George Brown
By George Brown

John Henry Brown was about the sweetest little boy to ever reside in Kudzu County. He was polite, thoughtful, kind, considerate, industrious, and obedient, especially obedient. When his Mom told him to do something, or told him not to do something, John Henry always said “Yes Mam”, and then he did whatever it was his Mom told him to do, or he didn’t do whatever it was she told him not to do – just like that, every time, with no questions asked.

John Henry was not like other little boys and girls. “But why”, spoken in that whiny squeaky voice little boys and girls use when they’re told do something they don’t want to do, was not in John Henry’s vocabulary. The word “No” was in John Henry’s vocabulary, but he never used it unless it was politely followed by the word, “Mam.”

What made John Henry’s uprightness all the more remarkable was his age. You see, John Henry was only four going on five. Even more remarkable was the fact that John Henry had been like this from the day he came out of his Mother’s womb. His Mother was fond of telling folks that the only time John Henry ever cried was when the doctor slapped his bottom to make him breathe, and how he had stopped crying as soon as he caught his breath, and had never cried a day since. John Henry’s Mother was so proud she would sometimes take him to the grocery store even when she didn’t need anything just to hear the clerks and other admiring Moms comment about what a fine, handsome, well behaved little boy John Henry was. John Henry was as perfect as a little cherub sent straight from the gates of heaven; that is, until the day he succumbed to an unfortunate fault.

It was not a major fault as faults go, not a mortal sin kind of fault, but a fault nonetheless. John Henry’s fault was that he chewed tobacco. He didn’t set out to chew tobacco in a sneaky sort of way. That would have gone against the grain of his upright character. It just sort of happened, but once John Henry had acquired a taste for the sweet juicy flavor of Beechnut Chewing Tobacco there was no turning back.

You’re probably wondering how such a fault could have overcome a good little boy like John Henry. Well, the account I’m sharing with you is exactly as it was told to me by John Henry himself – a much older John Henry to be sure. I happened to meet John Henry while hiking at Seven Islands State Park this past Saturday when Yvonne and I were visiting friends in Knoxville, Tennessee. John Henry had stopped to rest and get a fresh chew of tobacco when I met up with him. We fell into conversation about chewing, which I’d tried myself as a boy but never took a liking to. Though now an old man, John Henry’s hand was steady, his mind was clear, and he had a twinkle in his eyes as he shared the story of how he took up the habit of chewing tobacco. Here is the rest of the story in John Henry’s own words.

“On Tuesdays, after my older brothers and sister left for school, my Mom would take me to visit my Grandma and Great Granny in Tuckerville. At that time Grandma was about 70 and Granny was near 90. I’d stay with Grandma and Granny while Mom went down to Betty Tucker’s Salon on Main Street to have her hair done. Betty’s Great Great Grandpa, Hiram Tucker, settled Tuckerville in the early 1800s.

“I liked Grandma, but Granny was special. I was her little boy and she was my Granny. We planned on getting married when I grew up. Granny’s chin whiskers tickled my cheek when she kissed me, and I could smell the sweet aroma of of Beechnut Chewing Tobacco on her breath. Every few minutes Granny would lean over and pick up a Maxwell House coffee can from beside her rocking chair and spit in it. When a wad of tobacco was well chewed she would throw it into the yard. I’d watch as Granny opened the screen door and gave the wad of tobacco a good fling.

“Directly, Granny would be ready for another chew. I’d stand by her chair and watch as she pulled a pack of Beechnut from her apron pocket, opened it, and pulled some tobacco out to put in her mouth. A few bits and pieces of tobacco would always fall onto Granny’s lap, and I’d pick them up real quick and put them in my mouth. Granny was nearly blind so she couldn’t see what I was doing and Grandma wasn’t paying any attention. The tobacco burned my lips a little but it tasted good. When I was done chewing I’d just swallow the juice and the little pieces of tobacco instead of spitting them out.

“On my fifth birthday my whole family was visiting Grandma and Granny, and one of my brothers happen to notice me picking up the bits of tobacco from Granny’s lap and putting them in my mouth. Of course he told Mom, and all of a sudden everybody had gathered around to see if it was true.

Dad thought he would have a little fun so he sat me on his knee and held a pack of Granny’s tobacco in one hand and a Hershey candy bar in the other, and said, “John Henry, which one would you like to have for your birthday?”

“I’d like to have the tobacco, Sir”, I said.

Everyone started laughing and Dad asked, “Do you really like tobacco?”

“Yes Sir”, I said. “But I like the wet ones best.”

Well this broke everyone up because they suddenly realized I was talking about the tobacco wads Granny was always throwing into the yard. My brothers and sister were rolling on the floor laughing, but Mom had an astonished, sober look on her face. She took me aside and explained that tobacco is only for grown ups, not for little boys, and she asked me to promise I would never chew tobacco again.

I said, “Yes Mam, I promise.”

At this point John Henry looked me square in the eye and said, “That was the first time in my life I ever told a lie because I knew full well I was going to chew Granny’s tobacco at the first opportunity, and I did. John Henry paused, spit some tobacco juice on the ground, and said, “I guess you could say chewing tobacco was my downfall because from that day on I was no different than every other little boy, and here I am still chewing tobacco after all these years.”