concrete block building that sat directly across the street from the grade school.

Most warm evenings would find a few local men relaxing (Loafin’) on the front porch, which was equipped with a couple of wooden rockers and two or three wooden milk crates (seats) provided to assure their comfort and to make them feel welcome. On the opposite end of the porch was an air compressor and a small vice mounted on the windowsill for anyone needing to make a “hot patch” repair to their deflated inner tube. Also, there was a single gas pump (29 cents /gal) with a second pump added later for dispensing premium leaded gas.

Just prior to entering the front screen door, customers would often pause to read the cardboard show bill, mounted directly to the right, to see what was playing at the Massac Theater or The El Capitan Drive-In (both located in Metropolis, not Reevesville). Eddie Clark operated both theaters and would send out a weekly show bill with two free tickets attached as payment for the advertising.

Stepping inside, to the left, was the Post Office. Mae Reeves was the Post Mistress for as far back as I can remember, with my sister, Joan Dowd, taking over after Mae retired and until it was later closed and removed from the store. My mother, Aline, would often fill in during their absence, which was likely due to illness, as I doubt vacations were considered during these earlier years.

Cleve Etheridge would deliver the mail from Vienna to Reevesville in his Dodge pickup truck, equipped with a homemade wood and canvas topper. Cleve would often sleep in his truck, under a shade tree, until it was time to take the outgoing mail back to Vienna at the end of the day. I don’t remember what he did in winter, unless he drove the extra trips back and forth to Vienna.

Everyone in town would come to the Post Office to get their mail six days a week. (Now looking back, this must not have set well with a few folks that would not otherwise set foot in the store.) A fair sized crowd would start gathering early, I suspect, so they could be the first, or among the first, to get their mail. Some would visit on the front porch, weather permitting. Others gathered inside, watching through the numbered glass windows of their mailbox, as if to guess what each piece of mail was, as it was placed into the box. The barred window was never opened until 9 AM sharp. At which time, the mail was handed out to those waiting. Waiting until nine sometimes made some patrons get upset, because, on slow days, when the mail was put up early, they felt it should be ok to hand it out early. (Rules were rules.)

Large shelves lined each side wall of the front room of the store – including the area behind the Post Office. In addition to a variety of groceries, the shelves were stocked with medicines, clothing and shoes. A variety of hardware, garden seeds, fresh fruits and vegetables, etc., (thus the name “General Merchandise” - not merely a grocery store).

The Post Mistress remained on duty until the mail went out at 3 PM. During this time, if a customer needed an item from behind this area of the store, she would get it for them. Everyone seemed to respect “Uncle Sam’s” territory and even after the Post Office closed for the day, I never went behind the Post Office except to get something for a customer or to restock the shelves. If someone was late getting to the Post Office before it closed, they were out of luck and had to wait until the following day to get their mail.

Next to the Post Office was a double decker glass display case about 10 feet long. The bottom section contained a variety of candy bars and bubble gum. The top contained jewelry (no diamonds), pocketknives, flashlights and batteries, and more.

Next was a wooden counter about 12 feet long, filled with drawers full of items for sale. On top were displays of various items including bolts of material, which could be rolled out, measured and cut, to the ladies delight.

In the back left corner was Dad’s roll top desk and chair, where he did most of his bookwork and record keeping. Above the desk hung the “Regulator” ticking off the long hours he kept the store open. (Six AM to 10 PM six days a week, 8-10 AM Sunday, closed for church and family, or to watch Cardinal baseball games when televised, reopened 4-6 PM.) Hanging on each side of the clock were items for sale such as a double bit and single bit ax, weed hooks, etc. A couple of rifles and shotguns, for sale or trade, hung directly over the doorway to the back room.

Taking up the remainder of the back wall was the “meat department”, consisting of a long white sloped front meat display case and behind this was a table and various saws, hand and electric, and cleavers used to cut meat to the customers orders. (No pre-packaged meat here.) Whether the customer ordered a pound of lunchmeat or pork chops, the first slice was always held up for the customer to inspect and approve.

Milk and fresh eggs were kept in the lower section of the meat case. A small wooden box with two holes in the front and a light bulb inside was used to inspect the yolks of the eggs to assure their freshness. I think this process was referred to as “candled”. Cans of lard and other items covered most of the top of the meat case. Also, on top was an Aladdin lamp, sitting ready for one of the frequent power failures.

Now, as we turn and head back down the other wall and toward the front door, there was another long wooden counter. Under the counter were various sizes of paper sacks for bagging the customer’s orders. On one end of the counter was a partitioned wooden box for the keeping of credit books in alphabetical order, according to last names. Next on the counter are the scales, used to weigh and calculate the price of meat and other bulk purchases. Also, the ladies of the community occasionally used the scales to weigh their babies. A cigarette display rack sat atop of the scales with the black and chrome bake-o-lite cash register next to the scales. The center section of the counter was kept clear for conducting business and placing paper bags of filled orders. A wooden box of seasonal fruits and vegetable and a calculator sat at the opposite end of the counter.

Next in line is a large “Pepsi” drink box filled with several brands of soda, chilled in cold water. Finally, next to the front door, is the ice cream box. Not long after I was old enough to work in the store by myself, Dad stopped selling hand dipped ice cream. It seems I was dippin’ too big of dips for my buddies or I was eatin’ up the profit, myself. Darn the luck.

The shelves along the wall behind this row of equipment were stocked with canned goods and cereals. All of the counters, cabinets, drink boxes, etc., were placed about two feet from the wall shelves, thereby, creating a walkway behind them. This walkway allowed us to reach items off the shelves, as the customer requested. Otherwise, the customer rarely picked up their own merchandise, except for items such as bread and pastries and flour and sugar, which were kept on the two racks positioned in the center of the floor area.

Cased goods and drinks waiting to restock the shelves, along with large hardware items, bulk motor oil, antifreeze and kerosene were kept in the back room, which was nearly as large as the front. In addition to helping “run” the store, Mom, on Saturday, used a centrifuge and other equipment, in a smaller back room, to separate cream from fresh milk brought in by local farmers, to sell or trade.

Fifty and 100-pound bags of livestock feed were kept in the “feed room” in a separate building out back. One of my duties was to accompany the ladies to the feed room so they could pick out which bag of feed to buy, as each bag came in a different color, pattern or design and, after emptied, would next appear as a fashionable dress.

Also placed throughout the store were a couple of chairs and a few wooden milk crates to welcome anyone who wanted to shop in comfort or, as often was the case, sit and visit. It was rare that Dad would be in the store alone. With no T.V. at home, it was not uncommon for some local men to stop in after supper and stay until closing time. A checkerboard or pinochle deck was often used to while away the long cold winter evenings.

Before we complete this trip, I would like to mention a few of the regular (and irregular) customers and visitors that seem, in some way, to stand out in my memory:

First, Mr. Bacon – and his full long white beard. (I never knew his first name – just Mr. Bacon.)

Buck Stafford and Jim Bazor both came in nearly every afternoon at almost the same time, after a days work on the ICRR. Buck would sometimes buy a “lean” pork chop for fish bait and Dad would say he would rather eat the pork chop than the fish.

Carl and Gladys Day (Ma and Pa, as they were known). Ma once came in the store and belched loud and long enough to shame a mule and Dad said, “way to go Ma”.

Carl Craig. He was blind but walked to Reevesville every few days from Hound Ridge. He walked the “Golconda Line”. I’m still amazed how he kept from tripping on the cross ties, especially across the old iron bridge crossing the Bay Creek. I was told he could tell, anyone that may ask, exactly how many cross ties there were from his home to Reevesville.

During WWII, Bobcat Jones married a Philippine woman and brought her back to the Hound Ridge community. I don't recall her name but she and her children often walked the tracks of the Rosiclare Branch of the ICRR to shop at the store. She often carried a bag of groceries home, balanced on her head.

Will Wright would often sit on the front porch for hours tellin’ tales and spittin’ tobacco juice. He would pull his lips tight with two fingers, for distance I suppose, and a stream of brown juice would fly 10 or more feet, with a dribble or two always remaining to run down his chin. I recall one tale he told about a recent squirrel hunt: He said, “I went squirrel huntin’ this mornin’ and shot two ‘shoots’ at a squirrel. The first ‘shoot’ missed him and the second ‘shoot’ hit him in the same spot.

Glenn and Bertha Wright, and a wagon full of kids, would drive their team of mules to town each Saturday to do their weekly shopping.

Walter and Alma McGinnis would drive their team of horses to town to do their weekly shopping. Myself and a couple of buddies would sometimes wait in the woods beside the road and watch him stop and rest his team half way up the hill. (Wish we could have heard that they sat and talked about.)

Sot Johnson, and sometimes his brother, Jess, would stop in. If Sot ever had any money, it was usually loose change. He would buy a loaf of bread, first, and if he had any money left, he would buy some bologna (referred to as “dog” in Reevesville). Rarely having enough left for a pound or half pound, he would ask for 15 cents worth. Sot also liked to catch Dad gone and Mom running the store so he could con her out of some credit. This was against Dad’s strict orders, but Mom couldn’t say no. Sot didn’t have a credit book, so mom would write it on a small piece of paper and tape it to the scales.

Looking back, I can’t imagine how such a small country store could possibly stock enough to supply the needs of so many people. I suppose it was only possible because folks didn’t have as many needs back then.

I hope you enjoyed the trip. I’m glad I was there and I thank God for a hard working Christian Mom and Dad.