The Legend of the Black-eyed Pea

In Abilene, the summer of 1935 was more than hot and dry. It was devastating.

The Great Depression and the worst drought the area had ever seen combined to cripple the entire region. Farmers, ranchers and merchants were all without money. Everything was cheap, but it didn't really matter. No one had any money to purchase anything anyway.

Hendrick, at that time named West Texas Baptist Sanitarium, was one of the institutions suffering the most. The depression had increased the need for charity work, and, at the same time, rendered the churches too feeble to support the hospital.

There was no money to pay the electric bill or to purchase food for patients and employees. The dire circumstances made it almost certain the hospital would close its doors. Mr. E.M. Collier, the young and aggressive administrator of the fledgling 10-year-old hospital, sent out a cry of desperation to West Texans for any help they might be able to muster.

Hospital employees were the first to respond. Many took only enough money out of their paychecks to pay for their families' essentials. Others turned their entire paychecks back to the hospital to help in keeping the doors open.

In the dry June of 1935, only one crop appeared to thrive --- black-eyed peas. Employees began bringing bushels of peas to the hospital, and, before long, farmers from Lueders, Avoca, Potosi, Buffalo Gap, Merkel, Clyde and other surrounding towns began to arrive with pick-ups filled with bushels of peas.

Mr. Collier perched himself at the entrance of the hospital greeting patients and shelling peas. Nurses shelled peas at nursing stations throughout the hospital. Orderlies and housekeepers finished their duties early and spent their remaining hours shelling peas.

Big vats of peas were cooked in the hospital kitchen, and black-eyed peas, served with cornbread and mush, became the dietary staple for patients, employees and physicians.

Mr. Collier, who served West Texas Baptist Sanitarium and Hendrick for more than 40 years, saw the hospital through this most difficult time. However, he never forgot the "Black-eyed Pea Summer of 1935."

"That summer taught us to never underestimate the value of even the smallest thing," Mr. Collier said years later. "I don't think we would have survived without someone thinking to give us that first bushel of peas ... and then the bushels just kept coming. It was a wonderful time for the hospital."