SINNERS AND YANKEES

               (Written about David Harrison Mobley by Sadie Allen, undated)

            "Mr. Mobley was in his eighties when I first met him.  I was eighteen.  He was the father of my friend Winnie, and I was visiting her for the first time.  She and I worked in the same office in Atlanta , were about the same age, did the same type of work, and shared the same boss, whom we both disliked intensely.  Thus began our friendship which has endured through the years.

            The Mobley family had an interesting history.  Mr. Mobley, whose first name was David, was a retired itinerant preacher in the old Methodist Protestant Church , and a Confederate Veteran.  He sired two families, totaling thirteen children.  His first wife died when the score stood at ten children (actually it was 12/MJ) and Mr. Mobley must have been sixty or thereabouts when he remarried, as the older children were grown and there was a sprinkling of grand-children.  The second Mrs. Mobley was in her mid-thirties and a maiden school teacher.  She was a tiny, quiet, reserved little person, affectionately known as "Dolly".  This union produced two sons then a daughter whom he named Winnie Davis, in loving memory of the daughter of Jefferson Davis. 

            Being a Methodist preacher meant that the family was moved from one charge to another, never remaining anywhere long enough to put down roots.  He was born in Walton County , GA. and his ministry was served in the nearby counties and towns, Covington , Social Circle , Madison and Shady Dale.  When Winnie's brothers grew up and went to Atlanta to work and live, one of them bought a home in Decatur , a suburb of Atlanta , and sent for his parents and Winnie.  As soon as Winnie finished business school she also went to work.

            It was a large house and always full of young people--kinfolks who had left their country homes and come to the city to seek education or work.  It was a fabulous place to visit--full of youth, laughter, fun and usually several extra boys, and always Mr. Mobley to add his share to the merriment.  In the summer the long dining table was put on the screened, latticed back porch.  Mr. Mobley sat at the head of the table and he dominated the scene.  When he asked the blessing on the food we were about to eat, one could tell that the intimate relationship between them was of long standing and that a perfect understanding existed between two old friends.  It made us all feel closer to our Heavenly Father because one of His special agents had brought us to his presence.

            There was much "young folks" talk at the table but Mr. Mobley always seemed to be able to top anything that was said.  His wit was boundless, but of the sly, sneaky kind that sometimes takes a little thinking to figure out.  Once we were all excited about a recent weekend trip we had made to Indian Springs, near Jackson , GA.   After we had laughed hysterically over some of the incidents of our trip, Mr. Mobley said: "I went to Indian Springs once.  It was soon after the War.  I camped right there and wouldn't budge.  I ate there, slept there and wouldn't leave the springs for anything.  Yes sir, I spent my whole vacation there--" He paused and when we had pictures in our minds of a young soldier with his tent pitched by the springs, drinking the water and stubbornly refusing to move his camp, he added - "One whole day!"  Then after everybody howled with laughter, he grinned at us with a twinkle in his eye, and quietly resumed eating.

            He wasn't a very prepossessing looking man.  He was medium height, almost bald, of a build usually described as "square", and slightly stooped.  His nose and chin were pointed toward each other as he practically had no teeth of his own and usually wore no dentures.  I don't remember the color of his eyes, but I do remember their laughter squint and the twinkle that was usually there.  His face was far from handsome but it was the good-natured type that is hard to forget.  He wore nondescript clothes and a shabby black felt hat that covered his head whenever he stepped outside of the house.  He was rapidly loosing his hearing.

            He was a familiar figure in the neighborhood.  Mrs. Mobley was the stay-at-home type and the children were at work, but he got around and met everybody.  He spiced up the family conversations with tidbits of neighborhood gossip.  He loved children and they adored him.  He had interesting stories to relate to young and old.  As to his stories, it is hard to say whether he was prouder of his service to the Lord or to the Confederacy.  He liked to tell his experiences as a country preacher, but his army exploits made for more exciting tales so he sort of mingled the two and as a result, his stories bore rather a "Praise the Lord and pass the Ammunition" flavor. The one theme that ran through all of them was The South Shall Rise Again!  Being such a devout Christian and staunch Confederate, I'm sure he came to grips with this conflict of interest and learned to love his enemies, but I don't believe he ever really trusted a Yankee.  I know I never felt the time was ripe to confess to him that I was half-Yankee.

            As far as he was concerned there was only one war of any consequence, and that was the "War Between the States".  In 1927 Winnie was visiting me in Greenville , S.C. , when she received a letter from her father.  Written in his stilted style and spidery hand-writing, it began: "Dear Winnie' on my way home from the War Between the States I stopped the night at Greenville with one James Mobley.  He was a distant kinsman.  He lived on the road to Spartanburg .  Please look him up and remember me to him.  He extended me friendly hospitality."  Since his trip occurred in 1865 and this James Mobley was a middle-aged man at the time, it is not surprising that we could not locate him-he wasn't in the phone book.

            He enjoyed telling stories on himself, like the time the young black couple came to him to perform their wedding ceremony.  When the bridegroom made no move to pay him, Mr. Mobley reminded him: "That will be $3.00 please."  The bridegroom said, "Mr. Mobley, don't you recognize me?  I'm your pressing club man.  I'll just take $3.00 off your bill."  And the time the young couple woke him in the night to marry them.  The front porch was blocked off because the floor was freshly painted, so they went to the bedroom window.  He said he'd perform the ceremony right there and as it was a bright moonlight night and he knew the ceremony from memory, he saw no reason to light a lamp.  But he began to get cold as he stood by the window in his nightshirt and bare feet.  "The bed was right by the window," he continued, "and the young couple never knew that most of their marriage ceremony was performed from under the covers, with my bare feet against Dolly's, getting warm."

            He walked the few blocks to downtown Decatur every day, weather and health permitting, and everybody in town seemed to know him and spoke to him as he stumped along with his gnarled walking stick.  He kept up with events and kept his family informed.

            The last time I saw Mr. Mobley, he was in his nineties and still going strong.  The children and Mrs. Mobley notwithstanding, he continued his walks to town up to the time of his last illness.  He was telling of his most recent trip to town. " I decided I'd go in and pay the water bill," he said, "and do you know they've moved the water works office and a dentist has his office there now?  I decided I'd make the trip to town worthwhile so I just had those last two teeth of mine pulled while I was there."