Page 94 - barefoot-in-the-sand-remembering-the-waning-days-of-the-hopewell-community-(1998)-bruce-c-gragg

Barefoot In The Sand: Remembering the Waning Days of the Hopewell Community (1998) Bruce C. Gragg 90/123

HOPEWELL'S GEORGIA PREACHER

In the late forties we had a preacher Rev. A.B. West at Hopewell,
from Cordelle, Ga. Although he was up in years, he still had a very
unique sense of humor. Often when coming down he would ride the
Greyhound Bus, someone would meet him in Lake City. Sometimes he
would take the train and we would meet him in Fargo. He got the most
delight in riding the bus down on Saturday. Often for a lot of the
trip the bus would be crowded. For this trip he would carry a carved
wood snake in his coat pocket to help get some room to stand, if
necessary. This was when blacks sat in the back, and would stand.
Whenever they would get too close to him he would discreetly work the
head of the snake out of his pocket, then make a bit of a commotion
in getting the snake back where is was supposed to be. He got
standing room very quickly. All the whites seated got a great deal of
amusement from his antics. It worked. Of course he could not get away
doing something like that now.

He, with mama’s permission gave me my first gun. A Savage 22/410
over-under. I still have it, but I don’t get to shoot it very often
now. He thought every boy growing up should have a rifle to carry in
the woods with him. Sure enough often I had it with me, whether I was
walking or driving the jeep.

Most everyone in the neighborhood appeared to like him. At times when
Mama was not there to play the piano he would accompany us by just
playing cords on the piano. It was not as good as music played but it
helped cover for those not able to carry a good tune. He was a good
"Old Country Preacher." He died in his sleep in about 1949. He wore
false teeth, except when eating. He had a very very fast maneuver to
remove them to his pocket while eating, and he enjoyed good-ole
country cooking. He knew an evangelist from Atlanta who came down
about 3 years to do a revival in the summer. I don’t recall his first
name, his last name was Ryalls(sp). .He loved to fish and the weeks
he was 'there I knew what I would be doing, yep fishing! He gave me
some instruction and I got some practice paddling a boat, I didn't do
a real good job and he had to help me get out of a jam several times
that day. We didn’t always have real good luck catching fish but we
still enjoyed getting out in the peace and quiet. It was a relaxing
way to spend most of a day, under a shade tree, usually a Tupelo, on
the banks of the Suwannee, waiting for the big one to bite. Many
years ago logs and crossties were floated down river from our area,
and several places in the river now there are log heaps that can play
havoc when fishing. A fish will bite and immediately wrap the line
around a log. Now it is a matter of luck if you recover your line
with hook in tack. While fishing there Bro. Ryalls managed to loose
some hook and line several times on these logs. Once we got so
involved

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