George Singleton tells of a woman who mail ordered a husband during the Great Depression

1920s Star touring car.

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Mail-ordering a husband,” was originally published in the July 5, 1990 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

As I have stated many times, anyone who didn’t grow out of the Great Depression probably missed a big part of life. I am not saying I would like to see another period of hard times, but many interesting events happened then that never happened before and probably will never happen again.

I don’t believe that any one person could identify or explain the reasons such things happened. My guess is that there was so much change and unrest until most folks didn’t really feel secure in their professions or lifestyles.

But there were some exceptions. Some people became more set in their ways. They became more and more embedded in the land and their hold on it.

Miss Sally was an old-maid member of a family that lived in and around the community where I was raised. She had two sisters and her mother, who lived together on a small farm. The farmland was quite rich and fertile and would grow just about anything. This family rented almost all the land to other farmers because there wasn’t a male family member to work and supervise. The head of the family had passed away some years back, leaving the mother and three daughters to manage for themselves. But despite the unhappy circumstances, the four lived quite well and were well thought of.

Being the youngest, Miss Sally was quite attractive. She dressed very neatly and raised many an eyebrow with the eligible middle-aged men. But Miss Sally wouldn’t have anything to do with her local admirers. She remained aloof and ignored any companionship. She stated that they weren’t good enough for her to be associated with.

I can see her now. As a small boy, I would watch her drive down the road in her shining new buggy, drawn by a very handsome horse with its harness glowing in the sunlight. On her hands were driving gloves of soft, polished leather. She always wore a bright, beautiful bonnet that shaded her face. And, in the holder on the front right side of the buggy, Miss Sally carried her buggy whip. Rumor had it that Miss Sally had used her whip on a couple of smart alecks who failed to show her the respect she thought she was due.

As in all small communities, news traveled fast. The winds of gossip stated that Miss Sally had advertised for a husband in some type of magazine that specialized in this type of thing. She had listed her requirements. She had also listed her assets and what could be expected by an interested gentleman who measured up.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months; she received no answer from her advertisement. Many hours of gossip were spent discussing the pros and cons of this very unusual request. Then one day, the winds of gossip brought the news that Miss Sally had received a most-welcomed letter from a refined gentleman who resided somewhere in the Northeast. By the time this gossip had begun to lose momentum, another flash of hot news broke like a lightning bolt: Miss Sally was going to meet this prospective bridegroom at the nearest train station for an eyeball-to-eyeball introduction.

Rumor had it that the gentleman would arrive at a given hour. He and Miss Sally would visit and get acquainted until the next train departed. Gossip had calculated that this would give the two about 6-1/2 hours to come to know each other and to make plans if they decided to further the courtship.

On the afternoon before the train’s arrival, Miss Sally and her older sister secured a room in the only hotel in the town where the depot was located. At 8:10 a.m., the train from Birmingham chugged under the station canopy. Off stepped a tall, neatly dressed man who looked very much a gentleman from head to toe. He wore a tall hat and a light coat and carried a cane, even though he reportedly didn’t use it. He wore a neatly trimmed mustache; his chin sported a small, pointed goatee. The mail-order husband-to-be had arrived.

Miss Sally and the gentleman sat off the side of the covered platform of the train station. Her sister sat some distance away; gossip had it that she watched like a hawk. Six hours and a half passed; the conversation between the two continued. Only the sound of the northbound train caused the couple to break up their very private conversation.

Only then – just before he boarded the train – did the couple shake hands. The tall man bowed gracefully to Miss Sally, then tipped his hat. The train pulled away.

Weeks came and went; no word of the outcome of the meeting made the rounds. Then one morning an unfamiliar automobile was seen speeding down the country dirt road on only three wheels. The Star-make automobile was the only one manufactured that would operate on three wheels. Down the road came the prospective bridegroom with the right front wheel off his auto. He had had a blowout up the road aways. He had pulled the flat tire, wheel and all off the car and drove without it.

Not all stories have happy endings; this one does. Miss Sally and the tall stranger had a very large wedding. Word had it that the tall gentleman was quite wealthy.

Miss Sally and her mail-order groom enjoyed a good number of very happy years together. One was never seen without the other. The large Star automobile made many trips up and down the road with the happy couple snuggled closely in the front seat.

One cold January day, the mail-order husband departed this life. The cause of death was said to be severe chest congestion. Less than two months later, Miss Sally bid farewell to her sisters and joined the man who had filled her years with happiness known only to her.

Somewhere beyond the sunset, Miss Sally and her mail-order lover walk hand in hand into forever.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)