Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker

by John Comer

Whether it’s accurate or not, it’s often accepted that what we do is what we are. What we do in the way of making a living, that is. It’s something of a defining point in how others are likely to regard us.

In 1850 the federal census began recording occupations, and I’m here to tell you that reading down one of these lists can be as exciting as getting caught up in a John Grisham novel. Well, sort of.

Most of our ancestors were probably farmers, but there were some interesting variations. In 1850 in Murray County, Georgia, there was a Gold Digger, a Stage Driver, a Carriage Maker, and a Dentist-Farmer. (He’d probably stop plowing long enough to pull your tooth.)

There was a “Segar” Maker and a “Ciger” Maker, one born in Bavaria and the other in Austria, both having a little trouble with the language. There was an “Artest” from Germany, a Negro Trader (who dealt in slaves), and a Farm Overseer (of slave laborers). Living in a neighboring county with his bride of 60 years was William Coggins, age 104, a Revolutionary War Pensioner. On the Georgia coast there were people making their living as Lighthouse Keeper, Shipsmith, and Mariner.

A couple of occupations really caught my eye, and might be considered pretty cushy work for those lucky enough to find such jobs: Fannie Parland, age 21, and worth $100,000, said her occupation was “Lady.” One fellow listed his as “Gentleman,” and another, “At Leisure.” On a more sobering note, there were numbers of children as young as 10 and 12, laborers along with their widowed mothers in the textile mills. One man brought home his paycheck from being “Superintendent of the Poorhouse.”

When Adam was banished from Eden, he was sent out to work the ground. In the Ten Commandments, God reserved the Sabbath to be kept holy, but the other six days were for working. Paul admonished us to lead a quiet life, mind our own business, and to work with our hands. He also commanded that if a man will not work, he shall not eat. Even slaves were told to do their work as for the Lord. Our Old and New Testaments present us with a Judeo-Christian work ethic that when practiced sets the standard for the world. Maybe this suggests that it’s not only what we do, but also how conscientiously we do it, that defines who we are.