by Ronald Brantley
The Coffee Breaker
We got a call to come downtown and look at a sign job. After taking off some newer signs, lo and behold, there was a sign of Thompson Jewelers of many years ago still painted on the brick wall, high above the entrance.
Ronnie was told to change the wording to “Tallassee Jewelers,” but keep it the same size, spacing, and colors as the old sign. After taking pictures, making measurements and feeding the information into the computer, we were ready to go.
Seeing the old sign brought back a lot of memories. Mr. L.D. O’Steen was our local sign painter, and our town could not have had a better one. Mr. O’Steen was getting a little old, and I helped him on jobs he had. I did a lot of the climbing and rough painting, and he taught me so many shortcuts. I don’t remember who got the job but we both worked on it. We used ladders, which meant climbing up and down.
The other day a few of us gathered as we watched Ronnie paint the new sign on the wall. I told stories of things that happened when I was a boy, and then a man, of how I painted certain signs and struggled with getting them right.
On that same store they wanted signs on the two windows. Mr. Thompson wanted them to be safe from the weather so I painted the sign on butcher paper and taped the paper to the outside of the window. I then got inside the showcase and painted the letters in reverse. The sign turned out okay.
Bailey’s Café was next door and it was always a pleasure to work near Bailey’s. A lunch was three vegetables and a meat, a glass of sweet tea and a dessert for eighty cents. The food was delicious, the price was right and the people were friendly. I wish we had a Bailey’s in Tallassee today.
Mr. Bailey’s wife worked for Dr. Corrington and his office was upstairs over the bank. Next door, there was also a dentist office upstairs, and Mr. Blount had an office there. Mr. Blount had an electric rail chair installed. He could sit in the chair, mash a button and up the stairs it would go. I may be wrong, but I think that chair wound up at the Masonic Lodge next to Mount Vernon Theatre.
As we stood there watching Ronnie, stories of downtown were told by each of us. I told them the story of Hack Cotton’s Café located where Tiger Paw is now. The old building was covered in tin and the tin was painted like bricks. There were some pool tables in the café and a lot of the rough, tough locals hung out there.
My daddy never involved himself with the affairs of town but I hung out around town all the time as a boy. I made all my spending money by running errands, delivering circulars and so on. I found a cheap pocket knife in the gutter by Hack’s Cafe, a rough-looking old man asked what was that I had found and I told him. He said “That’s mine, give it here,” and I was heartbroken, but I gave it to him. I went home all torn up and Daddy asked what was wrong, and I told him the story. Have I ever told you that Daddy was an ex-prize fighter? Well, he was.
Daddy said “Let’s go,” and I went. We walked the two blocks to town and Daddy opened the screen door to Hack’s Café. He turned to me and asked, which one took the knife. I pointed and said “That one, Daddy”.
A thousand excuses came from that man’s mouth and another thousand apologies. The man handed me the knife and thanked me for taking it. The knife was probably worth about fifty cents but I was a proud boy that Daddy without a word had taken up for me.
We told stories that afternoon about almost every building downtown that day and if you look you can still see some of the sign work that L.D. O’Steen or I painted over fifty years ago. I noticed on one building the words “Dixie Auto”. Maybe fifty years later there will be signs that Ronnie or I painted and the young people can talk about them.
Ronald Brantley
