Some Memories of Old Forsyth County

Originally written on 5/8/2017.

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I get impatient when the traffic around Cumming turns a 5 minute trip into a 15 minute trip. I remember how it used to be in Forsyth County, as many of you do, before this became the land of a thousand traffic lights. As an eighth-generation Forsyth County resident, no doubt my nostalgia causes me to overlook many of the benefits of progress. I can’t help but miss some of the good ole days here.

I remember when there was more open land

One of the things I miss is the landscape--the pastures, the fields, and the woods we used to play in, work in, and just enjoy gazing upon. When Lisa married me and moved here 20 years ago, she was impressed that so many people mowed their lawns with tractors. We used a red Farmall tractor with a belly mower (which could also be used for other tasks like hauling firewood and plowing gardens). Times have changed. Today I live in a subdivision and mow my lawn with a small, light-weight, battery-powered push mower.

Photo 1. Dad hauling firewood with the tractor and trailer

Before these acres of woods and pastures were transfomed into strip malls, subdivisions, and schools, we had access to them for hunting, camping, and exloring. My Dad, my uncle, and my neighbor made dune buggies out of Volkswagon Beetles. On Sunday afternoons we would have fun riding them all over the woods, creeks, and the right-of-ways of the power-lines and pipe-lines.

Photo 2. Dune buggy day and my sister in our yellow dune buggy

I remember going to my grandmother’s house on highway 20, where the Sun Trust Bank is now. My Uncle and cousin lived where the Ingles is located. My Dad and Elon grew yellow-meated watermelons on this property and on the spot where the CVS was built. Some of you will remember them selling them on the side of the road.

Photo 3. My Dad (Gerald Echols), my grandmother (Gordie Newton), and step-grandfather (Elon Newton) with watermelons to sell on the roadside where SunTrust bank is now on Highway 20

I remember when there were more shenanigans (and the innovative consequences that followed)

The first school I attended was Cumming Elementary School on Elm Street. The cafeteria was built on a lower level than the class rooms, and one of the punishments used on the misbehaving children was making them duck walk up and down the ramp from the hall to the cafeteria. Part of the corrective experience was the principal overseeing us, standing at the top of the ramp with paddle in hand.

One of my favorite teachers there was my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Helen Fowler of the Fowler Park family, who really helped cultivate my love for math and for silence in the rest room. One day she heard us boys in the rest room making too much noise, so on the way out each of us, whether guilty or innocent, got a lick on the rear end with a paddle. If we were innocent that day, we just mentally accounted the chastening to a transgression in which we didn’t get caught.  

In the 7th grade, I attended the old Upper Elementary School where the Cumming Playhouse is now. This is the same building where my parents and grandparents went to school, and my great grandfather graduated from in 1932. In 1975, the last year school was held at that facility, it was a little like the Wild West. The day would start with us being dropped off by the buses to sit and wait in the old gym until classes started. There was a teacher on guard in the front to make sure kids didn’t leave, but we figured out a way to jump out of a high window in the back and walk all the way around the block to avoid being spotted. We could then go to town, particularly Earl Gilstrap’s store in front of Heard’s Florist, and stock up on our water guns and candy for the day--and then make it back by the start of class time. Boy, we had some great water fights using squirt guns, water balloons, and any other thing you could think of to get someone wet.

I heard a story of someone lighting an M-80 explosive in one of the urinals, blowing it up. I remember someone rolled a smoke bomb down the aisle of the bus on the way home one afternoon. With heads hanging out windows to breathe, the bus driver turned the bus around and went back to the school that day. To my knowledge, the culprit was never discovered.

Photo 4. Cumming Upper Elementary School in 1975

In high school (when there was still only one in the county), the shenanigans continued. One day toward the end of the school year, the teacher left us unattended by an adult. A student whose name was Charles stood to throw a water balloon at somebody in the back and it burst in his hand as he threw it, getting lots of us wet. Unfortunately for him, I had two fully loaded Joy bottles ready for this “make my day” moment. I handed my friend Darrell one, and he and I proceeded to drown Charles. When the teacher returned, Charles sat there soaking wet in a puddle of water. The teacher pressed Charles to give up the names of the parties involved, but he never squealed. When the teacher announced that nobody would take the final exam without the guilty individuals being identified, Darrell and I had to confess. All three of us got two hard licks with a paddle, with our classmates watching.  

I also had some interesting experiences in metal fab. I met an Elvis impersonator who performed at his family's restaurant. There was the ritual of physically laying hold on every newcomer and casting him into the big sink. I also remember watching arm-punching contests, where two guys would take time about punching each other as hard as they could until someone gave up. One of the strangest things I witnessed back in 1976 in metal fab was a competition to see who could hold a burning cigarette the longest to a dollar bill wrapped tightly on the inside of their wrist. Both winner and loser would be left with a nice burn mark on their arms.

One day Mr. Stanford had to leave for a while, and for some reason a war broke out with soft drink cans, bolts, and welding rods flying through the air. I had taken cover behind a lathe and never will forget seeing a guy running with a welding rod stuck in the back of his neck. After the ruckus, we evaluated the welding rod and saw that someone had sharpened it for the occasion.

Photo 5. High School Class of 1979 (I'm in the front in a red shirt, fifth from the left)

Just one more story about Forsyth County--that involves a music star. At breakfast a few months ago at an old-timer hangout, I enquired about let’s say “a misunderstanding” with Kris Kristofferson at the Lanierland Country Music Park many years ago. It just so happened, someone at the table was one of the two gentlemen from Forsyth County who was personally involved. He said, “I can tell you exactly what happened”… and I got the scoop. Basically, Kris said some very negative things about our county on stage that led some citizens to implement some innovative consequences on him. But not to worry, it was a long time ago and Kris is OK. I heard that he apologized some years later when he was in concert nearby.

Photo 6. From Rafael Picklesimer's youtube video, Lanierland Music Park 1970s, this is Kris just before the incident.

There are many other stories I could tell, but suffice it to say, Forsyth County was a nice and interesting place to live back in the 70s. I still think it is nice, but maybe not as interesting. (I do admit I am glad we don’t have to drive to Doraville for the nearest McDonalds. Shoot, I don’t even have to drive to the one at Buford Crossing [at highway 20 and 9] where John Green used to live. But I digress.) It must be a comparatively nice place to live now, gauging by the population growth. However, when I'm stuck in traffic or dodging the pot holes in the roads due to all the pounding, please be understanding if I reminisce a little about the good ole days.