Forgotten south-Oklahoma town helps its less-fortunate

MANNSVILLE — The short stretch of U.S. 177 that cuts through the heart of this south-central Oklahoma town offers a forlorn vista.

A 1980s-era white Cadillac sits on blocks behind a long-out-of-business car wash. Faded and worn storefronts slump behind rutted gravel parking lots along both sides of what serves as Main Street. Hard against either side of the two-lane blacktop, houses and trailers rest in various states of repair. Some boast neatly kept flower beds and pumpkins, scarecrows and other fall decorations, while others show their neglect with sagging porches and peeling paint.

Bill's Cafe, the Mannsville Ag Center and a gas station still operate along the road, but, no doubt, times are tough in this community of about 850 residents where the median household income is about $36,000 — $9,000 less than the state average — and where more than a quarter of households receive some form of public assistance. 

“We have a lot of the same problems a lot of little towns have,” said Twanda Hill, 66, a lifelong resident of the town located about 95 miles southeast of Oklahoma City. “We have a lot of people who don't have much money, and because of that, we have kids who don't have what they need when it comes to things like clothes. But we make do as a town, and we try to do everything we can for those that aren't as fortunate.”

Indeed, while some things have changed over the years in Mannsville, residents here say one thing remained constant: willingness to help those in need.

At the town's annual Thanksgiving dinner, the fire department smokes the turkeys and hams, and many more volunteer serve the meals, enough to feed 300 people.

For others, the First Baptist Church puts together baskets containing everything needed to make Thanksgiving dinner. At Christmas, an Angel Tree helps with gifts for needy kids.

But even here in Mannsville, where the spirit of volunteerism is great, the need, like most everywhere else in Oklahoma, is greater.

Town officials and residents are reluctant to disparage the place they call home, but they make it clear that folks here on the remote eastern edge of Johnston County could use some assistance.

“We are united,” said Shonda Barnes, 48, Mannsville's town manager and treasurer. “Coming together to do things like that keeps us together, but every once in a while, you need some help, and I just don't think we always get that from the county or the state because of where we are.”

Volunteer central

If there is a center for volunteering in Mannsville, it sits just off that main drag, behind a low stone wall and through the fire-engine red doors of the Mannsville School.

To many here, the K-8 school is the most important building in town, providing a sense of a community identity and a source of pride.

Rebuilt after being wiped away by a tornado in 1935, it's where the Halloween carnival is still going strong after more than five decades. Pictures of past Mannsville students hang in the school's auditorium.

Hill, who began teaching at Mannsville in 1971, is deeply proud of the school, where teachers see and know seemingly everything about their students. Mannsville alumni have gone on to become doctors, lawyers and accountants, and one even works for the CIA.

“You'd be surprised what this little old school has done,” Hill said. “I think we've saved a lot of kids. We have good relationships with our students. If they don't want to please their parents, they want to please their mean, old eighth-grade English teacher.”

The school's students are mostly poor. According to the Oklahoma Education Department, 85 percent of the school's students were on the reduced lunch program in 2014. Some face struggles at home that come in all varieties.

Teachers at the school are the eyes and ears of the community. When a student comes to school without a coat on a cold day, Mannsville reacts through its own network of volunteers.

“If we see a child that needs anything, all we have to do is pick up the phone and call the Methodist church or the Baptist church,” Hill said. “It's just a phone call away.”

Judy Foster, 64, is the school's music teacher. She's also active in the local Methodist church, which just wrapped up a clothing drive where 64 kids took home new coats. They church also distributed 55 pairs of shoes. The clothing drive served 14 more people than it did a year ago.

Foster said that in a crisis, everyone in town pulls together but added that more mentoring of students and more volunteer work in town would work wonders.

“When you feel good about where you live, there is intrinsic value that just makes you want to do better things,” she said. “Your house is repaired, now you want to fix it up inside and dust it. And then maybe you want to invite some people over and have some socializing. That's how communities stay strong.”

While the school is the front lines for taking care of Mannsville's kids, the fear it could disappear always hangs in the air. 

“If you lose your school, it's like losing your identity,'' Barnes said. “It would just dry up.”

‘An easy place'

Mayor Don Colbert saw it happen. Several years ago, the community of Russett, about five miles away, consolidated its school with Mannsville.

“Now, there's nothing in that town,” he said. “We worry about losing the school all the time. We think about it every year.”

Mannsville already lost its high school 40 years ago. Kids now go to nearby Dickson after eighth grade.

Colbert, 69, is a Mannsville lifer, born when the town boasted a lumber company, a trucking business, a cotton oil company, along with several gas stations and a grocery store.

At one time, he knew every one of the town's residents.

“I knew their kids, their cars and their dogs,” he said. “But now there's probably 50 percent of the people here that have moved in since then that I don't know as well.”

Colbert laments the need for businesses in town, which for more than a century, catered to area farmers and ranchers. According to the census, about 20 percent of Mannsville's residents live under the federal poverty line, though Colbert estimates that number is closer to 40 percent.

Some residents don't have transportation, which makes it hard for them to get to work in Ardmore, about 20 miles east. Colbert figures if there were more jobs in town, transportation wouldn't be an issue.

“We have trouble getting businesses to come to Mannsville,” he said. “We have one convenience store and one cafe. Our post office went to half a day. Everything that happens is away from Mannsville. We could use more sales tax revenue, but what we could really use is some industry, and we would be willing to work with anyone who wanted to come here.”

Colbert stays because it's home. Even though many of the town's faces have changed over the years, he still knows more than enough people to help him out of a jam if he needs it. Colbert recalls getting stuck in a ditch on his way to work recently and not having any trouble finding someone to pull him out at 5 a.m.

“I've been all over the world with the Marine Corps, and I think Mannsville is the best place in the world,” he said. “It's an easy place to live.”

Barnes, the town manager, said she wouldn't live anywhere else.

“It's a close-knit community,” said Barnes, who also served on the school board. “If you weren't from around here, you wouldn't think you would want to live here. But if you're from here, you know it. People are good-hearted.”

Above and beyond

Despite the lack of jobs, always-looming threat of school consolidation and other social and economic challenges, town leaders continue to dream.

Hill said Mannsville could use a day care center and Colbert is working to acquire land so the city can build a park for kids. 

And where the state fails, folks like Hill pick up the slack. Hill grew up in town and graduated from its long-gone high school. She's taught English, served as librarian and girls basketball coach.

Her family is mostly gone now. She isn't married and has no children of her own. The students at the school are often the only thing on her mind.

Still teaching but retired from coaching, Hill still runs the clock inside Mannsville's refurbished WPA-era gym. Her job description is long, but in many ways it's simple — go above and beyond for the students in every way she can.

“Everyone tells me I'm Mother Theresa, but I don't quite see it that way,” Hill said modestly, almost laughing at the compliment.

As Hill heads outside to make sure the scoreboard inside the gym is ready for her to operate later that afternoon, a girl stops her to show off a drawing. Seconds later, a boy frantically asks her where the basketball coach is. He can't find his uniform. She answers both and moves on to the next crisis.

“Kids are so awesome, they inspire you every day,” she said. “I was reading a book the other night that said kids laugh 300 times a day, while adults only laugh 12 times a day. Now who would you rather be around?”

And, who would you rather volunteer for?