People Remembered
Gussie Jones
After discharge from service, where I served in the Army Combat Engineers, I thought I had met the toughest people in the world. Here were men who, with a bayonet, would crawl on their stomachs and search, using their knife, probe just ahead of their position to find land mines, work around the clock to pour concrete for a needed runway, use explosives to demolish buildings or other obstacle, build bridges over roaring rivers at night prior to the main troops arrival. Tough Men! (long before women were allowed in combat situations.)
I went to work for a family owned business in East Tennessee in a town called Soddy. That says it all. There I met some of the finest people I have known. They were work hardened mountain people who, for the most part, considered outsiders very untrustworthy. They lived hard. In many homes , the restroom was in a shack outside, lighting was by lanterns, laundry was done in large iron pots over a fire outside. A wringer washer and indoor plumbing and power was akin to owning a Cadillac. Heat in the homes was by firewood or coal dug from their property. The men worked farming or logging and the women worked in factories.
If you drove around the area, which I did not recommend, you would find in many yards a car under a large tree with a chain running from a large branch to the car. The car would be on blocks and usually had someone working on it. These cars were being outfitted with huge rebuilt engines and very heavy suspension to haul local liquid products over the mountain and to outrun the law. This was the beginning of NASCAR.
The first day on the job, I was introduced to Gussie. She was about 5' 10" and big. At first, you might think she was fat until you saw her lift huge loads because she thought hand trucks was sissy. Her main job at the plant was sewing.We talked a lot over the years and learned to respect one another.
One time, I asked her about her life and she told me that she worked at the plant to have a work address for the Government. Her main income was from using sweet corn they grew to make whiskey. She brought me a sample one day in a Bell glass jar. It was clear as pure water. When you opened the jar, you could see fumes. A taste was really something akin to pure fire. She told me that her family ran whiskey only for local folk. She was angry at those competitors who made whiskey for the alcoholics over the mountain. She told me that her competition would put dead animals and other chemicals in the mash to make it work faster.
One day, as I was coming to work, I saw an ambulance with its lights flashing up by the railroad tracks. Southern Rail Road had a main line by the plant. The line came from up hill, down and around a long curve to come into Chattanooga. I asked Gussie what was going on. She said that I would probably see this ever so often because when someone did not pay for their wholesale liquor, cheated someone, or snitched to the law, they went to sleep and laid themselves across the Southern rails so the train would do the execution work for the aggrieved.
At that time we, along with most all the furniture industry, paid "piece work". It seemed the American thing to do by paying a person for the work they personally did. (Bad idea!!) Gussie prided herself in her speed in sewing so much that after work we had to cut the thread she had added to the motor pulley in order to increase the machine speed well past its limits. She was absolutely and unequivocally the best and meant to keep it that way every day. The Federal Government had just written laws for OSHA for safety in manufacturing. Tennessee had petitioned to assume the inspections. At the plant we were trying to conform.
One day, I got a call from the office that two gentlemen, they called "suits", were in the office to see me. I went upstairs and was greeted with the presentation of two identification badges. One was a Federal OSHA inspector and the other was the state OSHA trainee inspector. They advised they were there to make a formal inspection of the plant for safety violations.
The first area they wanted to visit was the sewing department. The good Lord was again watching over me. So we started down the sewing line and they proceeded to stop at Gussie's machine. They had their hands between her vision and the needle and were discussing how a guard should be placed on the needle. Gussie tried to push them away. They didn't get the hint. The machine started slowing down. They still didn't get the hint and had their hands blocking her vision. The machine stopped. Gussie reached down into her bag beside her and pulled out one of the largest guns I have seen. She told them in the most unladylike words to get their blankety - blankety out of her way and get out of the plant or she would execute them on the spot. I think I fainted.
Two suits scurried out of the plant and left a trail of tire smoke as they drove away. I would imagine it was hard for them to explain why they were run out of a plant by the employees they were trying to keep safe. During my time there, I don't recall another visit from OSHA.
There are many other stories about Gussie. I left that plant for supposedly bigger and better things, but I will never forget Gussie Jones. I take her with me in my memory where ever I go.
