The Missing Landmark

Seems the biggest news lately in our little corner of the world has been the implosion of the nuclear cooling tower once located at what came to be known as the Hartsville Nuclear site. Although the tower was located across the county line in Smith County, it was given the name “Hartsville” as Hartsville was the nearest incorporated township. For almost 50 years the tower stood tall and foreboding - a reminder of a failed attempt to bring nuclear power to our part of the world in the decade of the 1970’s.

Most everyone in these parts has a story to tell about “the nuclear plant.” If you didn’t work there, you knew someone who did. It was a boom-or-bust time. Fast food establishments flourished. Busloads of craftsmen came from far away. High wages and high waste were the order of the day.

And then one day the work came to a halt. Left behind were empty apartments and abandoned trailer parks. One cooling tower was finished, another aborted leaving only its base behind. Erie memories of the ghost towns of the old West came to the minds of some. Economic aftershocks were felt for years. But the cooling tower remained. Like a tall, strong, sleepy giant standing guard over our hills, fields and beloved Cumberland River, the tower became an oh-so familiar part of the landscape. And now, it’s gone.

I was there to see it fall. In eight seconds, it disappeared like the wicked witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz – as though the very ground that once gave it footing swallowed it up.

Our three grandsons wanted to see it. I was brave and offered to let them spend the night before. A granddaughter asked to go along (with a friend) in the early morning hours. The boys arrived at my house around 8:30PM. To say they were “pumped” is an understatement. One’s father threatened his life if all three were not in bed by 9:00. His parting words were: “I’m going to call back when I get home (five minutes away) and you had better be in bed!” That put the fear of God in them. They were in bed before 9:00 – a small miracle. The next morning one asked, “Did he call back last night?” I have yet to answer his question.

They were up by 4:30 AM - raring to go. We picked up granddaughter, Jane, and her aunt, Kloe (of similar age) and were parked in a lot on the Power Com/Core Civic side of the TVA site by 5:30AM. As we sat in the dark, I remembered I had been placed on a list of public officials who would be given access to the TVA property at the main entrance.

“Let’s go!” I said.

I wheeled out of the dark parking lot and headed for Highway 25. When I entered the TVA property I could see three checkpoints. I made it through the first two without incident. When I arrived at checkpoint three, a young lady holding a clipboard smiled and asked, “who are you?”

“I’m Mayor McCall. I think I’m on your list,” I said.

“Jack McCall? she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” I answered.

As she highlighted my name, she looked to the passenger seat and asked, “who is she?”

“Oh, she’s, my granddaughter!” I said, proudly.

“You can’t go in here!” she said rather sharply.

“No problem!” I said with a smile. “I’ll turn this buggy around!” Daylight was coming fast!

Back to Highway 25 we went. And back to the original parking area. This time I took a gravel road to a higher vantage point. It turned out to be fortuitous.

The boys counted down the last minute, and the tower disappeared from sight. Gone!   

Gone like so many things which you see slip into the past if you are around long enough.

But I have a feeling one of these mornings when I am driving through Hiwassee or cruising down Highway 25 – one of those days when the morning mist is hovering softly over the surrounding hills – I will look and see the ghost of that old tower standing tall and majestically like the tired old friend it became to be.

Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall 

Tobacco Leaves

I’ve seen some beautiful sights in my time. Many of them take me back to my formative years -- a set of mama cows with their calves out in lush spring pasture, rows of square bales of hay lined up across a hay field, dark green corn fields in full tassel and a patch of tobacco, yellow as a pumpkin, ready to be cut. And I have always considered a tobacco leaf a beautiful thing. Maybe it is because tobacco played such a major role in the early years of my life. Tobacco put food on our table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. Tobacco made it possible for my brothers, my sister, and me to attend college.

I learned how to work hard in a tobacco patch. And I learned about perseverance there -- you finished the job even if you were exhausted, and you came back the next day whether you felt like it or not. Raising a crop of tobacco is where my father taught me to take pride in the quality of my work. To me, a tobacco leaf is a beautiful thing.

My brothers and I made our first serious money the year our father offered us the “leaf’ money. For all the leaves we picked up in the tobacco patch and the tobacco barn, we got the money. We became tobacco leaf vacuum cleaners. Not a leaf escaped us. We were leaf hawks. We got them all. That year we bought every rubber band the Ben Franklin 5&10 Cent Store had for sale. All the brown leaves that were half-way cured were banded in hands and hung on tobacco sticks. We carefully slipped the rubber bands down the leaves to give the stems room to finish curing. If the leaves had fat stems, we threaded them on electric fence wire. It was a simple process.

We attached the wire to the end of a tobacco stick, then ran the wire down the top of the stick. Then we threaded them, alternating the leaves on each side of the stick to keep them separated. When they were fully cured, it was not easy to get them off the wire. But it was worth the effort.

My father did not believe in leaving a leaf in the tobacco patch. I must give him credit. He had an eye for good tobacco. He also had an ear for breaking leaves. If we were cutting tobacco and he heard a leaf break, it would stop him in histracks. If the transgressor was one of my brothers or me, a look was all it took. If the one breaking the leaf was a high school boy working with us for the first time, one of two things happened. My father would either instruct one of his sons to show the young man how it was done correctly, or my father would stop and patiently show how it was done. Breaking leaves was simply unacceptable.

Many a time while loading a load of tobacco, my father would point to the ground and say, “Pitch that leaf on the wagon.” But not the years when my brothers and I were the leaf hawks! If a broken leaf was clinging precariously to a tobacco stalk, we took it -- no need to take the chance of it not making it to the barn.

When my father looked back on a tobacco patch after the last stick had been hauled to the barn, he liked to see two things – no tobacco leaves left on the ground, and no weeds standing in the field. His tobacco patches looked like they had been swept clean. It’s just the way he went about his business.

In his declining years, my father would, while riding down the road, point to a recently harvested field of tobacco and observe, “Look a-yonder. Why, you can’t see the ground for the tobacco leaves!” Then he would shake his head in disbelief.

He would have had a hard time accepting the way tobacco was grown in the years after he retired when tobacco harvesters were paid by the stick and speed took precedence over quality of workmanship. Sadly, raising tobacco in this part of the world has almost become a thing of the past.  

I still think a tobacco leaf is a beautiful thing. When I see one, I see dollar signs. And it is hard for me to imagine, as it would have been for my father, leaving dollars lying on the ground.

Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall

Remembering the Tobacco Bowl

(From Chester Davis general chairman of the Tobacco Bowl, 1961.)

“Acclaimed by sportswriters and football fans as one of the most astounding successes in high school post season games, the Tobacco Bowl has developed into one of the greatest attractions in the state. All games have been given the widest publicity through the press, radio, and television.

The largest network of radio stations ever to carry a post season high school grid classic east of the Rocky Mountains, is carrying today’s game with Jud Collins and Larry Munson at the microphone.”

And so, it was. From 1954 until 1985 when a state playoff system came to be, the Hartsville Tobacco Bowl reigned supreme. Rivaled only in post season play by Nashville’s Clinic Bowl, the Tobacco Bowl was a classic. Each year it featured two of Middle Tennessee’s powerhouse football programs. Tennessee’s governor arrived by helicopter. U.S. Senators came. Elected official from far and wide made it a point to be there.

And each year the Tennessee A & I band provided the half-time entertainment. I am told it was a sight to see as the band marched down the hill from Historic Ward School. And the half-time show was second to none. When I attended the Tobacco Bowl in 1970 the band was delivered by motor coach and disembarked just outside the stadium. To see the band members coming off the buses as they marched in ¼ time was a scene I shall never forget. 

This year, as a special tribute to Tobacco Bowls of the past, the Grammy Award winning Tennessee State University Aristocrats of Bands will once again return to the Creek Bank as the Trousdale County Yellow Jackets take on the Smith County Owls on Friday night, September 26.

Legendary high school coaches, Jim B. Satterfield and Turney Ford showcased their squads in seven Tobacco Bowls - Trousdale County in 1965, 1970, and 1984; and Smith County in 1957, 1958, 1959, 1960, respectively.

The attached graphic lists the teams which played in the Tobacco Bowl over the years and how they fared.

If you were a player, cheerleader, or if you were in the crowd at a Tobacco Bowl, you are cordially invited to take a walk down memory lane and join us for an evening of football nostalgia as the Tennessee State University Aristocrat of Bands takes the field at halftime on Friday, September 26.

Come see us in Hartsville!

For ticket information, visit: https://gofan.co/event/3957792

 Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall  

Built to Last

“Built to Last” was a popular slogan used by the Ford Motor Corporation beginning in 1998. You have to admit it is catchy. “Built to Last” has a nice ring to it.

But alas, it seems fewer and fewer products are built to last these days. My observation has been that more and more products are built to “get by” or temporarily fill the need.

I was visiting with a farmer friend a few mornings back when he observed that steel fence posts (t-posts) just aren’t what they used to be.

“Give ‘em 5-10 years, “he said, “and they will rust and break off in the ground. They just don’t last like they used to.”

He was correct. Those steel posts made 50 years ago are still as solid as a rock. I pulled one out of the ground a while back. It had a good “feel” to it – solid and strong. I relocated it in another fence. It will be good for another fifty years.

Many years ago, I discovered a shoe store in east Nashville called “Abe’s Shoe Repair.” It was run by a little Jewish man named….well, “Abe.” Mr. Abe had the inside track on a plentiful supply of high-quality, pre-worn shoes. I don’t know where they originated. Didn’t matter to me.

He first introduced me to Johnston-Murphy’s top line of shoes called Crown Aristocrats. Back then, those shoes retailed for $200-$300. They still do today. Of course, at Abe’s I only paid pennies on the dollar. I have owned many pairs of Crown Aristocrats. Constructed with real “shoe leather,” they are built to last. Over the years, I have re-soled some pairs three or four times. Quality will always bear out the test of time.

Today, shoes are made to meet the eye test, but not the time test. I am amazed at how cheaply shoes are put together. Dress shoes are made of such cheap leather they won’t even “hold” a shine. And sports (track) shoes are made of such flimsy material they never last long. But it seems today’s young consumers aren’t concerned. When a pair wears out, just buy another pair.

Early in my career when I worked for the Tennessee Department of Agriculture, one of my responsibilities was grading feeder pigs for various livestock markets. At the Pulaski Feeder Pig Market, the man responsible for “sizing” (sorting) pigs was called “Old Folks.” Old Folks was a tall, black man who probably looked 20 years younger than his actual age. He was strong and agile, and moved like a cat. His conversation style was always pleasant and animated. Sometimes he waxed philosophical.

“They just don’t make stuff like they used to,” he said one morning. “Why, when I was a young man you could buy a pair “overhauls” (overalls) for a ‘dolla.’ And the denim in ‘em was so heavy you could stand ‘em in the corner! And denim shirts? They jest cost fifty cents, and they would wear like iron!” You might say they were built to last.

I could identify with Old Folks. When I was a boy, the start of a new school year meant at least one new pair of blue jeans from Sear, Roebuck, and Co. for my brothers and me. The denim in those new jeans was so stiff it would rub your hide raw behind your knees on the first day of school. Made you reach for the Cloverine Salve when you got home.

Of course, we all know the story on jeans today. Many pairs are built to look like they have been worn. Certainly not built to last. I think they are called “retros.”

Whether it’s metal fence posts, shoes, jeans, socks, underwear, or a whole host of other products, you have to be a discriminating buyer these days to make sure “you get what you pay for.”

Here’s a great quote from John Ruskin (1819-1900):

“There is hardly anything in the world that some man cannot make a little worse and sell a little cheaper, and the people who consider price only are this man's lawful prey.”

Can quality products still be had in today’s super competitive, sales-driven environment? Of course, but you better be prepared to set your satchel down.

Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall    

This Too Shall Pass

Occasionally, I am asked to reprint a column. In my eighteen years of writing this has been one of  my most requested.

I’ve often heard those words quoted: “This too shall pass.” Sometimes for the purpose of comfort when someone was facing a difficult situation or trial. I’ve also heard the same words offered as a warning. Every day the world rolls over on top of someone who was sitting on top of it the day before.

A while back I heard a famous business motivational speaker, with tongue in cheek, give his prediction for how things will be for the next ten years. He said “things for the next ten years will be about like they’ve always been.” His comments brought a mixed reaction from his large audience – until he explained. “For thousands of years,” he offered, “the sun has come up every morning and gone down every afternoon. The seasons have followed each other – winter, spring, summer, and fall – in the same order as far back as we can know. Good times have followed lean times, highs have followed lows, and recessions have followed expansions. Life is filled with ups and downs. It’s not going to change.”

What he said was food for thought. If you think about it, he was right. It’s the ebb and flow of life.

I have, for the most part, enjoyed a good life.  But I must admit I’ve had my “highs” and I’ve had my “lows.”  Some of the lows almost got me. A few of the lows were mighty low. Have you ever wondered if you would be able to take your next breath? Yeah, that low.

In The Pilgrims Progress, John Bunyan spoke of the “castle of despair.”  I have spent some time imprisoned in the dungeons of the “castle of despair.” It’s dark down there.  I suppose we all have had our dark moments. And sometimes the darkness drags on…and on. But you know what? The darkness passes. It is important to always remember there is light at the end of the darkness. If you find yourself struggling with the darkness, don’t give up! “This too shall pass.”

Are you experiencing lean times? Do you find sometimes there is some month left over at the end of the money? Is the wolf at the back door? My friend and fellow platform speaker, the late Ken McFarland, said things got so bad when he was a boy, not only was the wolf at the back door, but “she moved in the house with us and raised a litter of pups under the kitchen table!”

Are you struggling to make ends meet? Do you wonder where the next is coming from? “This too shall pass.”

Or, are you being blessed beyond your wildest dreams? Do you have more than you ever imagined? Best you be generous with your abundance. And don’t forget to lay something back for a rainy day. “This too shall pass.”

Is your heart grieving over some great loss? Are you seeking an explanation to that which, for now, cannot be explained? Are you enveloped by feelings of hopelessness?  May you find courage in the words of Kipling, “And so hold on when there is nothing in you, except the will which says, “Hold on!” My momma used to say, “Time is a great healer.”

Or, are the burdens of your life becoming more than you can bear? There is so much “stuff” with which we all must deal. I call them the pressures of life - family pressures and work related pressures and financial pressures and time pressures. And then there are the unnecessary pressures we put on ourselves – the pressures to live up to the unrealistic expectation of others….and sometimes, ourselves.

Do you find yourself in a “pressure cooker?” “This too shall pass.”

This quote by Harriet Beecher Stowe is among my very favorites:

“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you until it seems that you cannot hold on for a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time when the tide will turn.”

It is another way of saying “This too shall pass.”

And speaking of dark moments in life, I can assure you there is light at the end of your darkness for one reason, and one reason only. “A light has come into the world. And the Light has overcome the darkness.”

  Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall

Encouragement

The story goes that, many years ago, the great American inventor, Thomas Alva Edison, was attending a convening of forward thinkers in a major city. Henry Ford, who would become America’s foremost car maker, was in attendance.

During the convention, Edison was seated at a table attempting to explain the workings of the internal combustion engine to a group of onlookers. During his discussion, Ford walked up and began listening to Edison’s presentation.

Suddenly, Ford stepped forward and began to pound his fist on the table, as he exclaimed, “You’ve got it, young man! You’ve got it!”

Years later, Edison would say, “The sound of that man’s hand pounding on that table has meant worlds to me!”

I suppose we all could use a bit of encouragement or affirmation from time to time. One of my favorite quotes comes from Biblical scholar, William Barclay:

“One of the highest duties is the duty of encouragement. It is easy to laugh at men’s ideals; it is easy to pour cold water on their enthusiasm; it is easy to discourage others. The world is full of discouragers. We have a Christian duty to encourage one another. Many a time a word of praise or thanks or appreciation or cheer has kept a man on his feet. Blessed is the man (or woman) who speaks such a word.”

A popular cliché goes like this: “Life is hard by the yard, but a cinch by the inch.” Well, that sounds nice, but sometimes life is hard even when you take it an inch at a time. Sometimes, to use the words of Rudyard Kipling from his poem entitled ‘If,” you must “hold on when there is nothing in you except the Will which says to you, “Hold on!”

There are so many great writings I fear are being lost to the past. Here’s one I share as an encouragement to you. It is titled “Desiderata.”

“Go placidly amid the noise and the haste and learn what peace may be in silence. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they, too, have their story. If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”

“Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals and everywhere life is full of heroism.”

“Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune, but do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.”

 “Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.”

 Over the years, I have consistently found the words of ancient hymns to be a rich source of encouragement. One of my favorites goes like this, “Be faithful weary pilgrim, the morning I can see…”

 Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall

Dropping Sticks

I found myself dropping sticks in a tobacco patch one day last week. Well, in a way. I was caught up in a trip down memory lane.

Now, to the uneducated, the term “dropping sticks” might sound a bit foreign. It is not like you are walking through a tobacco patch and accidently let some sticks fall to the ground – like “dropping a stick.” Veterans of the tobacco patch, on the other hand, know that dropping sticks is a very important part of the tobacco cutting (harvesting) process.

In years gone by, when cutting and spiking tobacco was a two man operation, tobacco sticks were dropped on the ground between the two rows to be cut. As the cutter downed the two rows in front of him, he reached down, picked up a tobacco stick and handed it to the spiker. Then, he cut the next 5 or 6 stalks of tobacco and passed them back to be spiked. As the plants were cut and spiked, another tobacco stick magically appeared in the row. Best I can recall, my brothers and I were taught to lay (or drop) the sticks end-to-end, or let them overlap an inch or two. It was no small feat to tote an arm-load of tobacco sticks through big tobacco when dropping sticks that way. You kind of had to walk sideways.

In later years, and in today’s world most tobacco is cut and piled by the cutters – 5 or 6 stalks to the pile. Later, when the tobacco has “fallen” (wilted), the same ones who cut the tobacco come back and spike it. Even though the process is different, tobacco sticks still have to be “dropped.”

On the farm where I grew up my father had a simple philosophy when it came to cutting tobacco – “Make it easy on the man who follows you.” So, we were taught “the art” of dropping sticks. It involved two unspoken maxims: (1) Don’t make the spiker have to hunt for the stick. (2) If possible have the stick land with the high end of the stick near the butt-ends of the stalks in the pile. That may sound a bit technical, but it was really very simple – “Pay attention to what you are doing.”

I found early in my career you had much more control over where and how a tobacco stick landed if you spun it as you let it go. That is especially true if you were dropping sticks on more than one row as you walked through the tobacco patch. The thought of strategically landing tobacco sticks years ago brought a smile to my face.           

The next thing I remembered was the weight of a bundle of 50 tobacco sticks. In this summer’s heat I would have been sweatin’ like a pig by the time I had unloaded the bundles at the tobacco patch.

I was pleased, once again, to recall the many personalities of tobacco sticks. I remembered some fashioned from a tree limb – dark in color – round and straight. And there were still a few of the “split-out” variety – irregular in shape and one-of-a-kind. There were skinny ones and heavy ones – some so big they felt like 2 by 4’s (And a chore to make the spike fit on.) And there were slick ones and splintery ones. It took me back to tobacco stick dropping heaven.

I miss those old tobacco patches. I suppose the sights, sounds, smells, and the “feel” of tobacco stalks, tobacco sticks, tobacco gum and tobacco knives became a part of me somewhere along the way.

Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall

Roots and Wings

I read somewhere a few years ago the two greatest things we can give our children are “roots and wings.” By “roots” the writer meant a foundation for building a life, or that which provides a stable anchor against life’s challenges and storms. By “wings” he meant a life’s vision and the courage to fulfill one’s life’s calling. Both roots and wings are necessary for one to live well. The two go hand in hand.

I am part of that generation called the “baby boomers,” the post-WWII generation born from 1946 to 1964. Sadly, it seems, we, as a generation, dropped the ball somewhere along the way. Many (or most) of those of the generations following us, known as Generation X, Generation Y, and the Millenniums, seem to be woefully lacking when it comes to “roots and wings.” I suppose there are many reasons.

The United States of America came out of World War II as the undisputed champion of the world. And, as she flexed her economic muscles, more people made more money faster than at any other time in the history of mankind. Those of the WWII Generation made it look easy; but having seen the hardships of the Great Depression, they worked long and hard, and were committed to providing a better life for their families.

I remember my mother, when stressing the importance of a college education, saying, over and over again, “I don’t want you to have to work as hard as your father did.”

The prosperity of the post WWII era made life easier for us Baby Boomers. In some ways, that was not a good thing.  We, in turn, attempted to make it easier for the next generation.

For the Baby Boomers, there was an “expectation” for us to do as well as our parents. The next generation came along and felt “entitled” to live as well as their parents.

So, we are left with the cold reality that two generations made it too easy for the generations which followed.

Here’s a haunting quote: “Men work hard to make money, so their sons won’t have to endure the hardships that made men out of their fathers.”

And here’s something else to consider. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I would submit there are fewer atheists when thousands and thousands of mothers and fathers have sons who are in foxholes.

Those of the WWII Generation came out of the war with a renewed vision of God. I would submit our mothers and fathers believed in God because they “knew” God. They had “experienced” God. Sadly, too many of my generation, the Baby Boomers, came to believe in God because their parents believed in God. That’s called “running on someone else’s gasoline.”  What do you tell the next generation about God when you have been running on someone else’s gasoline?

I once had a dear friend, now deceased, whose daughter, after finishing college; married a young man from Peru. She had grown up Baptist. He had grown up Catholic. Over the years, they seemed to enjoy a solid marriage, but they never could find any common religious ground from which to teach their children.  

“They tried for years to settle on a church to take the kids and never could,” he once lamented to me. “So, the children have always seemed to be adrift, religiously speaking.”

“So they have no spiritual roots,” I offered.

“No spiritual roots,” he said sadly, as he shook his head. I felt a deep sadness for my friend.

It was the greatest of all teachers who said:

“Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.”

 You know, solid foundations and deep roots have a lot in common. They are both needful and necessary in navigating the storms of life.

 “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31

 Roots and wings - essentials in building a meaningful life.

 Copyright 2025 by Jack McCall