"Mule"

During the early twentieth century, Southern families were large. There was no Dish Network to entertain folks after the children went to bed. Therefore, making more children was probably the "funnest" way to spend the shank of an evening for most married couples.

This writer's extended family, on his father's side, sported five uncles and three aunts. Each was unique in their own way, and left many enduring memories for their loved ones. And, each of these children distinguished themselves in life in significant and impressive ways.

Uncle Alan Decker worked for the Southern Railroad, as did many of this writer's kin. He was the personal engineer for President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. On many occasions, Uncle Alan ferried the President and Mrs. Roosevelt between Washington, D.C., and the, "Little White House," in Warm Springs, Georgia. At President Roosevelt's passing, he was honored to be the engineer on the presidential "Death Ride" from Georgia to Washington.

Aunt Katie Decker was heavily involved in Georgia politics as an adult. She held high positions in the election campaigns of gubernatorial candidates such as Beau Callaway and Lester Maddox.  

Aunt Octavia Decker's children would one day build and operate the well-known and highly popular  Dixie Speedway in Woodstock, Georgia.

And, this writer's father, Ernest Decker, serving as a machine gunner in the United States Marine Corps, was decorated for distinguished combat service on Guadalcanal and Peleliu during World War II.

And then there was Uncle Hubert.

In his late teens and early twenties, Uncle Hubert, for the love of a great woman, walked away from a contract in professional baseball. Uncle Hubert was a great pitcher and outfielder in semi-pro ball, and was heavily scouted by several professional teams. The extended travel, and long periods of time away from the woman he loved, led him to refuse the contract. He often said that he never regretted choosing true love over sports.

When Uncle Hubert was a young lad, he was, physically, the strongest of the Decker boys. He could plow a mule longer than any of the rest, and sometimes even pull the plow himself whenever the real mule got down. This was one of the reasons why he became known around the Riverside community as, "Mule Decker."

There were others.

It was true that Uncle Hubert could hoe weeds in the sweltering Georgia sun long after everyone else around him had wilted. He could pitch more hay, pull more corn, dig more potatoes, carry more watermelons in his arms, and chop more firewood than any of his five other brothers. As "field hands" went, Uncle Hubert was "the boss."

But, as previously mentioned, his physical prowess was only one of the reasons for his nickname.

The other was his stubborn, hard-headed, and obstinate personality. No one outdid "Mule" in anything, especially when it came to running his mouth. His parents often said that they thought the doctor who delivered him must have vaccinated him with a Victrola needle. Uncle Hubert talked more, and at a more boisterous volume, than anyone. He could turn even the most casual conversation into a passionately hot debate - even when the topic was of the most benign nature. He eventually developed a widespread reputation for, "arguing the horns off a Billy goat."

Hubert Decker was no dummy. But, neither was he an academician. His report card was never the stuff of Magna Cum Laude. He much preferred plowing and splitting wood to homework and cracking books. Many times, he would deliberately stay home from school if some chore or major farm-related task was pressing.

Uncle Hubert was not with his siblings on their daily walk to Bolton School on one particular Fall morning in the late 1920's.

During the 1920's and 30's, most children walked to school. There were no school buses, and no such thing as, "mom's taxi service." Riverside students attending Bolton Elementary School walked down Bolton Road and through the streets of the Bolton community as they made their way each morning. Their single-file procession, done in a most orderly fashion, snaked down the left side of Bolton Road as they walked facing traffic.

Children from many communities went to the same school together in those days. Along with the many children from Riverside who attended Bolton School, there were also the "renegade" children from the wrong side of Hollywood Road.  They walked the same route to school as their Riverside classmates, but usually along the opposite side of the road. Known as "heathern" children, these students regularly taunted the Riverside kids on the other side. This was often the cause of trouble on the daily walk to and from school.

One morning, one of these "riff-raff" boys ventured across Bolton Road and began "hitting" on Katie Decker, the youngest female sibling of the family. This rather strapping boy began trash-talking Aunt Katie, and eventually tried did his best to run his hands over her developing female body. Aunt Katie responded decisively. Having grown up in a household with six brothers, she knew the exact spot on a male's lower extremity to aim her knee. The boy bent double in agony, managing to stay erect just long enough to spit in Katie's face and on her dress. As he staggered away, this troublemaker shouted some of the most vulgar, profane things at Aunt Katie that any male could say to a female.

Later that evening, Hubert Decker heard all about the attack on his sister. Normally, Hubert would have been the one to launch into a diatribe of insults and threats. This time, however, he said very little. Inwardly, he vowed to accompany his siblings to school the very next morning. Before the sun came up the next day, as he fed the chickens and the livestock, Uncle Hubert hid a plow line in his bib overhauls.

He had a plan for his sister's attacker.

Sure enough, the boy who had attacked his sister showed up that morning walking to school and running his mouth. Uncle Hubert crossed over to the other side this time. He grabbed the boy, pulled him across one of the yards along Bolton Road, tied him to a Hickory tree with the plow line, and proceeded to pummel him. First, with his fists, then with any rocks that he could find, and finally with his size thirteen farming boots. Uncle Hubert did not murder the boy, but he did leave him slumped in a bloody heap by the Hickory tree. It was, reportedly, a brutal thing to watch.

That evening, when Grandaddy Whitfield Decker came home from his three-day-per-week job as a Fulton County Deputy Sheriff, as soon as he pulled up in the yard, Grandma Georgia shared with him the details of what Hubert had done. Whitfield Decker taught all his children to defend themselves and never to cowardly back down if someone else started a fight. But, he also taught them to never start a fight, or engage in excessive brutality in any way if they had already gotten the best of an opponent. His assessment of Hubert's behavior that day was that his son had crossed the line, and had behaved himself in far too extreme a manner in paying the boy back.

Grandaddy Whitfield walked calmly out to his Ford A-Model truck and retrieved a pair of leg and hand shackles commonly used to transport prisoners. These "irons" were commonly reserved for hardened criminals who had been sentenced to roadside labor on the county's "Chain Gangs." The twin shackles were bound in the center by a steel sleeve welded to both chains. The leg portion was made to a specific length designed to restrict the prisoner's ability to stand upright and walk. This forced the prisoner to stay bent in a "hunched over" position, and to walk with only a shuffling of the feet. This would make a running escape difficult, if not impossible.

With shackles in hand, Grandaddy Whitfield went out to barn to find his son. In just a little while, witnesses said that Grandaddy came back across the field - with "Mule" stumbling along behind. Leading him up to the front porch, Grandaddy chained Uncle Hubert to the front porch swing, and made him sit down.

He then began a most painful, "hell fire and brimstone," lecture.

"If you're going to act like an animal, and a convict, and a heathern," he sternly proclaimed, "then we're going to treat you like one."

For several minutes, Uncle Hubert bore the verbal wrath of his father. The final declaration of this tongue lashing brought, perhaps, the greatest punishment of all. Uncle Hubert would be forced to remain on the porch, chained to the swing, while the rest of the family ate supper. If there was anything left at the end of the meal, Hubert would then be led into the house to sit alone. He would be chained to the table, and allowed to have only the scraps from each person's plate.

Grandaddy might as well have hung him upside down and naked from the giant oak tree in the front yard. It would have been far more merciful.

Uncle Hubert's baby brother, Ernest, was two years younger than him. Being the youngest two offspring in the family, they did many things together. However, Hubert always knew his place in the family pecking order. He fully understood that the "baby of the family" usually received preferential treatment. This angered and frustrated him on many occasions as he and Ernest grew up together.

During supper that night, Ernest could not get his mind off Hubert. He kept turning around in his chair at the dinner table, and stretching his body and neck in an attempt to see his brother - still chained to the swing. His mother kept reminding him to turn around and eat his supper, or else he might find himself out there with Hubert.

During the course of the meal, Ernest asked if he could be excused to go to the outhouse. Upon receiving permission, he bolted straight out the front door. As he walked a wide path around the front of the house, he goaded his big brother. "Jail Bird, Jail Bird, Hubert is a Jail Bird!" he chanted. He squawked like a crow, and flapped his arms as though they were a bird's wings.

Hubert angrily cursed his little brother, and vowed that Ernest would be sorry when the shackles finally came off.

The family eventually finished their meal, and Grandaddy Whitfield came out to get Hubert. Trailing right behind him was Ernest, pleading, "Can I lead him in, Daddy?...Can I lead him in?" Grandaddy Whitfield agreed that this would be a grand idea. The humiliation of having his worrisome little brother lead him to the supper table would certainly add to Hubert's punishment. Grandaddy stayed close by to ensure that Hubert did not try to retaliate.

To add insult to injury, with the chains making it difficult for Hubert to feed himself, Ernest was given the honors. He snickered and whispered taunts at his big brother with every bite he fed him during that bitter meal.

When the shackles finally did come off, Hubert was warned that if any harm came to Ernest in any way, he (Hubert) would be wearing the shackles again, and perhaps for a much longer time.

"Mule" Decker passed away in February of 1991, on the night that American military forces began the assault on Iraq and Kuwait - marking the beginning of Desert Storm. Cancer had mercilessly sucked the life out of his once muscular body.

Uncle Hubert told many stories during his life, and many jokes. He won his share of fights, and knew the sweetness of financial success. And, he never forgot the humiliation of an evening when his worrisome little brother led him around the family home in a criminal's shackles.

This writer is indebted to Uncle Hubert for the many memories he left behind during his time on this earth.

If there are to be any "mules" in heaven, it is surely hoped that this one is among that number.


"Well I'll Be John Brown"

- David Decker
  February 18, 2011