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To give our readers a chance to experience all that our new website has to offer, we have made all content freely avaiable, through October 1, 2018.
During this time, print and digital subscribers will not need to log in to view our stories or e-editions.
When I first started the Weekly 150, it was originally planned to run to the end of the 2019 calendar year. After several humbling emails and letters of appreciation, it was extended another year and then the next as long as our readers were enjoying the stories. So here we are going into the third year.
It has been an honor and privilege to write these articles. Let me say thank you for the emails and all the support I’ve received. I am humbled by the kind words and appreciation. With each passing week, the time needed to conduct research has increased making it difficult to turn the stories out at a weekly rate.
At some point in the near future, I am considering cutting the stories back to every other week. Mostly in regards to the time needed for research. To keep the stories coming, readers are encouraged to email me and/or provide information on suggested topics.
Picking up, as promised, from last week here is the story of Max Manley.
Max Carlton Manley was the last male of the Newton Manley line. Newton had ten children, eight of whom were male, but by 1925 Max was the last of that section of family lineage.
On May 3, 1925, Max was born to Rob and Virgie Miller Manley. The family lived on Como Road behind the hill where Max called home most of his adult life. Known for his sense of humor, he once said of being an only child, “They took a look at me and decided they didn’t want any more children. They put me on the back porch the first week to see if I was going to bark or something.”
When Max was seven or eight years old, his parents had their house moved across the road. In his youth, he worked on the family farm and attended school. His freshman year in high school he took a job at a grocery store, working on Saturdays starting early in the morning until late at night.
“We had to grind the coffee and all that stuff,” Max said. It was commonplace for customers to drop off their shopping list to be filled by the store clerks while going on to take care of other business or to just socialize. Once the order was ready, the clerk would place the order under the counter until the customer returned.
“I’d be so tired, my legs would be hurting. I’d hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep,” he recalled the long day’s work and then lengthy walk home.
“I worked all my life,” he declared, “I mean hard!” Growing up, his summers were spent behind a team of mules for his granddad and cousins. At the end of one season, his grandfather gave him a new bicycle.
“I had it a month and crashed it - tore it all to pieces. I was coming down through by Wrinkles toward the railroad and another was in front of me 15-20 feet; boy, we were flying! He went in front of Virgil Malone in a Ford Model-T and I couldn’t stop. I hit his front wheel and just folded up. It scared Virgil to death. He didn’t have any brakes on the Model-T and he got down to the flower shop before she could stop.”
Max left home at 17 and moved into the Virginia Hotel on Waldren Street. He began working for Argel and Sarah Finley at their ice cream parlor. After a few months, Max started work for Sarah’s father at Boaz Lumber (located where the city water department is now). Before long Sarah needed help and Max was asked to return. When her father insisted Max help his daughter out he was forced to leave the lumber shed. He managed the ice cream parlor by day and his roommate, Sam Sullivan, managed it in the evenings.