My aunt, Fleetie Mincey Thomas, lived at 2110 Hoitt Avenue in Knoxville, Tennessee for a great part of her life.
Fleetie was my dad’s sister. Our portion of the Mincey family was raised in the Thomas Holler (now listed as Black Fox Hollow Road) in Grainger County, very close to the Union County line. Dad was born in 1914, and Fleetie, the youngest child, was born in 1922.
It must have been difficult in the early 1900s to travel far and meet people from other places. Dad and Fleetie married brother and sister. Dad had nine children by his first wife, Dora May Thomas, who was sister to Fleetie’s husband Lester Berley (Jack) Thomas. Fleetie and Jack did not have children, or my older half-siblings would have had probably many double first cousins.
Fleetie’s husband died in 1968 when I was only three, so I don’t remember him. After his passing, Fleetie began to babysit from her home. On many Friday nights, when my half-siblings and their spouses would have date nights, Fleetie’s house would be filled to overflowing with their children, her nieces and nephews.
I loved to spend part of my summers with Fleetie. I couldn’t wait until school was out, when one of my half-sisters would come get me and take me to Fleetie’s.
I also loved to spend the night before Thanksgiving with Fleetie. On Thanksgiving Day, Fleetie and I would walk a block to Dad’s oldest sister Duskie Mincey Jones’ house at the dead end of Whittle Springs Road to eat dinner.
Duskie had Fleetie bake her corn bread. Duskie said it made her house too hot in the summer to bake bread. I never understood how it made Duskie’s house any hotter than Fleetie’s—neither had air conditioning.
Fleetie was so sweet. Looking back, she treated me like a little king. When it was time to eat, she would offer me everything in her house. She even carried it to me on a tray to the living room so that I could eat in front of the television. All meals were served with grape Kool-Aid.
The neighborhood was most interesting to me. Beulah Cole lived across the street diagonally to the left from Fleetie’s front porch. I met Beulah when Fleetie took me with her to Hoitt Avenue Baptist Church.
Fleetie had an eccentric neighbor, Virginia (Jinny) Hopson, who lived one block away on Brown Avenue. Fleetie told me one time that Jinny said she never washed her hair. When Fleetie let me go alone to visit Beulah, I told Beulah that Fleetie said that Jinny said she never washed her hair. When Fleetie found out I told Beulah that, she got quite upset. Somehow Fleeetie failed to let me know that Jinny was Beulah’s cousin by marriage.
Directly across the street from Fleetie lived a girl named Jolene Nash. There were those, my dad included, who thought Jolene was the reason I liked to visit Fleetie so much. I did find Jolene interesting, even if she was a girl, but that was as far as that went.
There was a day that Fleetie, her neighbor Ms. McMurray, my cousin Tracy, Jolene and I walked to Broadway Shopping Center. As we were walking down Cecil Avenue, we passed a house that was close to the road. The yard sloped sharply down from the house to a huge back yard. At the fence at the bottom of the back yard was a monstrous tree. Under the tree lay the remains of a twisted and bent sign post with sharp metal spikes.
Jolene asked me, “Do you see that tree?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see that post with those sharp pricks sticking out of it?”
“Yes.”
“The man that used to live there went crazy and hung hisself in that tree. He tied the rope too tight and it cut his head off when he jumped. His head went rolling across the yard. His wife took his head and put it in the freezer. For the rest of her life, she’d take his head out ever night, kiss it, and tell him she loved him.”
That gruesome story preyed on my mind. When it came time to go to bed, I looked above the bed to the single bulb that dangled from the electric cord. I went from seeing the man hanging in the tree to seeing myself hanging from that light cord. Fleetie had to give me Tylenol to calm me down enough to go to sleep.
Next door to Hoitt Avenue Baptist lived the Capps sisters. Infrequently they could be seen in their yards. All I could tell about them was they seemed fat and frightening. Most mysterious they were.
Fleetie did her best to foster my love of reading. She would occasionally buy me a book at a rummage sale. Once when I went to visit, she gave me a biography by Xaviera Hollander titled The Happy Hooker.
Some time later, Fleetie asked me how I liked the book. I thought it best not to let my dear aunt know exactly how much I learned while reading it. I asked, “Do you know what that book was about?” She didn’t, so I enlightened her. She said, “Lord! I wouldn’t have let you have that if I’d knowed that!”
I suppose reading that book was the closest I’ve come to the world of prostitution. Interestingly, on the opposite side of Hoitt Avenue Baptist from the Capps residence, separated from the church property by Whittle Springs Road, was a two-story building. I remember it being painted an ugly shade of green. This was supposedly once a “business” (rooming house) operated by none other than the infamous Knoxville madam Hazel Davidson.
Hazel was seemingly a most interesting character. It is definitely worth a look on Google to see some of the things written about her. One article related that Hazel was in the process of writing a book, but it seems to have never been published. One (or possibly the same) article described a Sunday dinner at Hazel’s of fried chicken, deviled (no pun intended) eggs, and spiritous (not necessarily “spiritual”)drink. Also mentioned was that Hazel once listed Cas Walker as one of her intended honorary pall bearers.
My aunt Fleetie made no bones about what went on in Hazel’s House.
Fleetie said to me once on the phone, “Looks like that church would get together and run that bunch of w----s out of there.”
I told Fleetie that the church had best let those “w----s” alone or they might burn that church down.

ANSWER TO QUESTION OF THE WEEK # 96
Why do people get heavier as they get older? (ANSWER: We all get heavier as we get older, because there's a lot more information in our heads. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

QUESTION OF THE WEEK # 97
How do you know you’re over fifty? (See the next “Mincey’s Musings” in historicunioncounty.com for the answer.)

EMAIL THOUGHTS

"Old age is when you resent the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated because there are fewer articles to read." – George Burns

"Middle age is when you’re sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings, and you hope it isn’t for you." - Ogden Nash

"All men are the same age." - Dorothy Parker

BOB HOPE ON TURNING 70 - "I still chase women, but only downhill."

A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.

FROM THE HOLLYWOOD SQUARES:
Q. Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older?
A. Charley Weaver: My sense of decency.