On Seventh Avenue North in Columbus, a brown door swinging open from a brick building reads “Must Be 21.”
Inside this converted pool hall — as evidenced by the lone pool table placed in the middle of the room — Ellis B. Lane sits in a rolling chair and uses a crowbar to scrape blue paint from the concrete floor.
“I just can’t do what I used to do,” Lane said, stopping his scraping occasionally to sweep the loosened paint chips into a dustpan. “I do what I can. It’s like scraping this floor right here. I do it whenever I feel like it, as long as I feel like, then I stop.”
The lifelong Columbus resident has lived 26 years on Northside, most recently in the old pool hall where his bed and other furniture are neatly arranged in the large, open space in the front of the building. For the last three years, Lane has lived alone since his “lady friend” of 31 years died of cancer. But his neighbors, children and grandchildren pop in regularly to see how he’s doing.
Lane, 76, has developed a few health issues of his own. He takes eight pills every day, he said, and he’s trying to find new management for his nightclub, Spotlight Lounge, which shares a parking lot with his dwelling. So far, he’s had little luck.
“Since my health failed, I can’t be around all that smoke and stuff,” Lane said. “A lot of people want to rent it, but they ain’t got any money.”
Lane is content to “retire” when he finally can make a deal, taking little heed of future goals because “I’ve done what I’m gonna do.”
As it happens, Lane has done quite a bit.
He grew up one of nine children in a family of sharecroppers near Columbus, raising cotton and corn on someone else’s land to make ends meet.
“We’d go to the field every morning and work it until it was time to go home, which was right about dark,” Lane recalled. “My mother always told us if you want anything, you’ve got to work for it. … I wanted to do better for myself.”
By the time Lane became an adult, he left the fields determined to make his own way. His first job off the farm was putting bumpers on toilet seats. From there, he landed a few construction jobs and later a post at Murphy Electric. He even worked a few years at The Dispatch, folding and tying newspapers.
It’s been a life for Lane built on two firm maxims: “Keep me a job and keep my hands off other people’s stuff.” He taught his seven children, all of whom are “grown and on their own,” the same rules.
“I hadn’t gotten in any trouble,” he added. “I don’t run with bad crowds.”
Laying down his crowbar, Lane pulls out and unfolds a pocketknife to get a bit more leverage with a particularly stubborn spot of blue paint stuck to his floor. His persistence pays off moments later, and he again sweeps the loose chips into the dustpan.
Lane doesn’t really have a plan for the floor once all the blue paint is stripped, other than to “just walk on it.” The daunting task is bound to keep him busy for months to come.
As he replaces his knife back in his pocket, he looks down at the floor and repeats what seems to be foremost on his mind before deferring his task later.
“No. I sure can’t do what I used to,” he said. “I think that’s about enough for today.”
Zack Plair is the managing editor for The Dispatch.
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You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 32 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
