Son of George Pectol and Sarah Reasor
He never married.
An Enduring Legacy, Volume Seven, p. 37
In the following sketch, Olive Curfew Hunt gives a picture of conditions in Caineville under the leadership of Bishop Hanks and the janitor, Uncle Billy.
Although settlements in the lower part of Wayne County were small--an average of fifteen to twenty-five families life was by no means dull or tiresome. Everyone was awake, alert, ready for and interested in anything that promised fun or excitement. As a child I never recall when some "doin's" were not in the making or going on. We lived across the way from the combined schoolhouse, church and recreational hall and therefore got the benefit of it all.
One memory I'll alway retain is that of Billy Pectol, my little dwarf uncle, going by to light the house with the small kerosene lamps, ring the bell and in the winter build fires in the big-bellied cast-iron stove. Dressed in his skimpy, round-tailed grey and white-checked suit, pant legs tight and coming almost to his funny soot-blackened shoe tops, he looked like an elf or dwarf stepped out from a story book. And I remember he walked with a sort of hitch, due to "them doggone corns." His height was four feet ten; his weight, one hundred more or less, mostly less. He had bushy overhanging eyebrows, greenish brown eyes, a flat nose, high cheek bones, and if he ever had a full set of teeth I fail to remember them. But withal he was loved by the whole community.
This was Uncle Billy, janitor, floor manager, mail carrier, newspaper, unequalled teamster on the horsepower thresher. A very important character, and best of all, he arrived on April first. What a trick for fate to play! But how it helped for fun. Celebrating his birthday was a ritual for the neighborhood folks.
He was always on time with his duties. "Prompt" was the Caineville slogan in general Uncle Billy in particular. We could always depend on the first bell one-half hour before time to "take up." Exactly on the dot came the last bell, which was the signal for quietness, for be it church, dance or party, it was always opened with prayer.
At a dance our floor manager would call out "Numbers one to ten take your partners for a waltz," for the hall was too small for more to dance at once. The first set or two created a sensation as the girls would have a chance to display their new dresses as they paraded around the hall before the music started. The musicians, Jonathan Hunt and sons Charley, Moroni and Andrew, took plenty of time to tune up their instruments--the mandolin and violin, accompanied by the organ. Sometimes one of the fellows played a harmonica, while Sidney Curtis with his accordion furnished music for many good times. Dances consisted of the waltz, two-step, polka, schottische, quadrille, and others.
Everyone obeyed Uncle Billy at the dances, as he was backed up by the people, and that meant the bishop, Walter E. Hanks, who was a runner-up with Brigham Young when it came to organizing, colonizing and leadership. With his wife, Mary E., whom we all adored, he attended everything, always dancing, always ready for fun.
No wonder church was a success. No one thought of staying away from church or from mutual. Sorghum candy-pulls were popular, too. The molasses was cooked until it threaded. A pinch of soda was added to make it lighter, then it was turned into buttered tins to cool slightly. When the temperature was right, each person grabbed a wad and began stretching it out into long ribbons, snatching it from someone else, and even twining it around necks. Sorry to say, I never was sport enough for this sticky play.
Rag bees, and husking bees were social events where the participants worked and had fun at the same time. Rags were made ready for weaving carpets, and the fresh corn husks for refilling "bed ticks." Always some refreshments went along with these activities.
Holidays were celebrated with special features: songs, musical selections, pantomimes, dialogues. Sister Sarah (Birdie) wrote and directed some clever little plays which were acclaimed by all. Every Fourth of July my strict aunt, Agnes Carrell, read the Declaration of Independence. We youngsters would get tired and start to play until a stern glance over her glasses bade us be quiet.
He never married.
An Enduring Legacy, Volume Seven, p. 37
In the following sketch, Olive Curfew Hunt gives a picture of conditions in Caineville under the leadership of Bishop Hanks and the janitor, Uncle Billy.
Although settlements in the lower part of Wayne County were small--an average of fifteen to twenty-five families life was by no means dull or tiresome. Everyone was awake, alert, ready for and interested in anything that promised fun or excitement. As a child I never recall when some "doin's" were not in the making or going on. We lived across the way from the combined schoolhouse, church and recreational hall and therefore got the benefit of it all.
One memory I'll alway retain is that of Billy Pectol, my little dwarf uncle, going by to light the house with the small kerosene lamps, ring the bell and in the winter build fires in the big-bellied cast-iron stove. Dressed in his skimpy, round-tailed grey and white-checked suit, pant legs tight and coming almost to his funny soot-blackened shoe tops, he looked like an elf or dwarf stepped out from a story book. And I remember he walked with a sort of hitch, due to "them doggone corns." His height was four feet ten; his weight, one hundred more or less, mostly less. He had bushy overhanging eyebrows, greenish brown eyes, a flat nose, high cheek bones, and if he ever had a full set of teeth I fail to remember them. But withal he was loved by the whole community.
This was Uncle Billy, janitor, floor manager, mail carrier, newspaper, unequalled teamster on the horsepower thresher. A very important character, and best of all, he arrived on April first. What a trick for fate to play! But how it helped for fun. Celebrating his birthday was a ritual for the neighborhood folks.
He was always on time with his duties. "Prompt" was the Caineville slogan in general Uncle Billy in particular. We could always depend on the first bell one-half hour before time to "take up." Exactly on the dot came the last bell, which was the signal for quietness, for be it church, dance or party, it was always opened with prayer.
At a dance our floor manager would call out "Numbers one to ten take your partners for a waltz," for the hall was too small for more to dance at once. The first set or two created a sensation as the girls would have a chance to display their new dresses as they paraded around the hall before the music started. The musicians, Jonathan Hunt and sons Charley, Moroni and Andrew, took plenty of time to tune up their instruments--the mandolin and violin, accompanied by the organ. Sometimes one of the fellows played a harmonica, while Sidney Curtis with his accordion furnished music for many good times. Dances consisted of the waltz, two-step, polka, schottische, quadrille, and others.
Everyone obeyed Uncle Billy at the dances, as he was backed up by the people, and that meant the bishop, Walter E. Hanks, who was a runner-up with Brigham Young when it came to organizing, colonizing and leadership. With his wife, Mary E., whom we all adored, he attended everything, always dancing, always ready for fun.
No wonder church was a success. No one thought of staying away from church or from mutual. Sorghum candy-pulls were popular, too. The molasses was cooked until it threaded. A pinch of soda was added to make it lighter, then it was turned into buttered tins to cool slightly. When the temperature was right, each person grabbed a wad and began stretching it out into long ribbons, snatching it from someone else, and even twining it around necks. Sorry to say, I never was sport enough for this sticky play.
Rag bees, and husking bees were social events where the participants worked and had fun at the same time. Rags were made ready for weaving carpets, and the fresh corn husks for refilling "bed ticks." Always some refreshments went along with these activities.
Holidays were celebrated with special features: songs, musical selections, pantomimes, dialogues. Sister Sarah (Birdie) wrote and directed some clever little plays which were acclaimed by all. Every Fourth of July my strict aunt, Agnes Carrell, read the Declaration of Independence. We youngsters would get tired and start to play until a stern glance over her glasses bade us be quiet.
Son of George Pectol and Sarah Reasor
He never married.
An Enduring Legacy, Volume Seven, p. 37
In the following sketch, Olive Curfew Hunt gives a picture of conditions in Caineville under the leadership of Bishop Hanks and the janitor, Uncle Billy.
Although settlements in the lower part of Wayne County were small--an average of fifteen to twenty-five families life was by no means dull or tiresome. Everyone was awake, alert, ready for and interested in anything that promised fun or excitement. As a child I never recall when some "doin's" were not in the making or going on. We lived across the way from the combined schoolhouse, church and recreational hall and therefore got the benefit of it all.
One memory I'll alway retain is that of Billy Pectol, my little dwarf uncle, going by to light the house with the small kerosene lamps, ring the bell and in the winter build fires in the big-bellied cast-iron stove. Dressed in his skimpy, round-tailed grey and white-checked suit, pant legs tight and coming almost to his funny soot-blackened shoe tops, he looked like an elf or dwarf stepped out from a story book. And I remember he walked with a sort of hitch, due to "them doggone corns." His height was four feet ten; his weight, one hundred more or less, mostly less. He had bushy overhanging eyebrows, greenish brown eyes, a flat nose, high cheek bones, and if he ever had a full set of teeth I fail to remember them. But withal he was loved by the whole community.
This was Uncle Billy, janitor, floor manager, mail carrier, newspaper, unequalled teamster on the horsepower thresher. A very important character, and best of all, he arrived on April first. What a trick for fate to play! But how it helped for fun. Celebrating his birthday was a ritual for the neighborhood folks.
He was always on time with his duties. "Prompt" was the Caineville slogan in general Uncle Billy in particular. We could always depend on the first bell one-half hour before time to "take up." Exactly on the dot came the last bell, which was the signal for quietness, for be it church, dance or party, it was always opened with prayer.
At a dance our floor manager would call out "Numbers one to ten take your partners for a waltz," for the hall was too small for more to dance at once. The first set or two created a sensation as the girls would have a chance to display their new dresses as they paraded around the hall before the music started. The musicians, Jonathan Hunt and sons Charley, Moroni and Andrew, took plenty of time to tune up their instruments--the mandolin and violin, accompanied by the organ. Sometimes one of the fellows played a harmonica, while Sidney Curtis with his accordion furnished music for many good times. Dances consisted of the waltz, two-step, polka, schottische, quadrille, and others.
Everyone obeyed Uncle Billy at the dances, as he was backed up by the people, and that meant the bishop, Walter E. Hanks, who was a runner-up with Brigham Young when it came to organizing, colonizing and leadership. With his wife, Mary E., whom we all adored, he attended everything, always dancing, always ready for fun.
No wonder church was a success. No one thought of staying away from church or from mutual. Sorghum candy-pulls were popular, too. The molasses was cooked until it threaded. A pinch of soda was added to make it lighter, then it was turned into buttered tins to cool slightly. When the temperature was right, each person grabbed a wad and began stretching it out into long ribbons, snatching it from someone else, and even twining it around necks. Sorry to say, I never was sport enough for this sticky play.
Rag bees, and husking bees were social events where the participants worked and had fun at the same time. Rags were made ready for weaving carpets, and the fresh corn husks for refilling "bed ticks." Always some refreshments went along with these activities.
Holidays were celebrated with special features: songs, musical selections, pantomimes, dialogues. Sister Sarah (Birdie) wrote and directed some clever little plays which were acclaimed by all. Every Fourth of July my strict aunt, Agnes Carrell, read the Declaration of Independence. We youngsters would get tired and start to play until a stern glance over her glasses bade us be quiet.
He never married.
An Enduring Legacy, Volume Seven, p. 37
In the following sketch, Olive Curfew Hunt gives a picture of conditions in Caineville under the leadership of Bishop Hanks and the janitor, Uncle Billy.
Although settlements in the lower part of Wayne County were small--an average of fifteen to twenty-five families life was by no means dull or tiresome. Everyone was awake, alert, ready for and interested in anything that promised fun or excitement. As a child I never recall when some "doin's" were not in the making or going on. We lived across the way from the combined schoolhouse, church and recreational hall and therefore got the benefit of it all.
One memory I'll alway retain is that of Billy Pectol, my little dwarf uncle, going by to light the house with the small kerosene lamps, ring the bell and in the winter build fires in the big-bellied cast-iron stove. Dressed in his skimpy, round-tailed grey and white-checked suit, pant legs tight and coming almost to his funny soot-blackened shoe tops, he looked like an elf or dwarf stepped out from a story book. And I remember he walked with a sort of hitch, due to "them doggone corns." His height was four feet ten; his weight, one hundred more or less, mostly less. He had bushy overhanging eyebrows, greenish brown eyes, a flat nose, high cheek bones, and if he ever had a full set of teeth I fail to remember them. But withal he was loved by the whole community.
This was Uncle Billy, janitor, floor manager, mail carrier, newspaper, unequalled teamster on the horsepower thresher. A very important character, and best of all, he arrived on April first. What a trick for fate to play! But how it helped for fun. Celebrating his birthday was a ritual for the neighborhood folks.
He was always on time with his duties. "Prompt" was the Caineville slogan in general Uncle Billy in particular. We could always depend on the first bell one-half hour before time to "take up." Exactly on the dot came the last bell, which was the signal for quietness, for be it church, dance or party, it was always opened with prayer.
At a dance our floor manager would call out "Numbers one to ten take your partners for a waltz," for the hall was too small for more to dance at once. The first set or two created a sensation as the girls would have a chance to display their new dresses as they paraded around the hall before the music started. The musicians, Jonathan Hunt and sons Charley, Moroni and Andrew, took plenty of time to tune up their instruments--the mandolin and violin, accompanied by the organ. Sometimes one of the fellows played a harmonica, while Sidney Curtis with his accordion furnished music for many good times. Dances consisted of the waltz, two-step, polka, schottische, quadrille, and others.
Everyone obeyed Uncle Billy at the dances, as he was backed up by the people, and that meant the bishop, Walter E. Hanks, who was a runner-up with Brigham Young when it came to organizing, colonizing and leadership. With his wife, Mary E., whom we all adored, he attended everything, always dancing, always ready for fun.
No wonder church was a success. No one thought of staying away from church or from mutual. Sorghum candy-pulls were popular, too. The molasses was cooked until it threaded. A pinch of soda was added to make it lighter, then it was turned into buttered tins to cool slightly. When the temperature was right, each person grabbed a wad and began stretching it out into long ribbons, snatching it from someone else, and even twining it around necks. Sorry to say, I never was sport enough for this sticky play.
Rag bees, and husking bees were social events where the participants worked and had fun at the same time. Rags were made ready for weaving carpets, and the fresh corn husks for refilling "bed ticks." Always some refreshments went along with these activities.
Holidays were celebrated with special features: songs, musical selections, pantomimes, dialogues. Sister Sarah (Birdie) wrote and directed some clever little plays which were acclaimed by all. Every Fourth of July my strict aunt, Agnes Carrell, read the Declaration of Independence. We youngsters would get tired and start to play until a stern glance over her glasses bade us be quiet.
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