The Green Uniform

I wish I could adequately describe that green.  It was a green that I have never seen since.  Think of a grass green but lighter and brighter.  Now add a boat load of starch to that green.  That’s it!  That’s the green that I saw every work day from the time I was born until I was 12 years old. 

According to some limited sources, 1901 is the year Standard Knitting Mills was opened by textile king and a former 1890’s mayor of Knoxville, Tennessee, H. Bryan Branner.  At the time of its opening in the Parkridge community of Knoxville, the small plant employed about 50 people.  By the 1930’s “Standard” was the largest textile and knitting mill in Knoxville, eventually growing into a sprawling complex with close to 4,000 employees. In time Standard would produce over one million garments a week and inspired Knoxville’s title as “Underwear Capital of the World.”

I am not sure the year my mom started working at Standard.  I think she went straight to work there from high school graduation, but I could be wrong.  Regardless, it had to be in the late 1940’s when she was only 18 to 20 years old.  As time would prove true, she was only one of 4 or 5 of her siblings that would work at Standard, some for a much longer period of time than Mom.

Since I didn’t work there, I cannot give you a firsthand account of what of what it was like.  But I do have an impression, based on what I heard from my mom and others, of what the environment was like and some of the things that went on there.

First of all, working at Standard meant you had to wear that green uniform.  Actually, I should say the women had to wear the uniform.  I think the men were allowed to wear whatever they wanted.  The uniform was a cotton dress with a matching tie belt.  It was a pull on with a V-neckline trimmed with a thick white collar.  The short sleeves were cuffed.  Making the uniform free of winkles was not a simple feat since they were made of 100% cotton.  There were no “polyester blends” in those days.  But, thank goodness for starch.   The starching of clothes was a common practice up to the last quarter of the 20^th century.  According to Wikipedia, aside from the smooth, crisp edges it gave to clothes, starch served a practical purpose too.  Dirt and sweat from a person’s neck and wrists would stick to the starch rather than to the fibers of the clothing, and would easily wash away along with the starch.  After each laundering, the starch would be reapplied.

Laundry day at our house, which was usually Saturday, was a major event.  Since Mom did not have a clothes dryer, she had to hang the freshly washed wet clothes on a “clothes line” in the back yard.  Yes, I mean every stich of whatever we had worn during the week was hung on that line for the whole world to see, except for the uniforms.  Those were laid to the side until starch could be dissolved in HOT water.  Mom would then take the uniform and submerse it in the scalding starch water by using a spoon or something.  From there the uniform was lifted out of the starch water with the utensil and when cool enough, Mom would roll it up in a neat little bundle to await its fate on the ironing board.  Once Mom got through ironing the uniform it was wrinkle free, had two straight pleats on either side in the back, and it looked as though it could stand on its own.

Just as there was skill involved in preparing the garment for wear, there was also skill to wearing it.  You didn’t just sit down in the uniform.  You had to learn how to ease into a seat while holding the pleats on either side to avoid wrinkles.  I don’t know if this was done in more of an effort to maintain a neat looking dress, or if it was done in order to ensure it could be worn more than once.  Whatever the reason was, that’s what they did.

Back in the 50’s, carpooling had not even been thought of.  And, like nearly every other family in those days we only had one car.  Besides, Mom was one of many women from that generation who never drove, not legally any way.  So, Mom had a “ride” to and from work.  She and three or four other Standard employees paid for someone to drive them to work.  I can see Mom now, standing at the front door waiting for her ride.  I also remember during those days how I hated for Mom to go to work.  I distinctly remember thinking that whoever said she had to work was just wrong!

Once Mom got to work, she had to walk through a tall iron gate.  I am almost positive there was a security guard station there.  I assume the guard was there to prevent employees from taking items from the mill.

Since I never went inside, I can only relay what I have been told as far as what it was like inside the plant.  There was no air conditioning, just big fans.  It had to have gotten up to over 100 degrees in there during the hot summer months.  I assume Mom worked in a large room like the one shown in this picture. 

She may even be in this picture as it was made in 1962.  In looking closely at the photo I noticed the straight wooden chairs they sat in all day long, 5 days a week.  I never heard Mom complain about the chairs, but they had to have been so uncomfortable.

On Mom’s “floor” they sewed elastic bands on men’s underwear.  No, I am not kidding you.  That’s what my mom did for over a decade.  Her direct supervisor was her “floor lady”.  Best I remember Mom liked hers. 

Mom didn’t get paid a salary or even by the hour.  She worked “production”.  The way I understood it, her pay was based on how many bands she managed to sew on the underwear during her shift.  It was not looked kindly upon if she did not “meet production”, a certain number sewn before her pay was increased per band.  Mom almost always met production, thus a testament to her work ethic and determination to do the best job possible.

You could always find little brown paper bags, or pokes, at our house.  Instead of a lunch box, Mom used the bags to pack her lunch in to take to work.  I don’t know how long their lunch breaks were, but they ate at their work stations. 

One of my most favorite memories as a child was occasionally going with my dad and brother to pick up Mom at work.  I remember there was a little store across the street from the Standard where we would await on the loud steam whistle to blow at 3:30 p.m. signifying the end of one shift and beginning of another.  Once the whistle blew we knew in just a few minutes Mom would be walking down between two buildings that was a joined by the black iron gate.  Her uniform would be only one in a sea of green. 

At one time Mom’s check from the Standard Knitting Mills was our family’s only income.  Dad had answered the call to preach and to prepare himself for the ministry he enrolled in college and quit his job driving a truck for Canada Dry.  His first church didn’t pay enough to meet Daddy’s college expenses and support the family as well.  So, Mom continued working at the Standard until I was in the 6^th grade.  At that time Dad was pastoring his second church and he had earned his bachelor’s degree. Mom had kept the family financially afloat while he was in college.

Yes, the Standard played a significant role in my family’s life, the lives of many of my extended family members, and the lives of many other Knoxvillians.  The buildings which housed the once thriving business now stand empty, having been abandoned around 2004.  There has been talk that the current owner of the property is interested in renovating, but last time I was by there all I saw was crumbling unoccupied buildings with the occasional broken window.

I wish I had one of Mom’s old green uniforms.  I am sure, however, that she got rid of them as soon as possible after she became a stay at home mom.  But, those green uniforms signified the lives of some very strong, hardworking women who were dedicated to providing for their families whom they loved very much.  They were from a generation of women who truly had to work to put food on the table.  A generation, the likes of which, will never be seen again.