Chapter Four

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.