to be made was. Pa could almost pick
up the right mould in the dark, he was so used to doing it. The patterns
for the pots and kettles of different sizes were all in rows, each row
being a different size. In my mind I can still see them.

"Hot molten iron from the vats was dipped with spoons which were handled
by two men. Both spoons had long handles, with a man at each handle. The
spoons would hold from four to five gallons of hot iron that poured just
like water does. As quick as the men poured the hot iron in the mould,
another man came along behind them and closed the mould. The large
moulds had doors and the small moulds had lids. They had small pans and
small spoons for little things, like nails, knives and forks, When the
mould had set until cold, the piece was prized out.

"Pa had a turn for making covered skillets and fire dogs. He made them
so pretty that white ladies would come and give an order for a 'pair of
dogs', and tell him how they wanted them to look. He would take his
hammer and beat them to look just that way.

"Rollers pressed out the hot iron for machines and for special lengths
and things that had to be flat. Railroad ties were pressed out in these
rollers. Once the man that handled the hot iron to be pressed through
these rollers got fastened in them himself. He was a big man. The blood
flew out of him as his bones were crushed, and he was rolled into a mass
about the thickness and width of my hand. Each roller weighed about
2,000 pounds.

"The man who got killed was named Alex Golightly. He taught the boys my
age how to swim, fish and hunt. His death was the worst thing that had
happened in the community. The man who worked at the foundry, made Alex
a coffin. It had to be made long and thin because he was mashed up so
bad. In those days coffins were nothing but boxes anyway, but Alex's
coffin was the most terrible thing that I have ever seen. I reckon if
they had had pretty coffins then like they do now, folks would have
bought them to sleep in.

"Hundreds went to Alex's funeral, white and black, to see that long
narrow coffin and the grave which was dug to fit it. On the way to the
graveyard, negroes sang songs, for Alex was a good man. They carried him
to the Cherokee graveyard on the old Smith Ford Road, and there they
buried him. My father helped to build the coffin and he helped haul him
to the graveyard. Pa worked at the Iron Foundry until he was very old.
He worked there before I w