By C.W. Clontz
Years ago when but a boy in old Goose Creek, prohibition had its struggles which came very nearly mking of it a prodigal son. For with so much fine fruit and corn and no market much for either, coupled with that long-established custom of making and having everything one’s heart could wish and brain devise from a home-made scything cradle and wheel barrow to rough roads and a mid-winter week’s drun, there was slow progress.
To hear the older people tell of how those white-covered wagons from the mountains and elsewhere were so warmly and cordially received; and how their arrival was met with watering lips; how the stopover or dump-off determined the location of the community centre, all makes one cease wondering why good roads talk wasn’t so want to be prevalent in those days.
Although the struggle is still on, there is not so much bold-front stuff offered to every youth of the township. Still it is hardly possible for one to perish from thirst in our great township. The vital point is: Educate a more “wet-proof” citizenship.
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A gander had mysteriously wandered or flown from the homeland flock in old Goose Creek and become missing. Later it was learned that he was sojourning in the haunts of southeastern Cabarrus county. This particular fowl had not given himself up entirely to fishing and commonplace, and though he is not as cunning as Old Sol, he is not a mere happy-go-lucky feathered fellow.
A trade had been in contemplation for a day or two. Now the bargaining was brought to a set of mutual banters.
“I’ll let you have the sow and pigs to fatten on halves, you furnishing the feed,” offered the native of Cabarrus.”
“It’s a trade,” said the gander.
Thereupon a chase was put on to catch the swine family for transfer to the new guardian’s premises, which of course, was co?? in a few minutes. They were discussing the merits of different methods of feeding and breeding when the value of the captives came up for consideration.
The owner had offered him at $20 and wouldn’t take a cent less.
“What will you take for your half and me pay it now?” quizzed the Gander.
“$10,” was the quick reply, at which the Gander, who is Mr. C.M. Polk, now of Concord, jumped, forking out the eagle with apparently an undiscernible air, to the former owner, Mr. Martin Furr, the Cabarrus man.
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Mr. E.E. Braswell, an enterprising farmer of South Goose Creek, believes in living and learning, though he is not young any more. Mr. Braswell was heard to say recently that there were two things he was going to teach himself to do—Milk a cow and drive a car.
From page 7 of The Monroe Journal, May 29, 1923
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