Wayne Smith

(February 12, 1994)

How old were you when your family sold their place? I was twenty-one. But I wasn't living at home then. I'd already moved to Madison. Where was your family farm located? it was in Monroe Township, about a mile from the Oak Dale schoolhouse. How much land did it cover? My dad only had about thirty-five or forty acres. We didn’t have a big farm. My dad was an auctioneer. We had a house and a barn. A garage and chicken houses and all things like that. That's the last place I lived [in the proving ground]. I was born on Judge Roberts' place on Middle Fork Creek, about a half a mile from the old Wood schoolhouse, where my mother went when she was a young girl, Do you know how much your parents got for their farm? No, I never asked them and they never told me. I just didn't think it was any of my business. How much time did your family have to move? Did they have to moved immediately once the government came in? They were given a certain time. I never heard them complaining anything about having to hurry. They just wanted to do what was the right thing. Were there people in the area who didn't want to sell? oh, yes. There were a few. There was one lady by the name of Kit Colin ["] that was a pretty close neighbor. Our farms joined. They had to just about bodily take her out, I think. Then there was another fellow over on the paper mill road that they had a hard time with. Enoch Stevenson [?], But I don't know how they came out. I don't think any of them wanted to move. But they knew they had to, so they went ahead and did it, because it was supposed to be good for the government, knowing we were going into war. They went along with it that way. But noone really wanted to move. They didn't want to give up their homes. 50

51. Do you know whether the government really explained to them what was going to be done and really kept them informed about what they were doing, or was it, "Do this because we the government told you to do this." I don't think anyone really understood it all, but they were explained to. Since I didn't own property, I can't tell you exactly what they went through and what they were told. I was just a young fellow who had moved away. Did any of your family work at JPG? My mother worked there awhile during the war. I was in service and she worked in the bomb fields somehow. She wrote me letters and told me about it, but I don't remember what she did. Where did you go to school in Monroe Township? I went to school at Oak Dale. The one that's still standing out there now. I started there when I was seven, and I was twelve when I started into high school the next year at North Madison High School. It had to be 1930 when I was a freshman, because I graduated in 1934 from North Madison High School. What was life like, going to school at Oak Dale School? Well, we didn't have days off on account of snow. Of course, I didn't have to walk to school, because when I first started going to school there, John McDonald hauled us in a hack with a team of horses. But then the years came on to where my mother drove the hack, we called it. She had a Model T Ford and she hauled us kids to school and got paid for it from the county someway. She had a route. She hauled us in that Model T. What is a hack? That's something drawn by horses. That's what they called it then. It was a four-wheeled wagon. You could open a door and get in. It was enclosed. The school hack. Where was your family burial ground? It was the Bayless graveyard. That was on the paper mill road on back this way toward Wirt. They've moved that now; it's on the top of the hill over here in Madison. 51

52. Are a lot of your family members buried there? No. They all moved away, most of them. My mother is here, and my daddy. I have an uncle and a cousin here. But that's all. The rest of them are all buried somewhere else, because they all moved out. What happened to Bryantsburg and Belleview? It's still there, part of it. What's outside the proving ground fence. But most of the buildings on the west side of the fence are gone. Of course you can see as you drive by what's still left of Belleview and Bryantsburg. There are still people there. But at one time there were grocery stores, and garages. Right now, I think it's just people's homes along there. This is the time for your personal thoughts and memories of that time period, when you lived out there on the land that JPG now occupies. Well, I grew up there. I was born on Judge Roberts' place over on Middle Fork and then we moved from there before I was five years old over to the place that I described a while ago, about a mile from Oak Dale Schoolhouse. We did a lot of hunting, my brother and I, when we were kids, There were a lot of quail and rabbits and things like that. We didn't have any deer yet then. The man at Old Timbers started the deer. He and the government. I killed the first deer that was ever hit with an automobile in the state of Indiana. That's still on record in Indianapolis, I think. Earlier, you talked about the day you were born. I was born when it was real cold and the snow was deep. Doctor Charlie Denny from Belleview came in a sleigh and a horse. Of course we had an old drum stove at that time they tell me. It was a big house, but with the help of the neighbor lady and my dad and my mother and the doctor, I made it. I was pretty small at that time; my mother had pneumonia and I was born a little bit too soon. I only weighed two and a half pounds when I was six days old with all my clothes on. True story. Doctor Charlie Denny told my dad, "Don't give him a middle name because he'll never live." That's why I don't have a middle name. How many brothers and sisters did you have? I have one brother, Leonard Smith. You went hunting? 52

53. At that time the proving ground was the best quail country around. And we had plenty of rabbits. Of course things have changed a lot since then. All I do now is deer hunt. My buddy and I got five this fall. We were entitled to six, but we only got five. Were there lots of other children as neighbors? There were a few. The Storie boys and we all hunted together when we were kids and still going to school at Oak Dale. How many children went to Oak Dale when you were there? About the time I went there, there were about twenty someplace. I don't know -- I'd have to count them up. I've got some old pictures; we could count them up. Do you have an idea of how many students might be alive today? When we were out there a while back, there were ten or twelve there. There was one couple that went to school there that was a little older than me. Bob Keller and Nellie Jones. They 're married now. They were there that day. Leroy Paugh and George Bayless and Ruthanna Horlow [?]. I don't remember who all else. There are quite a few of them left, if you can find them. Did you enjoy that day? I thought that was real nice. They had all of us out there. I want to go back and go out to the Wood Schoolhouse and show Mr. Moore where that is. When the weather gets better, maybe we can find a day. We went out there one day last year and they were firing; we couldn't get clearance. That is the school where my mother went to school and three of her little brothers. But they closed that school and a fellow by the name of Gerald Ray made a home out of it and lived in it for awhile, until the proving ground moved them out. I guess they tore down all the schools but the Oak Dale. They had an old school at St. Magdalen with the church -- when I was a kid still going to high school, I played for dances in that school. Square dances and that kind of thing. I've played euchre in the basement of the church and won a trophy. I still have it someplace. It's a little beer mug, made in Germany. I won the championship euchre player when I was seven or eight years old -- me and my brother took the prize that night. That place was full of people too. They really played euchre back there. When I was going to high school, in the summertime I'd work 53

54. on the farm over there for Charlie Jones, who raised so many chickens. In fact, the silo to their home is just about half a mile from the Oak Dale schoolhouse; the silo is still standing. Were you told anything about Morgan's Raid? I heard about Morgan's Raid. When he came through Dupont, they broke into the stone house where everyone stored their hams and meat in the wintertime and stole the hams and bacon and all. Then about 1929, I believe it was, they set up the markers like tombstones on his trail. I was there that day: it was hot and dusty, but they set them out; and every one they'd put up they'd have a little speech and tell about Morgan going through there. I don't know whether they're still there or not. But they should not have taken them down. They should still be in the proving ground. That day they had a big crowd go from each one and then someone would make a little talk and then they'd go on and set another one up. It said, "General John Morgan passed through here on the certain date." It was carved in that stone just like a tombstone. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about concerning your family farm or the government coming in and starting JPG? I lived down in Madison when they bought the land, and then I went into service. I was gone about four years. When I came back, everything had been forgotten. The proving ground was still going good with everybody working there. As far as them ever getting their home back there again -- most of the people who lived there have passed away. The government will keep that, I suppose, for something. No one will ever get it back. A lot of them thought that they would, when it was over. I think a lot of people thought they could buy it back. But that will never happen. In a book, The Original Poems by W. L. Denny, a poem was found called, "The Proving Ground" and it talks about the proving ground and the farm area at the beginning of World War II. "The Proving Ground In Monroe Township our homes used to be With our friends and neighbors good and true. But a proving ground came along, you see, They took all these things away from you. 54

55. The many scenes that were blotted out Often our eyes with tears now fill. The fields and woodlands we roamed about And loved to climb her rolling hills. Friends and old schoolmates we held so dear They now have scattered far and wide. Some of them still linger here; Yes, many have crossed the great divide. Our friend and neighbors have moved away Some have journeyed on so far God who rules man's destiny Every day be with them where they are. We gave up our friends and neighbors dear Far away some had to roam We have good friends and neighbors here But it will never be like home. Old folks that lived here many years They knew they soon would be moving on. Sick at heart, they shed many tears They knew the dear old home was gone. Recalling past years as I walked about And familiar scenes that will be no more So quickly they all were blotted out Fate intervened and just closed the door, There were many heartaches, many tears. From their place of birth they had to go, Give up their homes they had loved for years What may happen here -- oh, we never know. Sad and lonely then, we journey on. Sometimes our eyes with tears are dim. Loved ones, neighbors, and old homes are gone. We still have God; keep your faith in Him. The poem was published in the book in 1955. I played the fiddle. Of course I could play the banjo and the guitar a little too, but the fiddle was the main one I played. My brother played the banjo. We had several different people who played with us -- Louis Demaree who lived at Bryantsburg; of course he's passed away now. He was older than we were. Had a boy by the name of Bill Jenkins. And Raymond Rose. Of course most of them are all gone on. 55

56. Did you teach yourself how to play? We just picked it up. [Scrambled] Young played a little and the first fiddle we got didn't have any bow, so he made us one out of a corn stalk, and we put rosin on it, and kind of learned to play. After we could tell we were going to be able to, Daddy got us a fiddle, a three-quarter size. We outgrew that, and then I traded around and got two or three fiddles. I've got one now that I traded from a guy from Oklahoma, lived out there on Big Creek. I still have it. But I don't play it anymore. I got it out to tune it up with Betty and the organ, and I broke the string -- it was so old -- and I've never gotten around to buying one and putting it on. You said you played at square dances? They round danced too, but we played for those old square dances. My dad used to call for a lot of the dances out at Canaan. Of course I've played different places -- Vevay, the Chicken Inn down on 62, up at Carrollton, and that old church there in the proving ground. I played at that old school they had there when I was still probably going to grade school. We had different ones that would play with us different times. We had different names. One of them was "Big Creek Buckle Busters." "The Smith Brothers ]Band." I don't know what all. We had so many different names at that time. I've forgotten. We had a piano player a time or two. Mildred Tower played a time or two with us. Whether we were playing for a dance or not, Mildred was an extra-special player. She just picked it up. She still plays. She lives in the northern part of the state now. I think she told me the last time I talked to her that she had a little blue grass band. Louis Demaree played the piano, and the saxophone. Just different ones. I'd have to think about it to remember who all they were. Were the dances the kind that brought the whole community together? Oh, yes. At the hall there in Canaan and at all these places it was a regular big dance on Saturday night. Not every Saturday night, but it was a Saturday night dance as a rule. The crowd came. Mostly older people at the big dances. Of course when I first started out, when I was a kid, they'd be house dances. They'd roll the rug back and of course they'd have one room for the little kids. They'd put them in there in the bed. 56

57. A house dance would be at a person's home? Yes, right at their home. They'd just throw the rug back and throw a little paraffin on the floor, or corn meal or whatever, to make it slick, and away they'd go. Circle four and a do-se-do. I have read that sometimes they had dances as fundraisers or school fairs. Did they have those when you were young? Not as many. I guess they did, in different parts of the country, and sometimes there. But it wasn't near as much as they do now, because there are so many more bands playing now, and more places to do it, and more people needing help. I also had read somewhere that many times the schools or the churches were considered the polling place or the place for voting. The first time I voted, when I was twenty-one, was in the Big Creek School, out on Big Creek. It was a school just like the one at Oak Dale, almost. It's torn down now. They put your vote right in the top of a box and push her down through there. Were there any times that you got into trouble as a boy? No. I never did. Me or my brother. None of us ever got in any kind of trouble. We were too busy playing for dances and working, and trying to get ahead. We didn't have time to play around and get in trouble. When I'd come down the stairs with my suit on headed to play a dance someplace, my mother would say, "You just be as good as you look, and I won't have to worry about you." That's what she'd say, almost every time. So we tried to do right, so we wouldn't cause my mother and dad any trouble. They had some big pictures out there three or four years ago. They had everybody's name down but that one guy; they didn't know who it was. I looked at it, and I went and told Mike; so they put his name under it now. The picture in his office. Just a little bitty picture -- you know those hall pictures? I knew right away who it was. John Cordery. He and I were working at Charlestown -- E. I. Dupont. An opening came up here in the proving ground -- that's when they first started. He said, "I'm going up there to go to work. Eighty dollars a week." We were making forty-five there. I said, "I'm too near going into the service." I think he had other plans in his head: he'd get in there and he wouldn't have to go. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure. Anyway, that's what happened. He went out there as a guard, and transferred on up and made a boss. Over heavy equipment 57