| VOLUME 7 SPECIAL ISSUE |
|
JULY 1978 |
A Community of Men
and Mills
By Jean Anderson
Watermills filled a unique position in rural America before the 20th century.
As industrial, commercial, and social centers they touched the lives of
people at many points, becoming interwoven not only with the economic fabric
of society but with its psychological fabric as well. I should like to discuss
these aspects of mills, confining my remarks to the mills of old Orange
County, North Carolina.
Mills were first of all industrial units converting raw materials into
usable products, most often grain into flour and cornmeal, and logs into
lumber. By their owners they were viewed as good investments. Richard Bennehan
could report in 1807, a year after he bought his mill on Eno, "My mill
now has a handsome run of business." The initial capital outlay, which
varied greatly from mill to mill, could bring a nice return. The Eno River
mills cost anywhere from $1000 to $6500. A saw mill rarely exceeded the
lower figure. With their usual two runs of stones, grist mills could grind
up to six bushels of both corn and wheat an hour. In a ten-hour day this
translated into $60 a day for both corn and wheat. Archibald Murphey estimated
in 1821 that his Haw River mills yielded a yearly profit of from $1200 to
$2000. Census records from 1850 to 1880 give mill statistics and show their
productivity. (See Centerfold.) A mill took a toll of anywhere from l/8th
to l/12th of what it ground - whatever the market would bear. The mill also
took a toll of the miller's health: respiratory diseases, commonly asthma,
were occupational hazards.
Wages for millers were minimal. West Point paid its miller only $150 in
1870; Paul Cameron and John A. Cole paid their millers $200. Before the
Civil War competent slaves often ran the mills, thereby saving outlay for
wages entirely. Murphey, Bennehan, and Cameron mills were operated this
way for years.
Not wages but maintenance reduced mill profits. A mill owner could calculate
capital investment, grinding averages, market prices, and wages with accuracy;
for other factors - a good mill seat; amount and pressure of water; the
size of the wheel, stones, and gearing; and the quality of the stones -
he could depend on a good millwright to produce an efficient mechanism;
but the factor he could not estimate was repairs.
West Point Mill Flooded.
Photo by Hugh Mangum at the turn
of the century.
Mills on Piedmont rivers were exceedingly vulnerable structures. Heavy
and continued rain always resulted in freshets that turned placid streams
into raging torrents. Even more vulnerable were the mill dams. It was not
uncommon for a single freshet to destroy all the dams on a river. When repairs
could be made by slaves they were cheaply done; when they required skilled
supervision they could be costly. The Cameron family papers,which cover
almost two hundred years reveal how frequently their mills were not in operation.
Paul Cameron's sentiments on the subject tell the sad truth; of Cameron's
New Mill he wrote, "Never was a mill sustained and maintained at so
much labour and cost in our part of the county." He characterized the
repairs as "at all times to me the most unpleasant and ... unprofitable
sort of work ..." That both his Eno mills lay in the triassic basin
may have contributed to their troubles, but his was the common experience
of mill owners in this region. Neither Bennehan's, Cameron's, nor the West
Point mill is listed in the 1850 census, for all were out of order.
Millwrights called in to do repairs charged high prices. Usually they were
found in families who passed the skill down from one generation to the next.
The Staleys and Dixons were two such families in the area. The 1850 census
shows five Dixons listed as millwrights and six other millwrights associated
with them in their business. Conrad Staley built Cameron's Mill on the Flat
River in Person County;
Abraham Staley built their New Mill on the Eno. Caleb Dixon was called
in to do repairs for them and rendered a bill Paul Cameron never forgot.
When he next needed a millwright he wrote his father, "I will keep
clear of those free soilers and blood suckers - Dixons!" Mill repairs
minimized profits,
As commercial and social centers, mills depended on rather different factors.
A frontier settlement could not predict its future demographic and traffic
patterns - modern sciences directly related to a mill's commercial success.
The interaction of the growth of settlements and roads is like that of the
chicken and the egg: it's hard to say which came first. And then as now
new roads were political matters. A mill needed a location within reach
of a burgeoning population of farmers, and roads to bring them to the mill.
The location of mills often determined the location of roads and vice versa.
Even more than a well-traveled road, a mill owner hoped for a location near
a crossroads. Cabe's mill was on the Fish Dam Rd., a major east-west route,
roughly highway #70 today, but Borland's mill, its closest competitor, in
later years found itself not only on the Fish Dam Rd. but on a north-south
road as well, running from St. Mary's Chapel in the north to the New Hope
Chapel and further south to Chapel Hill. Borland's mill outlived Cabe's
by many years.
Well-traveled routes usually incorporated good fords. The wise mill-builder
situated his mill beside one. Shoemaker's Ford was certainly a bonus to
the West Point Mill. Even if road patterns could not be predicted, a good
ford was always recognizable. Michael Synnott ignored this important factor.
There was no crossing at his mill. Neither was there a ford at William Johnston's
mill on Little River. Both mills were out of business before the end of
the 18th century.
Even better than a ford was a bridge. Bennehan was fortunate to obtain
a bridge at his mill early in the 19th century; the only other bridge across
Eno was eighteen miles upstream at Hillsborough. In 1851, thirty years later,
the situation was unchanged. In that year the farmers around Dickson's mill
petitioned the court for a bridge there, citing the many days during the
year when the river was "past fording", handicapping the farmers
who needed to get their produce to market. They would have got their bridge
if pressure from another quarter had not reversed the court order and placed
it instead at the West Point Mill crossing, giving that mill an instant
advantage over its competitors. Today the site of Dickson's Mill still has
only a ford and lies in a backwater of the county, adjacent to a vast uninhabited
area once dotted with homesteads, while West Point Mill stands on a main
artery in the pulse of a growing city.
To the people whom the mills served, they meant daily bread; but they could
supply other vital services as well. A blacksmith shop was often the first
auxiliary service added to a grist and saw mill (many early mills were both
saw and grist mills but not all). A smith could make and repair farm and
kitchen equipment and shoe horses. Some mills went further and supplied
tilt hammers for more sophisticated smithing; McCown's Mill (later Cole's)
and Dickson's Mill were tilt hammer mills through part of their long histories.
Dickson advertised in 1849 that he made carding machines, wheat fans, wagons,
and ploughs. His mill, like many others, had a general store attached to
it where he sold flour, wheat, cornmeal, wool rolls, and shingles with a
small stock of other food stuffs. Instead of cash he would accept any of
the above items and flax seed, beeswax, feathers, and tallow as well. It
is plain to see that he had grist, saw, oil, and tilt hammer mills. It is
a wonder he did not have a distillery. Whiskey was always a hot item in
mill stores, and many mills ran distilleries as part of the mill complex.
Dickson did not mention cotton gins or threshing machines either, services
offered by his nearest competitor upstream, Lyon's Mill.
Through all these services a mill strengthened not only its economic base
but its position as a community center. It drew to it scores of farmers
and their families whose many needs it could supply, and it drew to it the
men who performed those services: miller, sawyer, blacksmith, wool-carder,
ginner, distiller, thresher, wagoner, and store-keeper and their apprentices
and clerks and helpers, all of whom lived either nearby or on the mill tract
itself. A symbiosis developed between the mill and the people, between the
industry and the society-they sustained each other.
In its social role the mill supplied first a meeting place for chance encounters
and for scheduled groups like the Sons of Temperance and other social, religious,
or political assemblages. Widely separated on their scattered homesteads,
unimaginably isolated, the rural families hungered for contact with other
people, a nourishment that the mill freely gave. Against a backdrop of working
machines, in themselves fascinating and challenging, the people met. They
came to grind their grain and saw their logs, to mend their ploughs and
buy their provisions, to shoe their horses and gin their cotton. The sheriff
came at appointed times to collect their taxes. The politicians came to
make their pitches and exchange promises and whiskey for votes. The federal
government made use of the mill, too; the bestowal of a post office was
certification of a mill's centricity and yet another reason to draw people
to it. With the post rider and mail came the newspapers and journals and
knowledge of life beyond the region.
Men swapped news and views and horses and land. Men came to fish in the
mill pond and boys came to swim. At Borland's Mill bets could be placed
on Saturday morning tor races to be run that afternoon at borland s racetrack
nearby. At another mill, men held shooting matches. Broadsides tacked to
the mill walls told of estate sales, runaway slaves, strayed animals, stud
horses, militia musters, quack medicines, and camp meetings, and drew the
isolated farm families into the web of a society. The people sensed themselves
as part of a group that shared common needs, interests, and experiences;
that feeling sustained and supported them.
A Borland descendant proud of his mill heritage philosophizes about the
old days of watermills: "It would be difficult," he says, "to
assess the impact of these old mills over the years. I hold with the belief
that they had a great and good influence...on the opening up and development
of communities." They gave people a place to meet, to become acquainted,
and to exchange ideas on politics, morals, and religion. The mills challenged
their owners' ingenuity to harness nature to perform their needs, to improve
and perfect machines, and to convert goods, services, and profits.
These social and psychological functions of mills were certainly not in
the minds of their builders, who looked only for financial gain and convenience;
nor were they in the minds of the busy farmers who willingly bartered or
bought their manifold services. But in retrospect all who lived in the days
of watermills acknowledge the wider role that mills played in their lives:
the excitement, the pleasure, the stimulation to growth of mind and sociability,
and to a sense of identity and membership in a community and in a nation.
Advertisement for Holden's Mill from the Hillsborough
Recorder.
Sources
The following sources were used in the preparation of this paper:
The Cameron Papers, Southern Historical Collection, University of North
Carolina Library at Chapel Hill.
The Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth Censuses of the United States of America,
1850, 1860, and 1870.
The Hillsborough Recorder.
An unpublished article by John Marshall Link, "Information Regarding
the 'Old Borland-McCauley Mill' and the Community Around the Same."