Home Life and Accident Insurance Co.
City of Fordyce
A Thumbnail Sketch of Fordyce
By J.J. Harrison
I am not unmindful that my hometown of Fordyce has long been advertised
by fervent appeals in a million crap games all over.
"Fordyce on the Cotton Belt," "Eighter from Decatur", "Little Joe" and
"Large Richard" are enshrined in the undying amber of the spotted bones.
Towns and people much alike, but Fordyce is different.
Like other towns, Fordyce has stores, mills, money; churches, schools,
and homes; banks, hotels, two undertakers and a Ford agency.
But Fordyce is different.
Like other towns, Fordyce has its quote of lawyers, doctors, preachers,
politicians, and loafers. But it has more flowers than weeds, more dogs
than fleas, more homes than houses, more children than troubles, and
more smiles than tears.
I went with a doctor once to call on the wife of a hog-raiser who lived
in a river bottom. She was suffering from malarial fever. The doctor
went into the house and I remained outside to engage in conversation the
master of the domain. It was an uninviting place plus. The house was
built on stilts near the river bank. Underneath the house was a noisome,
filthy, malodorous hog pen.
With my mind upon the fever racked patient above, I asked the man if he
didn't find the place unhealthy.
"Well, no," he replied, "not enough to complain of. I've been here ten
years and I haven't lost a hog yet."
Fordyce is different.
The people there think more of life and less of living; they count their
boys more valuable than their hogs; they live by the un-amended Golden
Rule.
Truly, Fordyce is different.
