The most common types of watermelons in Burke County when I was growing up were Charleston Greys, Crimson Sweets, Jubilees, Black Diamonds, Cannonballs, Georgia Rattlesnakes, and Sugar Babies. Of these, Charleston Greys and Black Diamonds grow the largest with Charleston Greys maxing out at 30-35 lbs. Black Diamonds will grow large, but their weights rarely exceed 25-30 pounds.
When I was a boy, the Burke County fair occurred every year in mid- to late-August, usually around the first or second week of school, a bit late for watermelon season. And, every year, there was a fierce competition to see who could grow the largest watermelon. It was always so disconcerting to me to see how some people aimlessly meandered by the exhibits since for the presenters, many had worked so hard for months to show off their accomplishments. Now, in Burke County there were many accomplished watermelon growers: James Stamey, Henry Beck, Ben Watkins, William and Rex McFalls, James Dula, and many others. Certainly, there was no room for an upstart kid like me. I needed an extraordinary plan if I was going to compete seriously with their ilk.
In 1981, most of our vegetable seeds were either purchased at the local feed and seed stores or mail-ordered through the Burpee catalogue. Besides the “store bought” seeds, there were heirloom varieties of watermelon seeds too and many people saved seeds from year to year. Without the convenience of the internet, conducting research was a totally different undertaking in those days. My search for the perfect contender involved scouring all sorts of agricultural magazines and seed catalogues. I also talked to some of the older growers and asked them about “old-timey” varieties of above-average-sized watermelons. At long last, I heard a rumor about a watermelon variety named Tom Watson, in honor of the original grower who did the cross-germination to develop it. I heard rumors that Tom Watson seeds grew watermelons that could weigh 100 pounds or more. I had to find some seeds, but how and where?
I was determined to learn everything I could about Tom Watson watermelons. I remember hearing from somebody that Mr. Watson was a nineteenth century plantation owner and politician from Georgia. Allegedly, Mr. Watson specifically set out to grow larger watermelons in order to feed his constituents and persuade them to favor him with their votes. Even now, with the help of the internet, I have absolutely no evidence to support this account, but I can tell you there used to be a regular Tom Watson Watermelon Festival held in Thomson, Georgia. Nowadays, there are several heirloom seed distributors who offer Tom Watson watermelon seeds. I can also share that many of these dealers offer “Tom Watsons” that do not look anything like the Tom Watson variety I knew back then.
Determined to locate some seeds, I kept perusing the catalogues and magazines. None of the seed stores in town had even heard of a Tom Watson. Occasionally, I would meet somebody who said they had heard of the variety, but nobody knew where I could find them and everybody agreed that they were scarce as hen’s teeth. One day, while looking through an old almanac, I found a story about Tom Watson watermelons. According to the article, Tom Watson watermelons were most common in East Texas. I found an address and I wrote to the contact mentioned in the almanac. Keep in mind that I was in third grade and I didn’t have a complete address and the almanac was more than 10 years old. A few weeks later I received an apologetic response in the mail from a kind gentleman who advised me to contact a grower in Arkansas who was supposed to have seeds. I wrote a second letter and asked the Arkansan if he could send me two dollars’ worth of seeds. I had a crisp two-dollar bill that my Uncle Roger had given me for my birthday that I had been keeping pressed in our family Bible.
As an avid postcard collector, I was constantly sending requests to chambers of commerce around the country asking for postcards so the Route 7 mailman from Morganton and I had an arrangement. My dad saved pennies in an old White House vinegar bottle that still had a cork in it, and I raided it often. Whenever I had enough money for postage, I would leave the coins in the mailbox with my letter and the postman would affix postage and send my letter. Yes, I was a peculiar child and I mailed quite a few letters and postcards in those days. A few months later, I received 15-20 Tom Watson seeds in the mail. They came in a plain paper pouch with an old person’s handwriting on the front that said only, “Tom Watson.” Armed with my secret weapons, I anxiously awaited spring and the chance to plant my seeds.
After almost two years of planning, the time came to plant the seeds. I prepared my space by gathering a five-gallon bucket of cured pig manure. I dug a deep hole and meticulously mixed the soil so as not to burn the roots. I made a grand mound, wider than any normal watermelon hill because I assumed that oversized watermelons would grow on giant vines and my dad agreed. He would only let me make two hills, so I over-planted to make sure I would get a good stand. Two weeks later, only about half of the seeds had come up, but still, I was prouder than a pup with his first flea.
The vines grew vigorously, and they were bigger than my dad’s measly Charleston Greys. But then, seemingly overnight, one of my best vines just up and died. My dad said it had caught a blight and I always thought that explanation was weaker than pond water. Everything that died for no apparent reason, died from blight. I was never quite clear exactly what the blight was. Soon after, another plant died while my dad’s Charleston Grays kept on growing. More worrisome for me was the fact that my vines didn’t appear to have many melons setting on and each of the remaining vines only had one or two fruits. My dad said that I had probably over-fertilized my plants which explained my lush vines. Soon though, the Tom Watson melons were the same size as the Charlestons and they quickly more than doubled in size. I had at least five sure-fired winners and began to imagine the glory of my imminent victory. One of the melons grew huge with a second one only slightly smaller.
My dad began harvesting his watermelons which were so thick in the field, you couldn’t sling a cat without hitting one. Mine, on the other hand, were as hard to find as deviled eggs after a homecoming at church and worse, none of mine had yet ripened. Soon, I worried that maybe Tom Watson watermelons didn’t ripen like the ones I was used to and so, I picked one of the smaller ones with a nice white belly. There was only a trace of pink inside and it was too green to even try a taste. I resolved to wait, and the melons kept growing. Then, another blight tragedy struck in much the same fashion as before. The largest vine with the most prominent watermelon started to die. I was upset, but I knew we sometimes picked watermelons late in the season off dead or dying vines. Maybe there was still hope. Soon however, my worst fears were realized as the colossal watermelon began to rot in the field, and nothing remained but an enormous watermelon mud hole.
Now, my ambitions fell to the second largest melon. Another melon ripened first. It was double the size of any normal Charleston Grey and I couldn’t wait to taste it. I was disheartened to see that the Tom Watson melon was hollow in the center, like so many Black Diamonds, of which the Tom Watson is a derivative. Unfortunately, the flesh of the melon was stringy, and I was forced to admit that the Tom Watson watermelons simply didn’t taste very good.
A week or so later, I harvested the largest melon and I knew I had a contender that would surely challenge the older growers. We loaded the watermelon in the truck a week or so before the fair and took it to the farmer’s market just to show it off. One man saw my prized watermelon and offered me $10 for it! I was tempted, but not persuaded. I did enter that melon in the county fair, and I did get a lot of compliments and some jealous rebuking. Some argued that I had probably used “sody” on my plants. I didn’t use any sody, the truth was, I didn’t even know where to get sodium nitrate. I won first prize for my massive fruit, weighing in at 107 pounds. The 4-H leader from the county agriculture extension office said I should take it to Raleigh to the State Fair, but my dad said that wasn’t possible. I went back to the original man who had offered me $10 before the fair and he bought it from me. He was kind enough to let me have a bite, but unfortunately, it tasted as bad as the other one I had tried. Later, I learned that my Tom Watson was indeed bigger than the statewide winner by more than 20lbs, but you don’t get pea turkey squat for watermelon tales.