August 25, 2019 – Couple of bites of Southern
flavor
Bite
No. 1.
“I
am starting to act Southern,” I said to a friend meeting her at The Pie Factory
in Downtown Forest City, North Carolina.
The
Pie Factory is at the corner of Cherry Mountain Street and West Main Street and
sports the famous clock that is often used as a Forest City Icon. The establishment was a bank – in fact construction work began
7/31/1925 and The National Bank of Forest City moved into the building in
1926. J. D. Ledbetter was a co-founder of
the bank. Tomorrow’s blog is the history
of J. D. Ledbetter, The Ledbetter House and about the bank building in great
detail.
The
three-story height corner building is built of Pennsylvania iron slag brick and
in the center back of the first floor is the vault which is equipped with a
door weighing 18 tons. The vault door is
impressive and visible to the patrons.
Over
the last 30 years, it has been many things, including a bank. I, being a fan of
old buildings and history, opened an account there, just because of the
building even though parking was not always convenient. The tellers were beyond “downhome friendly”
and always called me by name – of course I loved it – who wouldn’t – made me
feel “local” during those transactions.
The
day I went to meet my friend, it was a hot – hot August day, the humidity hung
in the air. My hair was already limp, my
makeup ruined by beads of sweat and I’d only left my house, and driven five
minutes to the Mooneyham Library in Forest City in my air conditioned car.
I immediately started to “hunt” for a parking
place under a shade tree – something I rarely do. But when it is blazing hot –
even I, a born New Englander understand the difference between a car parked in
the sun and a car parked in the shade. I
snagged a shaded parking space and had to deal with the low hanging crepe myrtle
branches getting out of and back into my car; but I was thankful for same at
almost the noonday hour.
I
re-traced my drive from the library down the quaint Main Street of Forest City
and snagged another shaded parking place to meet my friend. Walking into the high ceiling original bank
building, now The Pie Factory, the first thing you notice is the magnificent
space, the architecture, and the incredible aroma of the pies lined up in the
glass cabinets.
I
bellied up to the cash register and ordered an ice coffee and it was so refreshing
as I sat and waited and thought about the history of the place. I’d make a
decision on which pie to taste when my friend got there.
When my friend arrived, Becky, she muttered
about the heat, too and greatly understood my comment about parking in the
shade.
“Yes,
when you live in a place long enough – you start to act like the locals.”
Bite
No. 2
I
noticed a framed Southern poem on the wall opposite where you place a to-go
order at the old BBQ restaurant now turned Fish place west of the Catholic
Church.
Waiting
for my to-go order, I had the time to copy it down as it captures the local
flavor. I did not see an author’s name; I hope you enjoy.
The
South . . the place where . . .
everyone
is family,
there
are no strangers,
just
people you haven’t met yet.
The
tea is sweet,
words
are long,
days
are warm, and
faith
is strong.
Growing
up in the South
is
a privilege.
It’s
more than loving sweet tea,
fried
chicken, college football,
and
hunting.
It’s
about being devoted to God,
long
farm fields, front porches and
each
other.
[unknown
author]
