With pad and pencil in hand, the architectural historian was trying to determine the age of a brick wall during a Vicksburg restoration and, she mused, “Let’s see, this wall was built about ….”

“1948,” Chris Antoine, who was working nearby, interrupted. How did he know? “Because I built it.”

There’s many a brick around Vicksburg that has the Antoine imprint, for that has been a family trade since Chris Antoine’s father and grandfather, both bricklayers, moved here from Mobile in 1927. Three boys in the Antoine family — Chris, Malco (best known as Tiny) and Donald Gene — were all born here. They learned the trade from their father.

“When we got old enough to really start working, my daddy looked at us and he told the three of us, ‘I’m going to give you your inheritance right now. I’m going to teach you how to make a living,’ and, of course, he taught us to lay bricks,” Chris said, reflecting on his career that spanned almost 40 years.

Among the things they were taught were speed and accuracy — you worked fast and you did it right. Bricklayers were paid by the thousand, and when Chris, now 81, began plying the trade nobody talked on the job because “when we stopped to get a drink of water, the money stopped. You could stand up and talk all day, but if you laid only two bricks, you made just 2 cents.” The Antoine brothers averaged between 1,400 and 1,500 bricks a day, each, and Chris said on his best day he once laid 3,300. The work formula was simple: “The more bricks you laid, the more money you made.” Of course, the type of job also determined the speed bricks could be put in place.

Soon after graduating from Carr Central, Chris married his high school sweetheart, Polly Dunegan (that was 63 years ago yesterday). He went to work at WES doing electrical work at 57 cents an hour. A layoff came, but the next day he went to work in town laying bricks at $4 an hour.

Chris had started the trade when he was a kid, helping his dad, learning to mix mortar and do other jobs. His dad worked at WES five days a week and laid bricks on the weekend. After Chris was grown, his dad would come by a job twice a day — on his way to work at WES and when he got off — to inspect his sons’ work and, “If he didn’t like it, he’d kick it down. I told somebody one day it didn’t matter whether they liked it or not because Daddy will be by here later.” He was a tough inspector, and if he tore it down you had to build it back, free, to his standards.

On a hot day, and you’re sweating, grains of sand on every brick you pick up will stick to your hands and work into your fingers, Chris said, “and, the first thing you know, you’ll be bleeding.” His dad showed little sympathy, for all he would say was, “You’re holding the durned brick too long, Pick it up and put it down.”

Technically, bricklaying has been the same for centuries, Chris said, but mortar is different. Not too many years ago, the lime and cement had to be mixed by hand, but now it comes already mixed and you can get it in just about any color. One of the keys to doing a good job is having a good helper, someone who knows how to mix the mortar just right, keep it coming and keep bricks handy. One helper, Chris said, worked for all three generations of the Antoine family, and he could keep six sacks mixed and ready at any time.

Chris has worked with a variety of bricks — face, common, fire and old homemade ones, dried in the sun, their texture depending on the soil. There used to be three or four brick companies in Vicksburg, he said. The bricks used on the old streets are different from others. He doesn’t know where they were made, but they absorb no moisture, so it’s best not to stack them very high, as the weight will squash the wall. The style of bricklaying, he said — whether it be Flemish bond, running bond, basket weave or herringbone — is just for looks.

Chris taught bricklaying at the local Hinds vo-tech campus for seven or eight years. He could have written books about bricklaying, but he said he never read one on the subject until he taught the class. He learned a lot of things that held no value, for most of the information wasn’t practical.

In order to be certified, he had to take a course in psychology, supposedly to learn how to work with his employees. The professor said that if a worker was consistently late, he should be called into the office, sat down and talked to about his problem — to see what could be done to get him there on time.

Chris’ experience had taught him differently. “Where I worked, if you didn’t come on time, the first time they might give you a little blessing out, and the next time you don’t have a job. My professor didn’t appreciate that too much.”

At the end of the semester, the professor asked Chris what he had learned. The reply: “Before I took this class, I would shout, ‘YOU BLANKETY-BLANK SO-AND-SO, YOU’RE FIRED,’ but now I just calmly say, ‘you blankety-blank so-and-so, you’re fired.’”

Anyone who ever worked with Chris knows that one thing he wouldn’t tolerate was laziness, and he said he once had a few choice words with a bricklayer he had hired who did a sorry job. The man said Chris couldn’t talk to him like that, and Chris told him, “I sure can. I’m putting your name on a check. Get out of here.”

Chris laughs about his “school days” at Hinds and told a story of his friend, the late Carl Kelly. Homework was assigned and, on the way out of the building, Carl handed the assignment to Joe Loviza, who was director of the vo-tech, and said, “Joe, if you want this homework done you better do it yourself, because I’m already smarter than I ever thought I’d be.”

Though most of the jobs Chris worked on were house constructions, he also added an addition to Jett School and several other large buildings. He and Bill Ashley formed a company, specializing in restorations, and among their jobs was the Mary Harwood home on Fort Hill Drive, owned by Dr. and Mrs. Lamar McMillin; the Coca-Cola Museum; Sarata on Old Highway 27, the home of O.L. and Carol Duncan; the Old Court House courtroom and other projects; and the three houses on Crawford Street, between Bloom Fountain and Cherry Street, which were restored by Dr. and Mrs. M.E. Hinman. After his retirement, as a public service, he did the brick work for the Varina Davis Memorial Garden on Court Square.

After working with mortar and cement for so many years, Chris developed a skin problem, cement poisoning, and the late Dr. A.J. Messina told him he had to quit work, but Chris looked at him and said, “Well, Doc, you want to get paid?” and the doctor assured him that he did. “Then, how the devil do you think I can get away from laying bricks?”

However, he retired some time ago when his wife, Polly, and children, Ricky, Christy, Mark and Pam, gave him a retirement party at the Old Court House.

Chris Antoine was taught a strong work ethic by his father, and anyone who hired him got far more than their money’s worth. Only twice in 40 years did Chris sign a contract — and those were the only two jobs where he had trouble getting paid.

His word was his bond.

His work was the best.

Gordon Cotton is an author and historian who lives in Vicksburg.