Growing Up in the Colonial
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Growing Up in the Colonial
The Colonial Hotel was a landmark for fifty years in the southeastern Tennessee town, Copperhill. The Colonial, our family's business, housed employees of the Tennessee Copper Company, the major industry in the region. In 1940 I w
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Growing Up in the Colonial - Edwin H Light
Growing up in the Colonial
A memoir by
Edwin Light
Copyrighted Material
Growing Up in the Colonial
Copyright © 2021. Edwin Light. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by
any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy,
recording, or otherwise—without prior written
permission from the publisher, except for the
inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
For information about this title or to order other books
and/or electronic media, contact the publisher:
Edwin Light
email: ehlight40@gmail.com
ISBN
979-8-9853135-0-5 (Paperback)
979-8-9853135-1-2 (eBook)
Printed in the United States of America
Cover and Interior design: Van-Garde Imagery, Inc.
Cover Photo: l-r, Steve Kovsky, neighbor, Jake, behind screen door,
one of three colored employees, and the Hood family,
George T. Hood, Proprietor, circa 1916.
My Mother and my Grandmother guided me through my childhood and beyond, encouraging and inspiring me to do my best.
I dedicate this book to them.
In the 1940s and 50s I grew up in our family’s hotel. The changing cast of characters informed and fascinated me every day, like the gluttonous salesman, the boarder with shrapnel, the deputy sheriff and dynamite, and Professor Kerns at the piano. And of course, our family, including Mother and her trumpet, Uncle Howard and the latest gossip, mischievous me, and Aunt Missouri’s left eye. All this unfolded in my grandpa’s creation, the Colonial Hotel.
After two terms as the Polk County Sheriff and an unsuccessful run for a third term, my Grandpa George Tate Hood contemplated his next opportunity, and he didn’t have to look beyond Polk County in southeastern Tennessee. He was already acquainted with the burgeoning economy in Copperhill, where the Tennessee Copper Company was expanding its operations, six Louisville & Nashville passenger trains were steaming through town every day and commercial buildings were filling up what had been farmers’ fields.
My enterprising Grandpa recognized the need for lodging and meals for TCC’s employees. He wisely chose a site at the main entrance to Copperhill across from the L&N railroad station, a location that was within walking distance of the copper smelters. In 1913 construction of the Colonial began, and he moved his wife Lillie and their seven children to Copperhill, my mother Frankie among them.
The Polk County Republican reported in February 1914, He [George T. Hood] has new furnishings throughout, hot and cold water, bathrooms, fresh spring water, steam heat, etc, and we bespeak for him a liberal patronage.
The Colonial could accommodate up to 32 guests in 16 rooms, and more if the Hood children doubled up.
Grandpa had passed on before I came along, but my Grandma happily shared with me many stories about her George. In the parlor, with her silver-gray hair in wavelets, she would lean back on the daybed covered in pink-flowered fabric and enchant me with another tale. That particular day she was expecting company, so she had rouged her cheeks and lips, powdered her face and put on her favorite flowered dress, covering the corset she padded to compensate for sagging breasts. I could smell the Evening in Paris she always dabbed behind her ears.
Grandma especially liked to recall the courtship.
He did what?
I asked.
He tossed love notes from the train.
But…
As a kid I couldn’t imagine…
Your Grandpa worked in those days for the Louisville & Nashville railroad. The train didn’t stop in Whitestone (Georgia), so he tossed notes off the train. That’s how he courted me.
Grandma, are you pullin my leg?
It’s true. That’s the way we stayed in touch. We had no telephone. George wrote notes and put ’em in a magazine and threw ’em to me.
She paused... How I loved readin’ ev’ry word! They’d end somethin’ like, ‘I’m thinking about you, Lillie,’ signed, ‘George.’ I couldn’t wait to read the next one!
Another sigh.
I wanna see one.
Good Lord, they’re long gone.
I frowned. Well, what was Grandpa like, what was he really like?
I have a photo of my grandpa when he was the sheriff surrounded by Polk County officials. His stern demeanor in that picture spooked me as a kid. Mother did point out that her papa had a softer side, For a Kiwanis parade he dressed as a woman; and a Kiwanian from Nashville complimented his performance.
My Grandpa was in drag? Was my Grandpa something other than a gun-toting macho man? The answer is no; however, he did wear a girdle.
Next Grandma told me the most exciting story of all. It happened during the construction of the Colonial. With eyes sparkling she recalled,
"George was standin’ on the new front porch of the hotel, rowdy as could