The Old-fashioned Picnic
It used to be a grand occasion in many
North Carolina towns and was an event
w'liich was looked forward to with great
anticipation by young and old alike.
By EDGAR AUEKAETllY
IN my boyhood, in the years im¬
mediately preceding the First
World War, there were two great
festivals in my calendar: Christmas
and the Picnic. Christmas is still
Christmas, but so far as I know the
other event is entirely extinct. In
those days, however, the ‘‘Farmers’
Picnic and Old Soldiers’ Reunion”
wns an established institution; at
least, it was in Gaston County. Its
ostensible purpose was to honor the
Confederate Veterans, but its function
as an occasion for public merry¬
making seems to have been more
important.
In Stanley, then a village of only
a few hundred inhabitants, it was
an annual mid-summer event, and at¬
tracted thousands of visitors every
year. Preparations began long before
the big day.
The Preliminary Work
Business men borrowed farm
wagons, which by ingenious use of
carpet tacks and crepe paper they
transformed into "floats” for the
parade.
Local merchants built rough
“stands” in front of their stores,
where they prepared to dispense ico
cream and cold drinks in wholesale
quantities.
The local base-
hull team put in
some extra time
practicing for the
big game which
was the climax of
the
ос
c a s i
о
n.
Sometimes they
may have bol¬
stered their
strength a bit by
quietly securing
a few outside
players.
The Seaboard
Air Line R. R.
announced excur¬
sion rates, and
added coaches to
regular trains
for the day.
The baud engaged for the occasion
in some nearby town met for extra
rehearsals, where they polished up
their repertoire.
Housewives killed chickens and
sliced ham and prepared for a hard
morning in the kitchen, for everyone
in town was certain to have company.
And small boys simply couldn’t go
to sleep the night before, and woke
before daylight on the morning of
the big day.
For that matter, people for miles
around must have been early risers
that morning. The July sun had
hardly dried the dew from the grass
along the streets when the first visitors
began to arrive. Whole families, even
to babes in arms, were packed into
buggies, surreys, and even an oc¬
casional wagon; everybody dressed in
his Sunday clothes. Natty young
gentlemen, wearing the very latest
in peg-top pants, hard straw hats,
and elastic arm bands, arrived in
stylish rubber-tired buggies with red
wheels, drawn by high-stepping
horses. They were accompanied by
their best girls, who, with hair just
out of curl papers, were dressed with
equal style.
Roth livery stables were prepared
for a rushing business, but of course
they couldn’t begin to accommodate
the hundreds of horses and mules.
They were hitched' all over town,
wherever there was a grove or a few
trees to provide shade and hitching
places, and added a pungent odor to
the intoxicating blend composed of
cigar smoke, ice cream, lemonade,
dust, perspiration, talcum powder,
and what have you.
Even before either train arrived,
the town’s business section, consisting
of one street a couple of hundred
yards long, was crowded. There were
few mid-way attractions: an oc¬
casional itinerant vender of toy bal¬
loons; infrequently a demonstration
of an improved plow or canning out¬
fit; perhaps a pitch game or so; and,
very rarely, a merry-go-round, made
up the list.
Everyone was quite happy all the
same, simply walking up and down
the street, while they smoked holiday
cigars, ate ice cream cones, and drank
lemonade. The lemonade was dipped
up from open galvanized wash tubs in
which floated huge chunks of ice.
Sanitation was definitely still around
the corner.
Arrival of the Trains
The “down” train came in about
the middle of
the morning, and
disgorged hun-
d r e d s of pas
sengers from
half a dozen ex¬
tra conches. By
the time the
"up" train dis¬
charged its load,
t h e congestion
was really
terrific.
The band
came in on one
of the trains. Be¬
fore thp train
was out of sight,
t h e musicians
had set up their
music stands,
and unpacked
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