Hello everyone, Winnie Griggs here. I recently completed a short Christmas novella titled The Wrong Christmas Match. One of the pivotal scenes in the story involves a box social, so naturally I had to do a little research to make sure I got the details right.
I was already familiar with the fun story possibilities of these gatherings – the mystery, the bidding, and the chance that a gentleman might find himself sharing supper with the woman he hoped had prepared it – or that a woman might share hers with the gentleman she hoped would win it.
What I hadn’t realized was just how much those suppers could accomplish for an entire community.
For anyone unfamiliar with the custom, the basic idea was simple. Women and girls prepared meals for two and packed them in decorated boxes or baskets. The containers were presented anonymously and auctioned to the men. The winning bidder received not only the food inside but also the company of the woman who had prepared it for the duration of the meal.
The secrecy naturally added fun and suspense to the bidding. So did the possibility that a young woman might find some discreet way to let a favored gentleman know which box was hers.
But despite all that romantic potential, courtship wasn’t the official purpose of the evening. The money was.
Box socials were an ingenious way for small communities to raise funds. They didn’t require expensive supplies or professional organizers. Each woman contributed what she could make in her own kitchen, an auctioneer supplied a bit of showmanship, and neighbors supplied their coins – and perhaps a healthy dose of friendly competition.
The resulting funds could then be put toward whatever the community needed most.
Newspaper accounts and community histories from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries offer some fascinating real-life examples.
One box supper held in the Taney City schoolhouse in Missouri benefited the local Sunday school. A newspaper account described the event as well attended.
In December 1897, the Daily Oklahoman announced a box supper at a new schoolhouse in Council Grove, Oklahoma Territory. The proceeds were earmarked for reading-circle books and a school library. The newspaper made the auction arrangements quite clear: the boxes would be sold to the highest bidder.
Books appear to have been a popular goal. One account from Texas recalled a box-supper fundraiser held for the library at a one-teacher school. Cowboys from a nearby ranch joined local farmers and ranchers for a Saturday-night dance and the auctioning of decorated supper boxes. The highest bidder received the meal and the company of the woman who made it – or, as the account rather amusingly put it, she “got to, or had to,” eat with him.
Not every school needed books. Some needed equipment that would otherwise have been difficult to afford.
Students at a public school in Geary, Oklahoma Territory, held a box supper to help purchase an organ. The local newspaper reported that the event was well attended and that the boxes brought anywhere from thirty cents to $2.50. It also credited the auctioneer with doing his part to keep the bidding lively.
Another Oklahoma box supper raised money for a community Christmas tree planned for the following week.
That example especially caught my attention. It shows how easily the box-supper idea could be adapted to the particular needs of a town and the season. The money might purchase books, support a Sunday school, provide music for school programs, or help make a community Christmas celebration possible.
And, of course, the evening offered benefits that couldn’t be measured in dollars and cents.
Families who lived miles apart had a reason to put aside their chores and gather in one place. Neighbors shared news, children enjoyed the excitement, and young people had an acceptable opportunity to spend time together. Everyone could contribute to a worthwhile cause while enjoying food, laughter, and a bit of suspense as each box went on the auction block.
I love the practicality of it. These communities took things they already had – cooking skills, simple ingredients, creativity, generosity, and neighborly spirit – and transformed them into something they needed. And if a romance happened to begin over a plate of fried chicken and biscuits, so much the better.
Reading these real-life accounts gave me the little details I needed to make the scene in my story feel authentic. They also helped me envision how the residents of Tucker’s Gap might use a box social to meet a need in their own community. In The Wrong Christmas Match, the proceeds are used to provide Christmas provisions for families in need. And, of course, the event creates some interesting possibilities for my characters.
The Wrong Christmas Match is a short novella that will be published as part of a collection featuring twenty-two historical Christmas romances. The collection, A Vintage Christmas To Remember, is up for preorder now and releases October 13. Here are more details:
A Vintage Christmas To Remember
Twenty-two authors. Twenty-two unforgettable love stories. One unforgettable season.
From snow-dusted frontier towns to snowbound Victorian manors to the shadow of war, this sweeping collection brings together twenty-three historical romances all wrapped in the hope of the season. Outlaws find redemption, strangers become sweethearts, secrets come to light, and second chances arrive right on time for Christmas.
Whether you love a marriage of convenience, a rugged cowboy, a mystery with a little danger, or a quiet miracle by the fire—there’s a story here for you!
Fun Bonus!
We created a fun flip-book-style magazine that tells you a little about each participating author and their story in the collection. You can find it HERE and best of all it’s totally FREE!
Now I’d love to hear from you. If your community held an old-fashioned box social today, what foods would you pack in your box? Leave a comment to be entered in a drawing for a signed copy of one of my books.
When Petticoats & Pistols invited me to guest post, I laughed a little. My novel doesn’t take place beneath the big skies of Texas or Wyoming—it unfolds among the ridges and hollers of Appalachian Tennessee. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Appalachian and Western communities have more in common than we often think.
Thanks for playing my puzzles yesterday. I hope you had as much fun as I did.
While sitting in his office, Tim Myers, an Oklahoma cowboy, stared at a picture of Pawnee Bill, a Wild West showman. An unusual inspiration took hold of him and wouldn’t let go. He needed to fulfill a journey–and he needed to do it on horseback.
seven hours, they covered 15-20 miles each day.
She’s lived with his name for three years. He’s never known hers. Until they meet.
Howdy!
