George Singleton wrote that 'hog-killing time' was a community event

George Buster Singleton

(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 “Hog-killing time was a community event” was originally published in the March 2, 1989 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

I know that there are a few of you out there among my readers who are old enough and lived far back enough in the country to remember hog-killing time.

Those of you who are unfortunate to have not taken part in the annual winter’s hog killing, or the preparation of the family’s yearly supply of meat, have missed a great event.

The dog of the hog killing started out bright and early. The coldest days were always the best. Fires were started at daybreak around two extra-large iron pots that were full of water. Hot water was the most essential part of the meal preparation. Plenty of hot water was a must.

A job for everyone

The slaughter of the fattened hogs were done out of sight of everyone except the menfolks. Then the slain hogs were brought up and dipped in the scalding hot water so as to remove the hair from the skins. This was a job for everyone present, even the smallest could participate.

My father and one or two older men possessed the knowledge of the ways that the meat was to be cut up and processed. They also knew how it should be stored so as not to spoil in the months ahead. We are talking about a time when one didn’t run to the deep freezer and place the meat there for safekeeping.

The meat had to be placed in several large barrels, after being rubbed with salt. As each layer of meat was placed in the barrel, a light covering of salt was sprinkled over that layer so that another layer of meat could be put on top of that.

The large, juicy hams and the front shoulders of the slaughtered hogs were prepared for smoking. This meant that the selected pieces were tied with long blade of bear grass and hung up in the smokehouse. Once all the meat had to be hung up and was ready for smoking, a small fire, made of selected pieces of hickory smoke, was started right in the middle of the smokehouse. This fire was kept burning for several days until the meat, subject to my father’s inspections, was cured enough so as not to spoil.

Stories around the fires

During this special day, many stories were told around the fires under the huge iron posts. A small boy of 10 could only stand around, open-mouthed and absorb the tall tales that abounded there around the fires.

The highlight of the day was the cooking of select pieces of meat and everyone eating and enjoying the goodies that had been brought over for the event. Anyone who left hungry did so of his own choosing. There was always plenty of food.

Before each family left for home, those who had not had a hog processed that day were given enough meat to last them for several meals.

The day ended when the yarns and tall tales began to wind down. The date was passed around to everyone when the next hog killing would take place and the whereabouts. And a small boy – whose head was full of tales that covered a time span beginning long before the Civil War took place and including the then-great World War (World War I) – was sent to bed weary and tired.

Beauty and love

Many of these tall tales have survived the years and are forever fresh in this writer’s memory. And the beauty and the love that abounded around the old home place will always be cherished, for now and always.

And too, the memory of a tall, dark-haired woman, most beautiful even in a simple gingham dress, and a slender, gentle man, who valued their family’s love above life itself, will never fade.

Truly, those of you who have never witnessed a gathering such as a community hog killing, have missed one of the great highlights of childhood and are poorer for it.

I had a father who told me
Sagas of rogues who scoured the seas
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
“Blackbeards” hid in the ships’ holds beneath.

You may have tangible wealth untold,
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be –
Family and friends who worshiped me…

(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, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, 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.)