The Grange

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My parents were members of the Grange - a farmer's organization established during the reconstruction years by seven Freemasons. The story goes that a Yankee farmer was asked by President Lincoln to come to the south and see what could be done to ease the plight of farmers. The man's name was Oliver Kelley and he did as he was asked by the president. Of course when he presented himself to the rural communities he was shunned and ridiculed as a carpetbagger. He could find no family to take him in nor anyone to give or even sell him food. One night, thoroughly depressed, he knocked at the gate of a farm and when the farmer sent him on his way, he used one of the secrets of Freemasonry to see if the farmer would recognize that. He was immediately brought into the farm house, fed and bedded down for the night. The next day he pled his case with the farmer and they subsequently visited other farmers and decided that the nation needed a fraternal organization of farmers and hence the Grange was formed.

We belonged to Woodlawn Grange and there must have been at least a hundred members. Every month Mamma would make a covered dish and we would go to the Grange meeting to share our food with others. It was the best darn eating that anyone could have. We learned quickly that Mrs. Jones made the best pound cakes - but the worst fried chicken. Mrs. Sperry could make a mean macaroni pie and Mrs Foster made a spice cake that was out of this world wonderful. After the meeting the grownups would "open the Grange" using a secret ritual and the kids would play in another part of the building. Fun days those were.

We also went to the State Grange meetings in August every year. There was always lots of politicking, oration, arguments and debates. We also had contests - knitting, canning, photography, art, etc. in which everyone vied for Blue, Red and White ribbons signifying First, Second or Third place in the contest. The winners also got a check. Sometimes there was a pink ribbon for honorable mention.

The Grange was like a large snowball rolling downhill in those days. Years later it was like a snowball headed for hell. All the old folks passed away and the youngsters went to work in town and by 1969 the organization was mostly gone. It stayed around for a few more years but in South Carolina at least it is now just a memory.