Walker, Annie Mabel

Walker, Annie, 6 May 1926

Annie Mabel Walker, 6 May 1926.

Annie Walker Peninger, Concord Tribune, 14 January, 1996.












Class of 1926
Classical Course

Birth: 24 Jan 1904
Death: 23 Mar 1999

John Davis Walker (1861-1936)
Minnie Rose Faggart (1961-1940)

Spouse: Glenn Hoyle Peninger (1906 – 1965)
Married: 18 Jan 1928, Cabarrus County, North Carolina

Grace Ophelia Walker (1885 – 1971)
Fannie Eula Walker (1887 – 1975)
Jesse Homer Walker (1889 – 1979)
Elsie Pauline Walker Smith (1891 – 1946)
Cora Ruth Walker Cress (1892 – 1985)
Paul Alexander Walker (1894 – 1966)
Mary Lillian Walker (1897 – 1968)
Sidney Franklin Walker (1899 – 1943)
James Ernest Walker (1902 – 1987)

Glenn Hoyle Peninger (1928 – 2011)
Frances Ann Peninger Burford (1932 – )

Saint Johns Evangelical Lutheran Church Cemetery
Concord, Cabarrus County, North Carolina, USA

Source: www.findagrave.com, #33900639


Concord Tribune (Concord, NC), 14 Jan 1996.

Stirs Memories
By Beth McLaughlin, Staff Writer

When it’s really cold outside, Annie Peninger stays in. She keeps busy reading three newspapers each day, forcing flower bulbs to bloom indoors and studying seed catalogs.

Reminiscing about days gone by is another of her pastimes. At 92 years old, she has plenty of years to remember and relive.

Recently, she discovered a cookbook from the 1920s she had among her possessions. She said she thought some of the facts and figures about Cabarrus County printed in the from and back covers of “Household Helps: Cookbook of Tried and Tested Recipes” might be interesting to young people in the county. The book was stamped “Compliments of the Concord Daily Tribune and The Concord Times.”

Peninger enjoys finding facts from the days when she was growing up: number of miles of asphalt highway in Cabarrus County in 1920 – 20 miles including state and national highways. Today the crisscrossing of county roads includes 971 miles of paved highway.

The book lists numbers of eligible voters by calling them polls. In 1920, there were a total of 3,716, broken down by black and white voters. Today there are 65,716 voters.

Before women’s suffrage in the 1920s, a poll tax was levied against men over 21 who registered to vote. Peninger said she and her contemporaries thought the word was “pole – like a fishing pole,” and related it to part of the male anatomy.

The population of the county was 33,730. Today it’s 117,000.

The county’s total valuation of real and personal property in 1920 was $22,418, 344. Today it’s $5.5 billion according to John Patterson of the Cabarrus County tax assessor’s office.

The jobs held by P. D. Blackwelder, superintendent of the chain gang, and W. B. Boger, official cotton weigher, no longer exist.

A lot of things have changed since 1920, Peninger said.

Painting of Walker homestead.

The youngest of 10 children of Mt. Pleasant cotton farmer, J. D. Walker, “We all had our own work to do,” she said. “We hoed cotton, but on Saturday afternoons we got to rest. Sunday we tried to go to church.”

Because she still lives on part of the family’s original farm land which has been worked for more that 100 years, she belongs to the Century Farm Club of North Carolina.

The Walkers had no car in those days, but as many as could fit inside rode in a buggy to church. When the family got a surrey with a fringed top, “We thought we got rich,” she said.

The family attended St. John’s Lutheran church, about a two-mile walk for those who didn’t make it first to the buggy. In addition to Sunday meeting, the Walker children walked to church weekly for Catechism School.

“When it was hot weather, I’d wear shoes, but as quick as I could get away from the church I would take them off and come home barefooted.”

She walked to school at Pinnacle, where grades one through seven were taught, about a mile away from her home. When the old country road was muddy, she stopped in the woods just before the school house and cleaned her shoes off with leaves and sticks.

After she finished at  Pinnacle, she attended Mont Amoena Seminary in Mt. Pleasant.

“It was all girls. Boys were not even allowed to walk on the property.” Girls who attended the school got teaching certificates, went on to a four-year school, or got married.

“A lot of them married preachers,” she said.

She married Glen Peninger a year after she finished school at Mount [sic] Amoena. Her husband worked at the mill for 30 years, and he’s been dead 30 years. They had two children.

She never married again because, “I was so mean, nobody would have me.” Now she carries a walking stick when she goes out in public sometimes and tells her friends it’s to beat the men back.

Peninger’s two great-grandchildren visited her this Christmas. Though they are her “pride and joy,” their toys are beyond her comprehension, she said.

“The toys are so loud. Children have to be entertained these days. We didn’t have that entertainment.”

At Christmastime, Peninger said she got oranges or apples and nuts to eat.

I don’t remember any toys, or very few.

New Year’s Day was just another day of the week, “Except we didn’t have mail service.”

George Barnhardt delivered the mail back then with a horse and buggy. When the roads were soggy, she remembers Barnhardt coming up the hill and cussing the mud, she said.

When World War I ended on Nov. 11, 1918, Peninger and her family were shucking corn out behind their house.

“We heard the wildcat whistle sound all the way from Hartsell Mill in Concord, and we knew the armistice agreement had been signed,” she said.

At 92, Peninger still drives some. She goes to the church where she gets a hot lunch every day, and she drives to Finger to get her hair done.

Some people at the church criticize her because she’s more regular in her meal attendance than in her Sunday morning attendance, but they don’t understand how difficult it can be to get up and dressed in church clothes in the morning when it’s cold outside, she said, “If they would walk in my shoes for a while, they’d understand.”

Each Sunday morning she gets up, bathes, and puts on clean clothes to worship with the television broadcast of Rev. Bill Wood from First Presbyterian Church in Charlotte.

“I watch it religiously. I make notes so later in the week I can remember what the preacher said.”

She stayed at home alone on Christmas day, because it was too cold to be out, “At my age I’m trying to half-way take care of myself.” And though she has outlived many of her companions over the years, she still has plenty of friends.

“You don’t live a hundred years and not learn a few people,” she said.

Though she has had a long, happy, and prosperous life, Peninger said she doesn’t really know the secret to achieving it. There is, however, one piece of advice she will relay to inquirers:

“Hard work won’t kill anybody. I’ve worked hard all my life, and if hard work could kill, I’d have been dead a long time ago.”


Comments from https://www.facebook.com/groups/1863029447342349/?ref=bookmarks
2 Apr 2018

Angela Ferguson: Miss Annie was a sweetie. She said exactly what she thought. She could hunt and fish and was self sufficient. I fished in her pond a time or two before she died. Her sweet brother, Rev. James Walker was also a good man and served the congregation of St. John’s Lutheran Church and community for many years. Rev. Walker was a graduate of Mt. Pleasant Collegiate institute and was a classmate of my grandfather…My father in law had a lot of respect for her. She was sincere about her guns and hunting.

Rev. Walker confirmed a story my granddad told while at MPCI. They were attending chapel and Col. McAllister was not there yet. A cat was in chapel coming in through the window. The cat leaned against my granddad’s legs as he had been feeding this stray animal. He quickly grabbed the cat and lifted the top of the piano as Col. McAllister was entering the building. The cat walked across the keys and Col. McAllister accused the piano player of inappropriate antics. After denying, the cat moved again. As Col. McAllister lifted the piano top, the frightened cat jumped out and jumped onto Col. McAllister’s head. I don’t think both men could have collaborated such a tale even though my granddad was lovingly known as “Lyin’ John Moose.”

Ben Callahan: Her brother officiated at my wedding. He told a story about when he was courting his future wife at Mont Amoena, he would stand under her window and she would lower messages down on a string. He would attach his reply and she would wind it back up.