Consider that before long you will be nobody and nowhere, nor will any of the things exist that you now see, nor any of those who are now living. For all things are formed by nature to change and be turned and to perish in order that other things in continuous succession may exist.
Marcus Aurelius
The
small town where we lived was named Badin, and it was nestled on the edge of
the Uwharrie Mountains, beside a lake named after the town, Badin Lake. The
Uwharries are one of North America's oldest mountain ranges, thought to have
formed around 500 Million years ago. With peaks at one time soaring to heights
of 20,000 ft, higher than the present Rockies, they have been worn down by eons
of wind and water to their present stature of large rolling hills, with the highest
being around 1,100 ft above sea level. Before the arrival of Europeans to the
area, Native Americans made their home by the river that runs through the
mountains, now known as the Yadkin. The rock of the area was of such a quality
that it could be formed into exceptionally durable knives, tools, and
arrowheads. It was also plentiful, being found in large boulders strewn through
the forests, fields, and river. On the outskirts of where the town now lies,
the Native Americans had setup the largest weapons factory in the southeast
overlooking the Yadkin River, and evidence suggested it flourished for over
10,000 years before they vanished to disease, war, and relocation sometime in
the 16th century. The fields and forests still turn up arrowheads, tools, and
occasional axe heads from the native operations.
Badin Lake had been built by the
French in 1913 to serve as a source for hydro-electric power for their planned
Aluminum plant in Badin. A soaring dam, the largest dam in the nation until the
completion of the Hoover Dam in 1934, was built at a section of the river
called the Narrows, where the normally wide Yadkin river cut a narrow channel
in the valley between two ancient, worn mountains. Prior to the construction of
the dam, the Yadkin river flowed freely all the way to the ocean. Badin had
always been a company town, most of the residents either worked, or were
connected to the Aluminum plant in some fashion. With their country under attack
by Germany during WWI, the French left in 1914, selling all property and
operations to a local power company who completed construction of the dam.
In 1918, the Spanish Flu hit the community
hard, especially the young. Dozens of lives were lost in the small community, and
a special cemetery was constructed outside of town for many remains. I'd often
ride my bike by the cemetery, by then overgrown and on the edge of a forest. I thought
about the kids who died from the flu, and what the community would be like if
they had lived. It seemed so unfair for them to be struck down before they
could live life. I wondered what life was like in the town in the aftermath of
such a devastating event. How had people kept on going after such tragedy and
loss? Over the years, I came to see that these people were hearty, and they
took what life gave them and kept on going. Resilience in the face of hard
times had been a theme of this place since the earliest days, testing and
refining the character of its people.
The Aluminum Company of America
(Alcoa) later purchased the entire operation. Alcoa became a good steward of
the town, providing well-paying, middle class jobs that served as the backbone
of the local economy. Aluminum was the wonder metal that spawned a new
generation of vehicles and aircraft in the early twentieth century, replacing
the heavier steel that had traditionally been used. Lightweight, durable, and
relatively inexpensive, the demand for Aluminum was steady. A steady stream of
raw materials needed to produce Aluminum was delivered by a railway that came
right into the plant. The production of Aluminum was a non-stop process, with
shift changes announced on a public-address system that could be heard
throughout the entire town. The process of creating Aluminum required a
tremendous amount of electricity to turn the raw bauxite into finished
aluminum. The dam at the Narrows proved
so effective at generating electricity, that more dams were built along the
Yadkin River. Eventually, Alcoa would own four (High Rock, Tuckertown, Badin,
and Falls) Hydroelectric power became a profitable secondary business, with
excess power being sold to Duke Power Company. As demand for electricity
increased due to use of air conditioning, appliances, and manufacturing, this
secondary line of business was spun off into its own company named Yadkin,
Incorporated.
With broad streets lined with pin
oaks, a state of the art water treatment plant, a small downtown area, and a
school, by the 1950s Badin was home to a few thousand residents. It had once been
a booming town, boasting of the largest theater between Richmond and Atlanta.
It had a grocery store, pharmacy, school, library, doctor's office, and a
beautiful golf course complete with a sprawling club house on a hillside
overlooking the tidy white apartments constructed by the French. By the time I
was a boy, life in the town had slowed. The theater had been torn down in 1959
and replaced with an unpretentious US Post office. Many of the residents were
nearing retirement, enjoying the peace and quiet of the restful village. As with most small towns in the US at that
time, the details of your life and lineage were well known. Everyone in the
area knew you, your parents, and many knew your ancestors going several
generations back. Most likely you were related to many in the community by
either blood or marriage if you went back far enough.
In
a place of prominence across from the Post Office, on a grassy lawn adorned
with dogwood trees was a granite monument. Beneath the outstretched wings of an
eagle carrying a banner labelled “Honor Roll” was a brass plaque with the
words:
In honor of the
Men and Women
of Badin,
North Carolina. who
served their country
in World War II and
in memory of those
who gave their lives.
G.F. Biles J.P. James
J.B. Davis, Jr. C.M. McDaniels
J.D. Huneycutt R.L. Moir, Jr.
C.J. Hunter R.T. Robinette
T.R.Venters
I
felt I was growing up in a time that was a footnote to history. Noble Indian
warriors, inspiration for the characters of Uncas and Chingachgook, had
disappeared from centuries of war, disease, and famine, leaving only arrowheads
and fragments of stone tools. Daniel Boone no longer explored the banks of the
nearby Yadkin River, and the French had retreated to Europe. The wild, rugged
landscape where giants of men had once roamed was now tame, the adventures and
opportunities once afforded were long gone. I had arrived too late, long after
their footprints were lost to the ages. I saw evidence of onetime greatness in
the scaling dams, massive aluminum plant, and monument to soldiers who won
WWII. I read and heard stories of the War of Independence, and the tragic valor
of the Civil War, but those times had long passed. It seemed the energy, initiative, and
dynamism of our forefathers had passed with it. Our ancestors had been
ambitious, industrious, bold, and courageous. I imagined it was like living in
the British Isles a hundred years or so after the Roman Empire collapsed. In
the shadow of Hadrian’s wall, they could see remnants of a great people, but
those remnants were only a dim reflection of the greatness of the heroes who
had once thrived.
