Death of a Company Town

Tiny Daniels, Md. (pop. 381), is one of the last examples of that almost vanished bit of Americana, the company town, which once ranged from Western mine and lumber settlements to Southern cotton camps. Somehow, Daniels, nestled in a wooded hollow along a back road eleven miles west of Baltimore, has managed to survive. Its company store, company houses, company-dominated churches and company mill--its raison d'etre--all remained intact in the age of the megalopolis.

Intact, that is, until last month, when the C. R. Daniels textile company, which wholly owns the 128-year-old community, started demolishing it in line with a decision made last year that it was too expensive to maintain. The $15-million-a-year mill operation will be unaffected by the policy, since most of those losing their homes are too set in their ways--or too old--to look for new jobs. A good number of the 94 displaced families, accustomed to living in their own homes at $16-a-month rent, may be forced to move into Baltimore public-housing projects.

Although probably justifiable on economic grounds, the death of Daniels creates a sad and unusual social problem that has prompted several groups to try, unsuccessfully, to save it. Some large families and retired couples will undoubtedly wind up on food stamps and welfare. Oliver Overington, 74, retired from the mill in 1960 and lives with his wife on a company pension of $6.25 a month and $1,800 a year in social security. Though their Daniels house had minimal facilities (no hot running water), the Overingtons had taken pains with the painting and papering and were convinced that they would live there the rest of their lives. Last week they moved to a $75-a-month apartment which they can ill-afford.

At the other end of town lives Richard Landacre, 62, with his wife and grandchild. He makes $1.60 an hour at the mill, spends much of his leisure time working in his large vegetable garden. "We're both sickly," says Mrs. Landacre. "He takes nine kinds of medicine and me five." Where will they go? "I guess we'll just find a room," she says resignedly, "and sit there."

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