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Holmes County’s own Sue Riddle Cronkite and her new novel.

“There’s a sweet, sweet spirit in this place.”

SUE RIDDLE CRONKITE begins each chapter of her new novel, Louette’s Wake, with a few lines from one of the old gospel hymns popular in our part of the world. She didn’t include this one, but it’s evident nevertheless on nearly every page of her story.

Sue grew up in New Hope, another little Holmes County community just a few miles down the Hog and Hominy Highway from Esto, on the other side of the river. She’s part of the storied Riddle clan. And even though she went on to become one of the pioneering newspaperwomen of her generation — with a decade as a reporter and editor at the Birmingham News, among other stops — she’s never gotten far from home.

Sue came back to the area in the mid-1980s to become the founding editor of a new daily newspaper in Dothan, Alabama, called Wiregrass Today. That’s when I met her, introduced by our mutual friend E.W. Carswell, another notable newspaper reporter who became the historian of our stretch of the Florida Panhandle during his long career as a staff writer and columnist for the Pensacola News-Journal.

Sue turned me down for a job on her new paper. The publisher didn’t want some college boy who thought he knew it all about exactly the kind of newspaper our area needed. Sue said there was no place for me, which left me with no excuse not to take the opportunity I’d been offered to become editor and publisher of a magazine for lawyers in California.

Instead of a job on an upstart Alabama newspaper that folded after its first year, I got a lifelong friend. She and I have kept in touch across the years and miles and had an occasional visit. So it was a treat to hear a few weeks ago that she’d published the novel that had been rolling around in her mind for many years. I ordered my copy from Downtown Books and Purl in Apalachicola, where Sue now lives, and read it on a recent trip back home to the Florida Panhandle.

In short: It’s terrific. The book lives up to its billing as “an uplifting southern tale,” one that takes place in New Hope and across the state line in Geneva, Alabama. It’s a gentle story that centers on Louise Ella Kelly’s decision to throw herself a wake while she’s still alive. Even more impressive than the story is the writing, which manages in its simple words to capture the particular idioms and cadence of the way we talk — without the false dialect and ignorance and ain’ts and y’alls usually larded into books with a southern accent.

You’ll know these people, and their ruminations, and the honest country food they eat. For those who don’t — Yankees, maybe — she includes recipes at the end for chicken and dumplings, collard greens and chocolate fudge cake, among others. “Buy a big bunch of collard greens off the back of Lige’s pick-up truck, if he comes around,” that one begins.

On my recent trip home, after a couple of dozen of Apalachicola’s finest oysters, I stopped to visit Sue and collect her autograph on a few more copies of her novel I’d picked up at Downtown Books. I found her nearly finished with her next novel, this one involving Esto’s own Two Toe Tom, the legendary alligator that spawned an annual festival in my home town.

“I don’t have any aches and pains,” Sue told me, although the accumulation of years would give her every right. It’s a good thing, since she may have to live forever to finish all the stories she’s started to tell.

My advice: Call Downtown Books and Purl in Apalachicola at 850-653-1290 and ask them to send you a copy of Louette’s Wake. They have yarn, too, if you need any. You could order Sue’s book on Amazon, but it won’t be as good. I promise you’ll love it.

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AN EMAIL ARRIVED offering a treasure. “If you did not get a copy of the Two Toe Tom Cookbook, prepared in the early days of that famous celebration, I will tell you that we have located one and it is a classic.”

The message was from Perry Wells, the longtime county judge in neighboring Washington County. Judge Wells, now 90, has led a long and distinguished life and has many outstanding qualities to recommend him — none more important than his wife, Hester Lee Lucas Wells, who he referred to as “my Esto girl,” since she grew up near Ten Mile Creek and went to the Esto School. I looked up to her father, Herbert Lucas — a true gentleman — when we both worked at Bunk Johnson’s gas station down at Holland Crossroads. Perhaps because of that, I have always felt a little bit kin to Perry and Hester.

Of the cookbook, he wrote that it has “many contributions of some of Esto’s finest ladies’ noted cooking skills.” It was one of many local cookbooks Hester had collected. Since her death last year, Perry has gradually been letting go of some of her treasures, including her cookbook collection. The Two Toe Tom cookbook, he said, “is yet unspoken for.”

I couldn’t get a crisp new $20 bill — the asking price — in the mail fast enough to his address on Judge Perry Wells Highway in Chipley. In due time, a package arrived. Inside was a pristine copy of the cookbook, published as part of the festivities surrounding the very first Two Toed Tom Festival back in 1987, along with a note from Perry:

“I will not deface the cookbook with an autograph, thus keeping it in its purest form,” he wrote. “I know you will find much interesting reading — and the names of so many contributors make it even more special. Hester would be proud to know the book is in your hands. She always spoke kindly of Cottontop Reynolds as the husband of your mother and the father of the son she described as “everybody’s baby in Esto.”

The cookbook was, as Perry promised, a treasure. There was Lynette Crutchfield’s recipe for Squash Relish, her daughter Brenda Sasser’s recipe for Shortnin’ Bread, and her sister Martha Sue Register’s recipe for Cabbage Soup. There was Mrs. Walter (Gladys) Dixon’s recipe for Tater Gravy, and Charlene Godwin’s recipes for Chuck Roast — “so easy,” it said — and Sweet Potato Casserole, Peach Pie and Buttermilk Pie.

It was like calling the roll of the ladies in Esto. I’d eaten at many of their tables, and had nearly everyone’s cooking at a dinner on the grounds at the Baptist church or some other community event.

I doubt Sue Worthy Champion ever actually cooked Gator Tail ‘n Taters. “Boil gator tail in large pot with black pepper, salt and red pepper until tender,” the recipe said. But it seemed appropriate in a cookbook dedicated to a legendary alligator said to live in Old Sand Hammock.

By far the biggest section was Cakes, Cookies & Desserts. Esto ladies baked great cakes. There was Louise McGowan’s recipe for Peanut Cake, her niece Dorothy Nell Miller’s recipe for Chocolate Pound Cake and Mary Nell Joiner’s recipes for Lemon Cheese Cake, Moist Coconut Cake and Lane Cake, a special holiday favorite. Mary Nell had a business baking cakes for other people for quite a few years, although Annie Laura Kidd always sniffed, “She uses cake mix,” a cardinal sin. Sure enough, her recipe for Caramel Peanut Butter Cake noted: “You may use a yellow cake mix.”

And then, on page 113, I ran into a surprise: my mother’s Chocolate Cake. Mother had died earlier that year, before the cookbook project began. But she was a great cook, and she was known for her 12-layer chocolate cake. Somebody must have decided it should be included. I’ll never make it, but I’m glad it’s in the book.

That $20 I sent Judge Perry Wells was some of the best money I’ve ever spent.

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With first cousin Paul Hughes in our backyard in Esto on my 8th birthday. He was 6.

DR. J. PAUL HUGHES had a head start on life by being born to parents who lived in Esto, an idyllic little town on the Alabama-Florida line. They lived on the south side of the railroad tracks, near the Wellses and some of the Kirklands. Motor and Humpy Pitts also lived nearby, a little farther back into the woods.

Paul’s grandparents, Ethel and Cullen Hughes, lived a couple of blocks away, if we’d had blocks back then in Esto. So did his father’s sister, known in the family as Doll, who was my mother. Paul and I were close in age — I’m two years older — and we were playmates as far back as I can remember.

What I recall most fondly about Paul’s early years is when Uncle Leonard and Aunt Sarah bought him a swimming pool — just a little above-ground tin-sided round pool that held about two feet of water, but it seemed rich in a time and place where swimming was done in Ten Mile Creek. Paul and I spent hours in that pool, which sat out in their yard beside a big stinky gardenia bush. Our favorite game was to hold our noses and dive underwater, looking to be the first to find the bottle cap one of us had thrown backwards over our shoulder.

As we got a little older, our hobbies grew more sophisticated. We began collecting and identifying rocks we found on nearby dirt roads. We used our crayons to draw flags from countries around the world. Eventually we took up stamp collecting. We claimed a corner of Mama and Papa’s junk house and set up the H&R Hobby Shop. Why his name came first I can’t imagine, although it’s true he always was a little smarter.

Wells Grocery Store sat just beside Mama’s house. One day Mr. Wells decided to put in a coin laundry. The washers and dryers came in huge cardboard boxes, and we had weeks of fun playing in those big boxes.

Perhaps inevitably, Esto became too small for Paul. He and his parents moved across the state line to Hartford, Alabama, about 10 miles north. We thought they were puttin’ on airs by moving to town, but off they went, and into a new brick house, no less. Our play days were over.

But we remained friends. Years later, after he’d finished college and medical school, he came to live with me in Chicago for a few months while he interned at Cook County Hospital. By then our hobbies and interests were considerably more refined. I especially remember dollar pitchers of beer at Streeter’s Tavern on Thursday nights.

He became a brilliant physician, an astute investor and a talented musician who played many instruments and recorded quite a few albums. But he never lost his taste for beer. It did him in, at only 61, three days before Christmas. He will be buried this morning near home in the Hartford cemetery.

OBITUARY | Dr. J. Paul Hughes (1957-2018)

 

 

FOR MANY YEARS, “going to the store” in Esto meant going to Wells Grocery. It was the heart of our little town when I was growing up. Nearly everybody would stop by before noon to pick up the mail. No day was complete without a cold drink and a visit with proprietor Jeanette Wells.

The charge accounts in her general store called the roll of our little town. Some were never paid. But no one went hungry or without love when Jeanette was with us. She was laid to rest in the Esto cemetery this afternoon. If she didn’t get to heaven, no one will.

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Most business at Wells Grocery was done on credit.

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The Esto School offered instruction in grades one through nine until it was closed in 1949.

By E. W. CARSWELL

The saddest day in Esto’s history may have been September 9, 1949 — the day the community’s school was closed.

“It was the equivalent of experiencing a death in the family,” one former student observed. The community had never appeared more lifeless than it did in the weeks following the closure of Esto Junior High School, where instruction had been offered from grade one through grade nine.

Local townspeople were met with ghostly silence from a horseshoe-shaped one-story frame school building on a hillside just north of Esto Baptist Church on the western side of Highway 79. Absent were the voices of children, who for years had gathered at the school on weekday mornings to begin classes. After the school closed, they started boarding buses a little earlier instead, heading for schools in Bonifay, the Poplar Springs community or Hartford, Alabama. Lumber from the former school was used in the construction of several houses in the community.

Some Esto residents more than 40 years later seemed still unreconciled to the loss of their local school. Those sentiments promoted a feeling of uncommon closeness among those who attended the school. It was not unexpected, then, for former students to suggest that a school homecoming be added to Esto’s annual Two-Toed Tom Festival in 1991.

Betty George, who had attended the school, organized the homecoming, which became a regular part of the festival for a few years. In an interview for Florida Public Radio in 1993, she recalled fond memories the school, and marveled at how many former students showed up for the reunion.

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She came from notoriety in Chicago to a farm just south of Esto, briefly.

AN EMAIL ARRIVED: “I’m writing a book about a woman named Linda Taylor, who was known as the ‘welfare queen’ in Chicago in the 1970s,” wrote Josh Levin, editorial director of the online magazine Slate. Ronald Reagan helped make her infamous in his campaign speeches when he was running for president, vilifying her as a con artist who picked up multiple welfare checks and food stamps in her Cadillac. Although Reagan exaggerated, it turns out there really was such a person.

Then Mr. Levin dropped the bomb that she once lived in Esto:

After her period of infamy, she moved to Florida and changed her identity, going by the name Linda Lynch. She lived in Esto (or just outside Esto) around 1985 — it was at the intersection of Hwy. 79 and Hwy. 2, and I’ve seen it described as the ‘old Pelham Farm.’

The property Linda Lynch bought was foreclosed on in October 1985, which means she was probably there for about six months. She was mixed race, and she had two older black people living there with her.

I’m wondering if any of this rings a bell for you or if you might know someone (or some people) who remember her.

Well. Here was a piece of unlikely Esto history I’d never heard — and wouldn’t have believed, if he hadn’t attached evidence.

Mr. Levin has now talked to at least two local residents who knew the woman during the brief time she lived near Miller’s Crossroads. We eagerly await his book.

Meanwhile, here’s an extensive article he wrote about her earlier exploits in Chicago.

REVIEW from The New York Times: “The Queen” by Josh Levin

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AZALEAS ARE BOUNTIFUL every spring, and so are wisteria vines. But this year what’s most striking are fields and fields of Indian cane. It’s a weed that shows up before the fields are plowed and planted. We used to pull it up and chew it when we were kids, although it didn’t offer much taste or kick.

A drive around the dirt roads near Esto offers signs that spring is upon us.

 

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A TRIP HOME to Esto almost always includes a visit with my mother and grandmother in the Esto cemetery, along with so many other good people I have known and loved. The history of our town is told in those headstones.

This trip brought a special treat: After church on Sunday, we all adjourned to the fellowship hall for fried chicken, peas, creamed corn, fried okra and other delicious Southern delicacies. Naturally we gathered around the piano afterward to sing hymns.

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Jeanette Wells Berry (right) and her sister Louise Wells McGowan with a 16-layer chocolate cake at John Clark Park in Esto.

GROWING UP IN ESTO, we always had plenty of good food. Some of the best was served up when the neighbors got together for a fish fry, or after church at an old-fashioned dinner on the grounds — lately served in the air-conditioned fellowship hall.

The ladies in Esto were always especially good at baking cakes. I remember Lane cakes and fruitcakes at Christmas, coconut cakes stacked high, red velvet cakes white on the outside and bright red on the inside, lemon cheese cakes — none of them better than a simple pound cake with a raw streak. Best of all for really special occasions was a towering chocolate cake made of many thin layers, with fudgy crystalized chocolate frosting between every layer and all over the outside. It had more frosting than cake.

So it was a happy surprise to turn to the food section of The New York Times, no less, and find a feature on Southern cakes — dateline Hartford, Alabama, just 10 miles north of Esto — celebrating what they called the “Chocolate Little Layer Cake” as a specialty of our corner of the country. That it is.

MORE: “Stacked Up Southern Style“

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Holmes County Advertiser, May 11, 1967

A NEW LIBRARIAN arrived with the beginning of the sixth grade. Dianne Smith took over from longtime librarian Miss Louisa Hutchinson, who had gotten married very late in life and retired.

The new librarian was brimming with ideas, including a reading contest for sixth graders. For months we had to choose books from a reading list and then be quizzed by Mrs. Smith. When it was all over, the smartest girl in our class had been bested by Danny Henderson, who would soon move with his family to Esto.

A picture of the winners appeared in the weekly Holmes County Advertiser — a high honor in itself — with a story that explained: “The purpose of the reading contest was to acquaint the students with the best books in the library in the hopes they would discover the pleasure of reading and would be encouraged to do more reading on their own.”

The contest ran almost all school year, from October 1966 to May 11, 1967. The Advertiser story explained how it worked.

Mrs. Orren Smith, librarian, prepared a reading list from which the contestants chose the books. The list included selections of fiction, biography, mythology, science, art, music and history. Most books counted one point, but selections from the classics or books of special value counted more.

After reading a book, the student would answer a few questions about it to prove that he had really read the book. The student accumulating the most points was declared the winner.

It was Dianne Smith’s first year back home in the local schools. She would soon move up to the high school to teach junior English. Later, after the formidable Mrs. Mabel Harris retired, she taught senior English and humanities for many years, touching the lives of generations of students.

We knew she was special from the beginning.

MORE: “Guardians of the Advertiser“