What’s up Doc?

Several days ago I read with great interest the excellent article by Garland Goodwin entitled, Remembering Charlie Feagan. The article rekindled my memories of another former fixture on the streets of Tryon – my uncle Earl Porter – who lived in Polk County for the entire 85 years he spent on this earth. We nieces and nephews called Earl, “Doc”, a nickname probably given to him because of his ability to minister to both our physical and mental needs. We all went to “Doc” with our cuts and bruises or just to get a laugh when we needed one.

Doc was actually a paradox (pun intended). He was at ease in his Osh Gosh overalls and white tee shirt (or flannel shirt in the winter) during the week when he went to work at Duke Power Company in Spartanburg (he worked there for over forty years). On the other hand, Earl was just as comfortable wearing a Brooks Brothers suit to the Penecostal Holiness Church on Sundays. Doc was a rugged, burly lineman for the power company often risking life and limb restoring electricity in the midst of thunderstorms. At the same time, he loved flowers and had a green thumb that could make anything grow. Earl and his wife Janie’s house on Wilcox Road and Highway 176 was a spring and summer floral showcase highlighted by pink azaleas and huge crowns of thorn. Doc had no children of his own; yet, he loved children and related to them in a special way. Every niece and nephew along with all the neighborhood kids cherished the times they spent with him. I spent many wonderful evenings sitting on Doc’s knee listening to his humorous stories.

Every Tuesday through Saturday, Earl would get into his Ford Fairlane (he only bought Fords) at 6 a.m. and make the trip down highway 176 to Spartanburg. At 6 p.m., he would pull back into his driveway like clockwork ready for supper and anxious to work in his yard weeding and watering flowers.

Sunday and Monday were Doc’s days off. He went to church every Sunday. Most days he would stay for “preaching”, but some Sundays he would slip out after Sunday School and walk over to his mother’s house near the old Home Ice Plant. There, he would gorge himself on huge homemade biscuits filled with maple syrup. Earl followed the same routine on Monday for many years. He would rise early, put on his overalls, shirt, and work boots, and head for town.

His first stop on most days was at Les Barnette’s Esso filling station across from the old Ford dealership.

Earl would gas up and meticulously check various elements of the car while he and Les would talk about things happening around town.

Once the car was taken care of, Doc would drive to Thompson’s barbershop for his weekly haircut. He would wait for his favorite barber, Bubba Lowe, to be free, spending the time talking with the other “regulars.” On the way out off the barbershop, Earl would get his boots shined by “Jew Baby” who had a stand in front of the shop (I learned after Doc passed away that he gave the shoe shine man more money than the shine cost. In fact, Earl almost supported him monetarily).

Earl’s third stop was at the old post office where he collected his mail once a week from Box 372. The post office was another institution where he would meet other friends for a handshake and a good conversation. Doc’s final stop on Monday was at Owen’s Drugstore. There he had coffee, perhaps an egg sandwich, and surely more conversations.

From the drugstore, Earl would drive home. On some occasions he and Janie would then take a pleasure drive up the mountain. On most Monday afternoons Doc would again be working in his yard.

I know I am prejudiced; however, Earl Porter was a man who loved his community and indeed, his fellow man. He always had something positive to say about everyone he met. Earl once told me he was fortunate to have lived his entire life in small town America. That’s a rare statement these days. What’s up Doc?