“The Collinses still live in the old schoolhouse. That’s back in these woods, pretty close to a mile south of here. Edmunds’s store is out there somewheres, too. Called that section Centerville, but they didn’t have no post office or nothing. Watson’s nephews Julian and Willie Collins lived right near that schoolhouse, and his niece May was a close friend to my sisters.
“All along this north side was Sam Tolen’s place, what was left of the old Ichetucknee Plantation. Them black-and-white cattle you see in there back of them trees is just the kind Sam Tolen had here sixty years ago, so what with this old clay road and all, it’s kind of scary how these woods ain’t changed. Most places in this county has growed over so much I can’t hardly recognize where I grew up. Weren’t near so many oaks, y’know, we had open woods and great big virgin pines. Today all them big pines have been timbered out.”
The car ran silently on the soft track, under the forest trees. Spanish moss stirred listlessly in hot, light air. “Had a turpentine still down by the railroad and twelve-fifteen small cabins for the workers—hard work, too. Cut the pine with a hack, make a deep V-mark on the trunk, collect the resin in a bucket. They hauled that over to the still, made turps and varnish.”
Soon the Deacon signaled Lucius to pull over. “See that road that’s blocked by that felled tree? That’s Old Sam’s road, runs a half mile through the woods up to his house. I never seen that road closed off before, and I been around here all my life.” He peered about him. “I can’t take you up to Sam’s house with that road stopped up cause I don’t walk so good. I better give you the whole story on the Tolens while I got it right here in my head.”
GROVER KINARD
Sam Tolen had twelve hundred acres, one of the biggest farms around. Once he got hold of the plantation by marrying the widow, he called it the Tolen Plantation, and all around here became known as Tolen Settlement, and when our post office come in, it was called Tolen, Florida. Mike Tolen’s place was about a hundred eighty acres, back over to the west along the railroad. He wasn’t near as wealthy as what Sam was.
Sam Tolen was in his forties, heavyset, growed a big stomach. Besides whiskey and cattle, the only thing he cared about was baseball. He didn’t play baseball himself, just got het up over it. Sent all the way to St. Louis for The Sporting News, mowed off some of his pasture to make a baseball diamond. Might been the one time in his life that feller gave up something for nothing.
At that time, Sam and Leslie Cox was friendly, because Sam had the baseball diamond and Les Cox was the star of our Tolen Team. And our heroes was Honus Wagner, Pittsburgh Pirates, and Napoleon Lajoie, who played second base for Cleveland, Ohio. I remember that ad for Red Devil tobacco: Lajoie Chews Red Devil! Ask Him if He Don’t! Called that team the Naps right up until Nap left, did you know that? Ain’t too many as remembers that today. After that they called ’em the Indians, don’t ask me why. Folks had no use for Injuns around here.
The Tolen Team would go from place to place, and teams come here to play them, had a game every Saturday all spring and summer. America was crazy about baseball then, never thought nothing about football and basketball, way they do now. It’s like some big leaguer once said in the papers, baseball was played by men of normal size. Every boy in America wanted to be a professional ballplayer, and every community that could scrape up nine young men had ’em a ball club, and bigger towns that could afford uniforms might find some horn players and have ’em a parade out to the field before the game. They played some grand old Confederate marches and some new tunes, too.
The Tolen Team, as best I can recall, was Les Cox, pitcher, Luther Kinard, substitute pitcher and first baseman, Brooks Kinard, catcher, John Livingston, second base, Herkie Burdett, third base, Gordon Burdett, left field, Sam Kinard, center field. Them boys played regular. Brooks Kinard was catcher for Les Cox, and when them two played, we wasn’t beat too often. Luther pitched when Les weren’t there, but he couldn’t pitch nothing at all like Leslie Cox.
I recall one game with Fort White, they hired two ace players from High Springs so they could try and beat the Tolen Team, and one of our players went with Fort White because he thought that this time they were bound to beat us. That feller was the only one who got as far as second base all afternoon, because Les Cox struck out the rest of ’em as fast as they come up, and we beat them boys from High Springs ten to nothing!
Les Cox never minded throwing a few beanballs, and he could throw the hardest ball I’ve ever heard of in my life, so none of their batters stood up close to the plate. Just poked at the pitch as it flew by, got no real cut at it. We read all about Cy Young and Christy Mathewson and them, but we figured Les had the fastest fastball in the whole U.S. and A., and I guess Les thought so, too. Sam Tolen said it was only a matter of time before the major league scouts would hear about this boy and come to get him, that’s how good he was, or Piedmont League, at least. Pay him a hundred dollars every month just to play ball!