History of Banning Mills

At its peak, the mill employed around 240 workers and supported a population of roughly 500. Most homes were modest, with gardens, outhouses, and stone or brick chimneys.

Banning’s mill village was physically and socially organized into three main ridges—Front, Middle, and Back Ridge. Each ridge carried its own social identity and implied status within the village.

Front Ridge was home to the most established families, supervisors, and more skilled or senior mill workers. Homes here were larger and better maintained. Some had 6 rooms for only one family! Residents on Front Ridge were seen as more stable and respectable, and their opinions often held more weight in village matters

This historic photo shows Arthur Hutcheson sitting on his porch. This house was built in 1870 and is still standing proudly on Banning Road! Of course, it is located in the Front Ridge. Notice that little magnolia tree in the front yard? It is now towering over the house!

The homes on Middle Ridge housed families of workers who had not yet proven to be so valuable to management as the inhabitants of Front Ridge. They usually had not resided at Banning for long or were newly married with growing families. All the homes had four rooms, sometimes with two families occupying one house. There were about twelve houses in the Middle Ridge area.

The shabbiest homes were on Back Ridge. They often had large cracks in the wall and floor. “You could see the chickens running under the house, that’s how far apart the boards were,” said one former resident. Workers with a reputation for being “shady” lived on this ridge. These individuals had not been in the area long enough to establish themselves and did not always stay long or work consistently at the mill. There were about twelve houses in the Back Ridge area.

Each ridge had its own social hubs, cliques, and traditions, contributing to a layered internal community dynamic, despite the village’s small size. Young males claimed possession of their turf through staunch defense of their home ridges.

According to Billy Driver, who grew up at Banning in the 1930s and 1940s, each ridge had a gang and newcomers to a ridge had to be accepted. *” Young men patrolled these areas protecting their homes and often driving out youths from the neighboring ridges.

Despite the class distinctions between ridges, the people of Banning showed strong communal bonds, especially in hard times. The social structure may have shaped daily life, but it didn’t stop residents from stepping up for one another when it mattered most.

This image shows the location of the mill village areas circled in purple. 

Corinth Church

A combination church and school was one of the first additions made by Arthur Hutcheson after acquiring the property in 1878. Religion played a significant role in village life. “Whether interested in the word of the church or not,” one interviewee shared, “church events served as both uplifting agents and entertainment.” Revivals, Sunday services, and school recitals brought the community together across generations. The school provided primary education up to the 5th grade until 1929, after which students were transported to nearby Whitesburg. The land and building were deeded as a gift by Arthur Hutcheson to the Church for as long as it operated. Services are held every Sunday to this day!

Medicine

Though Banning was remote, Hutcheson and later owners ensured medical care was available for employees and their families, typically provided by a mill-hired doctor. While basic by today’s standards, having medical care on-site was a rare benefit for rural communities at the time.

Baseball: The Banning Nine

Baseball wasn’t just recreation—it was a pillar of village pride. From 1914 into the 1940s, the mill sponsored a team known as the Banning Nine, which competed against other local teams including Mandeville Mills, Carrollton, Villa Rica, and their fiercest rival, Whitesburg. One 1914 article described the excitement: “The Banning Nine take the high marks wherever they go.”

The games drew large crowds and gave workers something to root for beyond their shifts. Players sometimes received lighter duties or better wages for their athletic performance. “Baseball helped us forget work for a while,” said one resident. “We’d all come out to the field. It was the biggest thing we had.”

Even during Prohibition and hard times, baseball remained a source of unity. The old field, still visible along Horseshoe Dam Road, stands as a reminder of the role sports played in shaping Banning’s identity.

Pictured here is the infamous Banning Nine!

Childhood at Banning Mill was a blend of freedom, work, and deeply rooted community life. For many, the village offered a close-knit environment where children roamed freely—when they weren’t working.

Work from a Young Age

In 1880, the majority of mill workers recorded on the census were children of a single Mother, seventeen households out of twenty-eight. Each family had from two to seven children.  The adult household head, presumably the mother, kept house while the children worked in the mill. The youngest age of a child working in the mill on the 1880 census reports was eight!

Comparisons of the ensuing three available census reports for the Banning District reveal many of the same “children” of the 1880s still residing at the mill at least until 1920.

Following World War I, life changed for many of the young people of Banning. By 1920, child labor reforms were in place across the South. Even still, it was common for children to leave school by seventh grade and begin work in the mill alongside their parents. One man recalled that “if you were 12 and not working yet, you were late.” Many children started as sweepers or errand runners before moving into full-time positions. Others recalled being promoted from “piecework to full-speed” in their early teens.

Balancing School and Labor

When they weren’t in the mill, children attended school, often in a mill-sponsored building. Some walked or caught rides to Whitesburg if they wanted to continue their education beyond what was offered in the village. This commute built a kind of resilience—one child remembered walking with friends, rain or shine, along the red clay roads.

Pranks and Games

Despite the work, there was room for mischief. Pranks were common and ever-present among the youthful workers. These tricks were a mill tradition as each generation had heard of them and would fine tune them for their own purposes. One former female mill operative remembers seeing one of her co-workers preparing a prank on an unsuspecting new worker. “I seen him took a bobbin, nail it to the floor and then when they would come by and kick it, they could break a toe...all the times doing things like that...I was just a child (age 12). They nailed coats to the wall, everyone hung up their coats...leaving, you run and grab coats, and they stuck”.  She also recalled a new worker “cried” because they sent him to retrieve a nonexistent “elevator key” that he never found. Other pranks that were relayed involved putting things in people’s lunches, rigging up buckets of water to drop on unsuspecting heads and telling people unfamiliar with electricity that they had to blow out the lights.

These pranks became a rite necessary for acceptance among the ranks of established millhands. It was initiation to a new order for many of the novice workers and one that they would be eager to perform on the next newcomer to the mill. It was also indicative of a close-knit community with strong traditions, especially among the children.

The mill itself became a playground after hours. Children would race spools, sneak into empty workrooms, or watch older siblings at the looms. “We made our fun,” one woman remembered. “The creek, the woods, and each other—that’s all we needed.”

Not All Fun and Games

All was not light-hearted and whimsical for the young labor force. Since the mill operated two twelve hour shifts up until the 1930s, some of the children had to work nights. Children of the last generation of youthful workers recall being frightened at night. They also recall parental tales that warned of the “dark corners” of the mill, the occasional appearance of a wildcat on the trails leading to the houses, and the subsequent terror of having to walk home in the dark.

The danger was not all make believe. Several workers mentioned the electrocution of a sixteen-year-old boy. “They were building the new school in Whitesburg (1929) and the company gave him some scrap pipe and metal to go in the floor. He was down there dragging it out and he got electrocuted....they were trying to revive him, and I was twelve years old and remember well what the doctor said...it ain’t no use, his eyeballs are busted”. Talk about the origin of a good ghost story!

Community and Responsibility

Many children helped care for younger siblings, shared household duties, and learned skills like quilting, gardening, and canning from their parents. Boys often hunted or fished for food; girls gathered with mothers and neighbors to cook or do laundry together.

And though times were hard, the village taught kids to look out for one another. “You couldn’t get away with much—everyone knew your mama,” one man said with a grin. “But we were all family, in a way.”

Though only a few miles apart, Banning and Whitesburg felt like different worlds—and the rivalry between them shaped Banning’s tight-knit identity.

Pride in Place

Banning may have been rural, but it was never aimless. Interviews show that many residents took pride in their village’s self-reliance, strong work ethic, and traditions. “We didn’t have much, but we had each other,” said one former resident. “And we knew how to get by without anybody's help.”

This sense of unity was reinforced by hardship. During the Great Depression, many Banning families stayed put—even when the mill shut down—sharing food, chores, and shelter. These bonds created a deep local identity that outsiders rarely understood.

Whitesburg: The Other Side of the Tracks

Whitesburg, by contrast, had more shops, paved roads, and access to transportation. Residents there often viewed mill hands as poor and uneducated—an attitude that didn’t go unnoticed. Some interviewees recalled being called names like “lintheads” or teased for their “mill village” clothes and accents.

One resident recalled, “You could feel it when you went into town. They thought they were better than us.” Another mentioned being turned away from a local Whitesburg event because she was “from the mill.”

This social judgment led to strong internal pride among Banning villagers. They embraced their shared experience and rallied around the mill and each other. While each mill village ridge often held internal rivalries, Banning youth often came together to keep outsiders away from the village, particularly young men from nearby Whitesburg who were meeting young women of the mill for a date. As they approached Banning, some of the mill youths would shout taunts at them or throw rocks.

Baseball Battles

Nowhere was the rivalry more visible than on the baseball field. The games between the Banning Nine and Whitesburg Boys were the stuff of legend—often drawing large crowds and heated emotions. “We didn’t just want to win—we wanted to beat them bad,” laughed one player. “Especially if they’d been running their mouths all week.” The Banning Nine beat Whitesburg by wide margins on occasion—25 to 2 in one case—and close losses stung for weeks.

In 1914, a Carroll County Times article even rooted for Banning to lose, saying it might “teach them a lesson.” The games were fiercely competitive—and sometimes personal. “We settled things on the field,” said one man. “And win or lose, we walked off proud.”

While life at Banning centered around the mills, villagers still found time to celebrate, relax, and entertain themselves—often in simple, heartfelt ways.

Porch Music and Storytelling

After long shifts, families gathered on front porches to play guitars, sing old songs, and swap stories. One man recalled, “You didn’t need a radio—we were the entertainment.” But weeknights were quiet compared to weekends. As one former mill worker said, “We didn’t sit out much during the week. Everybody was tired after climbing that hill.”

Homemade Fun

Candy pullings, square dances, and “singings” were popular social events. Furniture was pushed aside for living room dances, and kids played games in the yard or by the creek. “We made our own fun,” said one resident. “We had the creek, the woods, and each other.”

Holidays and Celebrations

The Fourth of July was the biggest celebration in the village. The mill gave workers the day off, and owners provided a barbecue picnic, games, and baseball tournaments. Christmas was another special time, when management handed out gifts and candy bags. For many families, these were the only new toys or treats they’d receive all year.

Moonshine in the Mill Village

While church events and candy pullings brought families together, there was a different kind of gathering happening behind closed doors. Moonshine played a quiet but steady role in Banning’s social life.

Unlawful behavior was not an accepted standard in the community; yet, at Banning its presence was indicative of another element of belonging and connection. During the Prohibition years, leading into the Depression, some of the more daring families produced moonshine to make ends meet. Banning, at one time, had three “doggeries” or taverns.

According to Banning resident, Barbara Gentry, many of the villagers made liquor behind their houses throughout the 1930s and 1940s. She recalled her uncle setting up a small shed behind the house and naming it the “smokehouse.” When her uncle came close to being arrested for his secret production, he enlisted her aid in burning down the smokehouse.

Moonshine production wasn’t limited to Banning. The wooded hills and hidden hollows of west Georgia were ideal for stills, making it a regional tradition long before and after Prohibition. Even after Prohibition ended, the practice continued in smaller circles. For mill workers who earned little and had limited access to store-bought liquor, making their own wasn’t just a pastime—it was a way of life.

This vibrant patchwork of traditional and modern leisure helped shape Banning’s culture, offering joy, connection, and a break from the mills’ rigors. Whether quilting, hunting, gossiping at the company store, or watching a silent film in the schoolhouse, the people of Banning created a social world rich in loyalty, humor, and pride. To be from Banning meant something. And it still does.

Life in Banning wasn’t easy, especially during periods of economic instability. Mill closures, pay cuts, and ownership changes were common—but so was resilience. Oral histories and local records show how tight-knit families and deep-rooted traditions carried the community through decades of uncertainty.

The Great Depression and Shutdowns

Banning’s most severe downturn came during the Great Depression. In 1929, the mill shut down, leaving around 173 workers without income. It reopened in 1932 with just 67 hands, and then closed and reopened several more times before 1941.

Despite the closures, many families stayed. With nowhere else to go, they continued to live in the company houses—tending gardens, raising chickens, hunting and fishing in the woods, and relying on one another for food and childcare. “There wasn’t any work,” one resident remembered, “but we still had each other. We shared what we had.”

Fallback to Farming

For some, the return to a subsistence farming lifestyle was a natural shift. Families moved between mill life and agriculture depending on the economy. “We’d go back to the farm when the mill shut down, then come back when it opened up again,” said one interviewee. This flexibility was a hallmark of rural Southern life—and it kept Banning alive through downturns.

Poncet Davis and the “Beaucoups”

In the early 1920s, mill owner Poncet Davis revived the paternalistic system—introducing a local currency called “beaucoups,” used in the company store. The name, a tongue-in-cheek use of the French word for “a lot,” highlighted how isolated the workers were. They were paid in beaucoups, spent them in company-owned buildings, and often couldn’t afford to leave. Visit our gift shop to purchase a replica Beaucoups!

Davis added a rubber factory next to the cotton mill and Banning began to manufacture rubber handlebars for bicycles. Then due to mismanagement and the faltering economy the whole country experienced in the late 1920s, the mill closed.

One worker recounted poignantly what life was like during the hard times. “They got behind with the payroll five weeks, didn’t pay the help. .. That’s when they went out... Then everything hit the bottom...all at once. The mill shut down and stayed shut down four years. The people on the village...they got in pretty rough shape. People from all over was hunting jobs...they’d come over there hunting a job, wasn’t nothing there. People still had their garden patches. One of the men wanted some wood cut, I was thirteen years old, my brother was fifteen. He said, *I ain’t got no money boys, but I got plenty of collards’. We had to have something to eat, so we went to work.

Ownership changed hands many times from the 1940s to the 1970s, but little improved. The machinery grew outdated, and younger workers sought jobs in Carrollton or Newnan. By the 1960s, the mill was producing yarn for household mops, and only a small crew remained.

When Banning Mill closed for good in 1971, it marked the end of an era. But for many who grew up there, the strength of the community remained. “We lost the mill,” said one woman, “but we didn’t lose our memories—or each other.”