The following story first appeared in the Summer 2006 Glenmary Challenge.
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In Stillmore, Ga., Still More to Do!
Glenmary keeps reaching out to the poultry workers who have brought
their dreams for a better life—and their Catholic faith—to this forsaken town.
By Father Vic Subb

DOWNTOWN STILLMORE: Former railroad town offers few hints of its former prosperity.

At dawn I would often see the silhouettes of 20 or more people walking along Georgia’s Highway 57. They were making their way to the chicken plant at the south end of town to begin another day of earning a living in Stillmore.

That chicken plant has drawn about half of the town’s 900 inhabitants. These 450 residents are Spanish-speakers from Mexico or Central America. (Another 500-plus Hispanics work in the same chicken plant but live in trailer parks just outside of town.)

Shops and banks dotted the main street of Stillmore in its heyday in the 1940s and ’50s. But they are all gone now. The only places to shop today are a small convenience store and two Mexican stores. Last year’s big news was the opening of a laundromat. This year’s big news has yet to happen.

The town’s small poultry processing plant began to grow in the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s—giving hope to the locals who felt opportunity had passed them by once the railroad no longer ran through their town.

But when Hispanics started to arrive to work in the plant, the town began changing. Older homes that once accommodated middle-class families were turned into rooming houses for poultry workers. Trailer parks sprang up in the pine woods off the roads leading into town where spaces in falling-apart trailers are rented at $100 per month per person—with up to 15 people packed into each trailer.

Over the five and a half years I served in this area, I heard several Glenmary coworkers say that visiting the trailer parks of Stillmore was like visiting a Third-World country.

The Hispanic population that began arriving in 1996—and continues to arrive today—is almost all Catholic. Very few have cars, so attending Mass in Glenmary’s neighboring missions in Swainsboro (13 miles away) or Metter (12 miles away) is not an option.

Sometime in 2000 about 20 men from the same state in Mexico, San Luis Potosi, approached me. Their leader was a man named Hilario. I had first met him when he came to South Georgia as a seasonal onion worker, and I had asked his help in reaching out to the Hispanics in Stillmore. Hilario put it this way: “These young guys need to go to Church. They need something positive in their lives.”

Many of the poultry workers, away from home and in a strange land, were in their teens. The Catholic Mass was a connection to their families—and their families’ values—back in Mexico.

I celebrated the first Catholic Mass in Stillmore on New Year’s Eve in 2000. We crowded into a rooming house where Hilario and other poultry workers lived.

Then, when Sister Pat Himmer arrived a month later as a Glenmary multicultural worker based in Metter, she and I surveyed Stillmore for a more suitable space to gather for Mass. Our only choices were boarded-up buildings—all unsafe for a gathering. Finally, we inquired about the community center—a small one-room building with a kitchenette. We were able to rent it for $25 per Sunday—provided no one else requested its use.

Eighty people crowded into that community center for our second Mass in Stillmore. Music was provided by a group from Swainsboro. There was great excitement. Afterwards, several of the young men came and asked, “Can we have Mass here in our town every week?”

Glenmary missioners have been trying to respond to that request ever since—with either a Sunday Mass or a Communion Service.

Everyone who attended those subsequent Sunday gatherings, of course, worked in the poultry plant. But each came for his or her own reasons. Hector, about 22, had made a promise to the Lord not to drink anymore—but he needed the strength of the sacraments to keep it. Juan and Rosa (one of a growing number of married couples who both work in the plant) wanted to have a child—and sought the intercession of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Felipe, about 18, wanted to let his mom in Mexico know that he was going to Mass. “She will cry if she knows I am trying to be a good boy,” he said with a smile.

Life in Stillmore is hard for workers at the chicken plant. Low wages; long, irregular hours; no health care; and working conditions with extreme variations in temperature. Some of the women told me how they had to wear three pairs of pants to keep warm—even in the heat of summer.

The Sunday gatherings of the Catholic community in Stillmore provided a welcome reprieve from the chicken plant—and an opportunity to socialize with friends. Before long a regular pattern developed: a prayer group at noon; adult religious education at 1 p.m.; Mass or Communion service at 2 p.m.; and English class at 4 p.m.

The community center (aka “the church”) also provided a point of reference in confusing new surroundings. Often people would say, “I live two blocks from the church,” or “I’m just down the street from the church.”

But, unfortunately, the “church” has now been taken away. A new Stillmore town council, with mixed feelings about Hispanic presence, decided in November 2004 that it was not appropriate to hold regular church services at the community center.

What to do? Options were severely limited because we needed something within walking distance of people’s homes. But every inquiry to rent a building or another church space brought a negative response.

But the desire of the people to gather was stronger than ever—and more and more young people wanted to come to church.

So we began gathering each week at a different home. I remember Rosa sweeping the ground outside her trailer in order to make “a beautiful space” for our Mass which was celebrated on a makeshift table beneath a large tree. I remember Alejandro holding preparation for First Communion in a tool shed.

During the winter (2004-05), we sometimes had to call off Sunday gatherings because of cold weather. Then, during the summer we sweated together under the Georgia sun. Finally, we were able to use an old shed next to a parishioner’s rented home. “Pews” were built from boards laid over old tires. On July 17, 2005, my last Sunday as pastor, 26 adults received First Communion.

Then, for a period of about six months, there was no permanent pastor for Swainsboro, Metter or Stillmore. Father Bob Bond filled in for several months and celebrated Mass at the shed on a regular basis. And Father Steve Pawelk and I filled in as we could. When Father Bill Smith took over during the winter months, the gatherings had to be canceled due to the weather.

In March 2006 Father John Brown arrived to serve as permanent pastor of Swainsboro, Metter and Stillmore. He is facing many challenges. There is still no church building in Stillmore—but there is a ton of faith.

I am so proud that Glenmary continues to minister in Stillmore. This is just the kind of neglected place and these are just the kind of neglected people Father Bishop founded Glenmary to serve!

Father Vic Subb has been the director of the Glenmary House of Studies in Hartford, Ky., since August 2005.

More articles about Glenmary's work with immigrants living in the home missions.