(Reprint of December 28, 1979 Greenville Piedmont article titled Grist mill crumbles while memories weather well) Parkins Mill was once a hub of activity as farmers from miles around brought their corn and grain to be ground into meal and flour. But now, nestled in a hollow and surrounded by modern homes, the mill stands silent as it crumbles with age. Scurrying rats and rustling leaves are only shadows of memories of a busier time. Back when Laurens Road was a dirt path and a dusty Cleveland Street was traveled by horse-drawn carriages, laughing children clothed in burlap sack bathing suits slid down moss-covered rocks into a teaming spring. And down in the hollow, just beyond the hickory nut trees, the gristmill nourished. Neighbors from miles around would bring their corn and wheat to be ground into meal or flour under the huge grindstone. And the barefooted children would splash in the trough and climb the huge water wheel that turned the gears. Parkins Mill - nestled in a valley bordered by Cleveland Street and Henderson Road and once called Babb's Hollow - now is surrounded by contemporary homes of wood and glass. The pine walls of the mill are crumbling; the buckled roof is caving in. Many well-worn floorboards have been torn away and the walls are covered with penciled graffiti. Crackling leaves of seasons past clutter the floor that still remain. Cobwebs inhabit sunlit corners. The millstone is gone, broken and used for stepping stones on a neighboring property. The energy supply - the wheel - has long since been removed, as well. But the gears still turn and the memories remain. MEMORIES "All of us children couldn't wait to go to Grandma's on the weekend," said Lottie Neal. Now an energetic 73, Mrs. Neal, along with her sister, brothers and cousins, grew up with the mill. "We walked all the way from the Laurens Road," she said. "Of course, it wasn't paved then and there were only about five houses. It was about 4 miles down there, but we thought nothing of walking that distance. "Grandma made us homemade bathing suits out of floor sacks, and we would slide down the rocks by the dam," she reminisced. "Why we didn't get killed I'll never know." "And the mill, oh, it was a beautiful thing. We'd go in there and put our hands right in the meal, as it was being ground. It was so fine and warm, and it smelled so good. Like popcorn popping," she smiled, her eyes sparkling behind wire-framed glasses. Memories of the mill are warm ones. "Everybody in the city had big farms back then," she explained. "You never bought store-bought flour. You'd go get flour and cornmeal from the mill. But, of course, you ate more of that then you do now. You had biscuits every meal. It was so good fresh. Better than oatmeal you buy today." UNCLE TULLY Mrs. Neal's Uncle Tully Babb owned and worked the mill for as long as she could remember. "I was born in 1906 and it was built long before I was born," she said. Babb owned about 500 acres, which included the area roughly bordered by Laurens Road, Pleasantburg Drive and Cleveland Street. The grist mill was close to the center of his property. His white wood-frame house, just up the hill, sill remains. His parents -Mrs. Neal's grandparents - lived in the house that was down the hill closer to the mill. A dirt road wound from his house to the mill. Traces of the earthen road are visible when gusts of wind scatter the blanket of leaves that now covers the trail. A couple of barns and tenant houses were the only other structures on the property at that time. Babb was a wealthy man in his era. He also owned a large grape vineyard and produced wine for the government prior to prohibition. The youngsters held him in awe. "He had his huge barn and you know what he kept in there?" Mrs. Neal gleamed. "He had one of the first Buicks sold in Greenville County. Oh, it was all brass across the front, running boards on the side, a big old rubber horn you could honk. And he kept it shined up like new money!" Mrs. Neal hasn't visited the mill site in years but she can still paint a vivid picture of an age gone by. "There was this trace. I guess that's what they call it. It stored water for the mill. It would get full of these eels. Once a year, they'd let the trace off and the people that brought their corn would get those eels and eat them. Cook them up just like fish. "Yes, people from miles around brought all their corn there to be ground. It was the only mill in this part of the country then," she said. But the mill has long since been out of operation. "It hasn't been used since Uncle Tully died. After Uncle Tully died he left it to Miss Lizzie (his second wife). And after Miss Lizzie died Emma Flinkingshelt (Lizzie's daughter) took it over." DEVELOPMENT Emma Flinkingshelt is a stately brown-haired woman of 69. A businesswoman all her life, Miss Flinkingshelt became executor of the estate upon Uncle Tully's death in 1952. She has lived in the Parkins Mill area all her life, "except during the war when I moved into town," she said. She also has memories. "I remember playing on those slick rocks, and playing in the pond" she said. "Climbing all over the place, picking violets. That was the place to go on weekends. There was a tremendous garden and grape pavilions. Everyone said he made the best wine you could drink," she said. When Babb died, he left Miss Flinkingshelt, as executor, about 300 acres to develop. She sold some of the land across Pleasantburg Drive to Greenville Technical College and developed spacious subdivisions in the area. "I had the streets cut. I named the streets. And if you don't think that's hard - trying to find names that haven't been picked," she laughed. Many of her five brothers and sisters still live in the area. One brother lives in Tully Babb's old home, which is now dwarfed by the homes that surround it. It sets back on Parkins Mill Road, which Miss Flinkingshelt remembers as an "old muddy road, with a deep ditch on either side." CHANGES But the times have changed the area. Babb's Hollow was sold to James D. Massey. He took an interest in the old mill and remodeled much of it. He added plumbing, electricity, a fireplace and even a shower. The water wheel still worked, but it later rusted and became inoperable. Massey never used the mill to actually grind corn and wheat, as it had been used in the past. He used it more for a summer place, "his club." But he also later sold the property to Frank Spears and Joe Hiller. They wanted to develop the property and build homes. But they let the mill stand. "No one used it. But kids forever and ever had been down there scribbling on the walls," explained Marianne Spears, whose home is next to the old creek that fed the mill. "Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts used it from time to time as a club house. And, of course, little boys will play their war games down there. And so the old mill changed with the times. She said the old dirt road leading down to the mill was a popular place for parking back in the 50s. "And during the hippie era, we were quite afraid someone was doing to take up residence down there. We shoed away quite a few bad-looking types," Mrs. Spears laughed. Now some high schools use the site for taking yearbook pictures; children still explore the crumbling ruins looking for old bottles and artifacts. Her 13-year-old son, Frank, said, "All the little kids would say it's full of witches and goblins. But it wasn't. It was full of bats, though. And rats. My cat has a great time down there." TEARING DOWN A small piece of Greenville history is crumbling away. Sometime soon, possible next spring, the mill will be torn down to make way for another homesite. The plans have been made, the house is already designed. High mortgage rates are the only thing standing before total destruction. Joe Hiller, who is developing the property, said the boards will be salvaged and the old gears will probably be displayed out on the deck of the contemporary home. Times are changing. (If you have historical information & facts about Gower Estates, please contact us so we may print it in our future newspaper.)