ANNIE DUKES

These are personal letters and unlike many of the correspondents of Seely, the letters of Annie Dukes trace not a history of business dealing, commerce, or political posturing, but reveal two very strong personalities and serve to describe the life of a working woman during the opening years of the twentieth century and during the hard years of WWI. For this reason, this correspondence is important to women's studies and to the accounts of women's lives during the difficult years of the World War I and later the Great Depression. Annie's story is not unlike the struggle many women experienced during the first  years of the twentieth-century leading up to emancipation and the years following the passage of the 19th Amendment. It also reflects the continuing struggle women have to balance the needs of family with the desire for a career.  

The letters also unveil a soft side of Fred Seely and chronicle his high dependence on the capable people he hired to assist him in managing his multiple interests. His perfectionism, loyalty, humor, desperation, and sadness may all be perceived in these series of letters. 

"Many times during these two past "hard times: years, I've been on the point of writing to you for a  job, but I've always been cowardly about following the old adage "Ventures make merchants." Rather, I'm inclined to stay in a rut, fearing that an attempt to leap out would thrust me further down instead of planting me on higher ground. 

The building business has been at zero for two years. When announcement of a "building permit: is made contractors, masons, carpenters, etc. swarm about it like hungry wolves. Mr. Dukes has spent enough money, time and gasoline looking for work, to have fed the family a year and all to no avail -- each day we get poorer and shabbier. 

...Julia, graduated from High School last Spring,  is the Whip and Lash that drives us to desperation....Julia is so young and so ignorant of the meaning of Life and its battles that I could not think of letting her get out from under my wing, unless I could put her under the chaperonage of a trusted friend .... I do wish she could have the privilege of working directly under your supervision. Every day, I recall with joy and gratitude the training it was my good fortune to receive under your tutelage. I value it above anything I learned "off at school."

I have your letter and have read it carefully. 

To tell you that I can't do a thing hurts me very much, but conditions couldn't be much worse than they are here. And I simply could not be a party to having the little girl come to Asheville with things as they are. I believe the Depression is nearly over, but we all have had to fight our way thru it. 

We are glad to hear from you, and I had Miss Ruth read your letter so that she would know how you are getting along. 

We all send our love and beg to remain...

This last letter, just three years before Fred Seely's death, is a poignant closure to a long-lasting relationship and one marked by its deep mutual respect. 

HW

"Dear Miss Annie:
You know that there never was anybody who knew as much about files and things of that kind as you do.

You left our files in perfect condition, but in the years since they have gotten in rather unsatisfactory shape. They are running in several directions, and I have tried to get them straightened out, but have bee too busy to give the personal attention. 

I know, of course, that you have a lot of duties on hand, but I only want to tell you for future reference that if there ever comes a time this Fall, or any other time, that you can be away from home and you want to come to Asheville and have a visit, there will be about $25.00 a week waiting for you if you will spend a few weeks straightening us up once more.

We are getting along nicely, and have more business than we have reason to expect. The Industries has added quite a lot to our work, but they are running very satisfactorily. We now have ten girls in the office, but I am frank to say that we haven't found any that could compare with the old standbys -- but we won't mention any names just now. Give our kindest regards to your mother and Mr. Dukes and we all send lots of love and good wishes. 

Very sincerely yours, "

And though, as I read it I knew that accepting  the kind and generous offer it contained was entirely out of the question, I could not bear even  to myself, that I must refuse. That is why I have delayed answering these two days --- just dreading to say "No."

I want you always to know that it is one of the greatest joys of my life to work for you. I owe so much to you for what you have taught me of business methods that I'd love to come and work for you "without money and without price," if I were able. 

Maybe some day, when the war is over and Baby Julia is a college girl, I can come. But now, I have my hands full, trying to fill my own place and partly take the place of my youngest brother who was called to the training camp two months ago. Mamma Julia and I feel very desolate and helpless here with no one to depend upon but our cook, a very ancient and inefficient creature. 

Mr. Dukes has given up his work in Alabama City and come up to Sheffield so as to be near enough to spend the weekends with us. That helps greatly. But still, as I climb into the corn-crib each week to shuck and shell the corn that is to be made into our weekly portion of meal the old servant carrying it to mill in Julia's little wagon. I feel something of what the French women left manless, must feel as they take their places in shop and field. 

Please tell little Lucy and Miss Schaidt, if she is still there, that is why I haven't long ago answered their fin, interesting letters --- too busy trying to fill a man's place and my own, too. 

I'm afraid the files have grown past me so I couldn't cope with them now, but I'm sure our old friend, Miss Bertha Schaidt, can. She, like Lucy, could always do well anything to which she was set. Here's hoping she may take them for you and have them in beautiful order, soon.

My love to everybody. I guess "the children" are not "children" any more now. Wish I could see Fred Jr.

With sincere interest in all the affairs of the Inn and its "makers" I am 

Yours sincerely, 

Annie R. Dukes"

"Dear Mr. Seely, 
Your letter of the 19th [inst?] was a great and joyful surprise to me. It had been so long since I had heard a word from the loved Asheville friends and scenes. I felt with sorrow and humiliation that I was getting so insignificant I was fading out of your lives forever. 

All that keeps me from asserting positively that I will be there just as soon as I can get the children and myself "clothed and in our right minds," for the trip, is the fear that I'm too dull or rusty to be worth such a munificent sum. 

That, and sudden sickness or death in the family. Mamma's health is at a low ebb. She has a cancer that has become very virulent. But she is taking the radium treatment and is the busiest, gamest lady of seventy eight that you ever heard of. If I had inherited half her fortitude and endurance I might feel hopeful that I could do enough work to be worth part of the vast amount you offered (after dealing in milk and butter money for years, anything over a dollar looks like a tremendous sum to me).

Mamma insists that she can get along very well for a few weeks without me. But, the thought of leaving her even for a few days makes me sad. 

Mr. Dukes is in Birmingham at present and expects to be there all fall and winter unless something unusual occurs. I sent your letter on the next mail to him and of course I haven't heard from him yet, but he usually agrees with my decisions. 

My two little encumbrances Julia, aged six, and W.F., Jr. (Billie) aged nearly three, are very troublesome to me (having lived a peaceful old maid so long, I find it hard even after six years of them to adjust myself to children). But I presume I'd have no difficulty finding a reliable woman who could take care of them for me, while I untangled your files. I know that is what you wish me to do. I often think of them and wonder how great the accumulation is by this time. 

Where is "Little Lucy"? She is the only one of my correspondents to whom I've written twice since receiving a ghost of a letter from her. I began to fear she had married and "passed away" too. 

This seems rather an incoherent letter. But I hope you gather from it that I long with all my heart to come back and see all of you again and live in that lovely, lovely world and do the work I dearly love to do, but I tremble at the thought of leaving mamma so feeble. 

I was about to inquire of your children and remembered with a pang, that the passing years have made young ladies of Gertrude and Louise, and even John and [..?..] have put away childish things. But little Fred, Jr., whom I've never seen must be about the size [..?] was when I first saw him. My love to dear Mrs. Seely, a chastising to Little Lucy and kind regards to all my old fellow laborers not excepting the chief among them, yourself. 

Yours sincerely, 
Annie R. Dukes"

"Dear Miss Annie: 
It is very pleasant to have your letter of the twenty first, after so long a time! I had about given up hearing from you. 

I am very sorry to know that your Mother is so ill, but I have no fears o f your ever losing the skill you always exhibited. 

Of course, your letter leaves the entire matter in an indefinite state, but if you should find your Mother improved sufficiently to do without you, couldn't you come on and stay with us for at least a month or six weeks: And, if you couldn't leave and the worst should come, could you come up then, and stay with us? We sincerely trust that she will survive her illness, but you must not expect too much. 

I am very serious about having you come and help us. You were with me so long and I always have felt that you knew more about files than any person I had ever seen, and I shall never feel quite happy until you have come and remained with us long enough to bring us up-to-date. 

You inquire about Miss Lucy, but she has been away from us about three months now. I do not know whether she is on another one of her "marrying" trips, but I think she is going to Cuba to stay with her Sister. You see, you all get away from me like a chicken that has hatched ducks, and you leave me here to work along without you, but you are never forgotten, and the wonderful things you have done in the past will always be appreciated. 

We all send our kindest regards, and I beg to remain 

Very sincerely yours, 
President."

What I really would like to have, would be for you to spend a month with us, and if you do it I will pay you $40. per week. I also have some clay tile setting that Mr. Dukes could do, but if he is busy elsewhere, could you come and bring the children and have a visit with us once more? I will pay your railroad expenses in addition to this, to Asheville and return. I do not know how many children you have now, but I hope they are all well, and that we will have the pleasure of seeing you again. 

Very sincerely yours,
President "

Dear Mr. Seely: 
Since I wrote you on the 21st, mamma has grown rapidly worse. She had to take her bed yesterday. I am beginning to have serious fears that the disease has gone beyond the healing power of even radium. I could not think of leaving her even for a few days. 

Some day I want to come back and revel in the old work, if you haven't found some one who does it better. . But these precious days tha my beloved mother is spared to me I want to spend with her. 

Julia and Billie are sadly disappointed that we are not going to make the trip. Julia was bitten by a mad dog last January and I had to rush her to Montgomery and spend three weeks with her there having her treated at the Pasteur Institute. Just before your letter came, she was wishing another mad dog would bite her, so we could take another nice trip. But your invitation suited far better. 

W.F. Dukes, who is suffering with the intense heat of Birmingham was anxious to take the trip too. 

I don't know just what the near future will bring and am too sad to try to think into it, now. 

With sincere good wishes, I am 

Very sorrowfully yours, 
Annie Rankin Dukes

"Dear Miss Annie: 
I have just returned home and find your letter of the 26th. Mine of the same day must have reached you by this time, and explained that I do not look for you until everything is convenient. I wouldn't have you leave you Mother at this time for anything, and as soon as you think there is an opportunity, I want you to let me know at once. 

There is a great deal here you could do, and I do not know how much I would give if I could only find some one in this world who could be something near what you were to us. 

We all send our love, and I beg to remain 

Very sincerely yours, 
President"

Dear Mr. Seely: 
The Bearers of this are two of my best beloved nieces. They have heard me speak in such glowing terms of you the Inn and all that pertains there to that they thirst to see and know for themselves these wonders you have wrought. 

I hope you are there and not so harassed with committee meetings and agents and politicians as you were in Inn building days, so that you may spare a few moments to them. 

I've been wishing to write you a little account of myself and my mother's miraculous cure by radium, but have been so busy cooking and nursing and house-keeping that I don't know how or when to write. 

These children, Katherine Peebles and Elizabeth Bradley will tell you all there is to tell. 

Sincerely, 
Annie Rankin Dukes"

"Dear 'Miss Annie':
You have no idea what a pleasure it was to see the two girls who have just been here with you letter. 

I told them just as nearly as I could what we thought of you and in a way it seemed like having a visit from you to have them tell me about you. 

We have never quite gotten accustomed to getting along without you and I do not believe we ever will. There never was anyone who did things as nearly right as you did, and it is the strangest thing that less than thirty minutes before the girls came, Mr. Goodwin who is here attending a Convention, asked about you and wanted to know if you were still here. 

He is doing fine. He is the Head of the Georgian for Mr. Hearst; is married and has two little girls. 

Please write once in a while, and let me know how you are getting along, and if you ever have an opportunity to come this way, don't forget how anxious we are to see you. '

We send lots of love, and good wishes, and I beg to remain, as ever 

Sincerely yours, 
President

P.S. Miss Lucy got home about two weeks ago, after being away a year. She is just the same as ever. In fact, I think the rest did her good. She seems quiet and quite well. 

She does not seem to be inclined to take up her old work and I do not know just what she is going to do, but I am sure she would like to hear from you. 

Very sincerely yours, 
President"

"Dear 'Miss Annie':

I happened to be out when your niece Miss Bradley came by with your note. I regret it very much and wish I could have seen her. Of course nothing would give us quite the satisfaction as seeing the original but I don't suppose you will ever get over to Asheville again. Please let me know though if you ever should be coming this way. 

We are all about the same and you would find almost the same old crowd here.

I hope you are well and with lots of love and good wishes beg to remain, 

Very truly yours, 
President"

"Mr. Seely, 
My Aunt, Mrs. W.F. Dukes wishes me to bear you a greeting as I am "passing thru" Grove Park Inn, this afternoon. If you have time to receive the greeting, I shall be happy to deliver it. 

Miss Amanda Bradley
(Belle Mina, Ala)"

"Dear Mr. Seely: 
Two months ago, when I received your letter regretting that you missed seeing my niece, I thought I'd surely reply within the week and tell you how glad I always am to hear from you. But I live a season or two behind and can't seem to catch up. 

Life whirls me so rapidly through the seasons and the years that I am dazed by the "undone things" I pass along the way. 

I'm sorry Amanda didn't get to see you. I'm sorry too, that you didn't see her. "If I do say it as shouldn't" she is an extremely interesting and vivacious person. Quite different from her sister who called on you a year or two ago, who is still [tingued ?] and deep yet the two are equally dear to my heart but to my own children they hold the nearest place in my affection. Amanda is a great lover of the esthetic and the beautiful. She was perfectly enraptured with Grove Park Inn.

Two others of my fellow townsmen visited Asheville the past summer. I felt "quite thrilled" as Little Lucy used to say, to hear them speak in awe- stricken tones of "Seely Castle." 

When my little daughter grows large enough to assume some of my home responsibilities, I'm going to ship off to Asheville again for a season. I was so pleased to have you say that I'd find the same old crowd. It and all its members, and its memories are so dear to me. 

Lucy's absence would make a sad blank for me. I haven't heard from her often since her marriage. 

I forget that a busy man who accomplishes so much in the world hasn't time to read such long letters. 

Even my own husband complains of my long letters. He says he would so much prefer my writing him four pages every day to my writing fourteen, twice a week. He is helping build a college for the Christian Church near Lexington, Ky. He is delighted with that "Blue Grass Region," We've made quite a Southerner of him. 

With deeply reverential feelings toward the beauty and grandeur of my old time "stomping grounds" and with a heart full of love to all the old friends and "co-toilers" I am, 

Sincerely yours, 
Annie Rankin Dukes

Dear Mr. Seely:
Many times during these two past "hard times" years, I've been on the point of writing to you for a job, but I've always been cowardly about following the old adage. "Ventures make merchants." Rather, I'm inclined to stay in a rut, fearing that an attempt to leap out would thrust me further down instead of planting me on higher ground. 

The building business has been at zero for two years. When announcement of a "building permit" is made contractors, masons, carpenters all swarm about it like hungery wolves. W.F. Dukes has spent enough money, time and gasoline looking for work to have fed the family a year, and all to no avail, each day we get poorer and shabbier. 

If there were only we two old folks we would bend to the storm and live quietly and humbly at home with the garden, chickens, cows and pigs. Even our little son, who is entering Senior High, is as merciful in his demands for books, laboratory and gymnasium fees , etc. as circumstances permit. 

But Julia, graduated from High School last Spring, is the Whip and Lash that drives us to desperation. She also had a course in stenography and typing, and with the sanguiness of Youth expected to "get a job" the next week, and be able to pay her own board, by her own clothes and be forever free of the hum-drum life of Belle Mina. 

But, appeals to my brothers in Atlanta my nephew in Washington, cousins in Chicago, Mr. Duke's brothers in Philadelphia and [Newton?] have all met with the same response -- each place has its own army of un-employed that must be taken care of first. 

Next to our own family, I know you would do more to help get her a "job" than any one else, and I'm sure you have the widest field at your command. (Biltmore Industries sounds like Billions to me.)

Julia is so young and so ignorant of the meaning of Life and its battles that I could not think of letting her get out from under my wing, unless I could pur her under the chaperonage of a trusted friend. Dear Lucy Scott suggested that I send Julia to her mother at Asheville. That was problem solved. Mrs. Scott is a lovely little woman and brought up some fine girls of her own. 

It would mean more to me than silver and gold to have my child placed where there would be opportunity to climb. She is very ambitious and eager to work. Further that that, I do not know. I don't think she inherited her mother's fondness for "filing". But I do wish she could have the privilege of working directly under your supervision. Every day, I recall with joy and gratitude the training it was my good fortune to receive under you tutelage. I value it above anything I learned "off at school."

Please remember me with love to Mrs. Seely. I presume all you children are "men of their own" these days and you and Mrs. Seely have the home alone. How fast they grow up and fly away and leave us!

With profoundly grateful remembrance of the happy days in your employ, I am 

Yours sincerely, 
Annie Rankin Dukes"

Dear Miss Annie:
I have your letter and have read it carefully. 

To have to tell you that I can't do a thing hurts me very much, but conditions couldn't be much worse than they are here. And I simply could not be a party to having the little girl come to Asheville with things as they are. I believe the depression is nearly over, but we all have had to fight our way thru it. 

We are glad to hear from you, and I had Miss Ruth read your letter so that she would know how you are getting along. 

We all send our love and beg to remain

Very sincerely yours, "

Letter from Annie Rankin Dukes, Junaluska, N.C. box 215,  to Fred Seely, Asheville, N.C.

My Dear Friends, 

Here I am once again, after the lapse of half -- no, a quarter of a century, in the 'Land of the Sky' Bishops to right of me, bishops to left of me, I'm taking a course in Sociology under Dr. Kinchelov of the Chicago Theological Seminary. I was sent here expenses pre-paid by the First Methodist Church in Anniston, Ala.

After Mr. Dukes' death last summer, living alone at the old home was too sad and lonesome and hard, so I moved down to live with Billy at Anniston where he had accepted a position with the Coca-Cola Co. right after his graduation from Emory a few months before Daddy's death. 

The friends from Anniston who brought me up in their car promise to take me up to Asheville one afternoon before we leave for Alabama, if we can arrange it. I do hope, if they do I may have the joy of seeing you. Little Lucy the Moores and Miss Buckner, if only just for a few moments. I've almost reached the "rolling chair" age. 

With love to you and your family and grateful memories. 

Your sincere friend,
Annie Rankin Dukes"