Monuments of Stone

"Cemeteries hold the stories of the people who lived in the past....

people who have shaped our past."

Audrey Bierhans

McClary Cemetery was begun by John McClary.

The Williamsburgh Historical Society sponsored a cemetery/graveyard tour, "Monuments of Stone," on Sunday afternoon, May 20. Two cemeteries and two graveyards in the area we know as Cedar Swamp but our ancestors knew as Benson were on the tour. 

Over the course of the afternoon I realized that cemeteries hold much more than the bones of the departed. They can, as any genealogist will tell you, fill in blanks on a family tree. But they can also help you learn more about the history of a community, in some instances tell you something just from looking at the tombstone of the person buried there, bring back wonderful childhood memories that have grown hazy, and remind you of legendary figures from the not-too-distance past. I experienced all that May 20.

Tombstone of John McClary (1760-1833) stands among

those of his three wives in the cemetery he established.

At McClary Cemetery on Simms Reach Road, I stood at the grave of John McClary and thought about the contributions he made to the Town of Kingstree. He, along with John Witherspoon, was chosen to lay off and stake every lot in the town of Williamsburgh (now Kingstree) in late 1791 and probably on in to early 1792 as the original stakes had all fallen down. In 1801, he was among those appointed to a committee to oversee the complete resurveying of the town.

Perhaps his most important contribution, though, was that of peacemaker between the Williamsburg Presbyterian and Bethel Presbyterian congregations. The Williamsburg Church, founded in 1736, worshipped in a building in what is now the Williamsburg Cemetery. In 1783, the church employed the Rev. Samuel Kennedy for a term of three years. At that time there were two factions in the church, one that held to the ancient Presbyterian doctrine of Scotland and one that leaned more toward the teachings of John Calvin and John Knox. At the end of the Rev. Kennedy's three years, those who held to the ancient doctrine and were in the majority chose to retain his services while the Calvin/Knox supporters declared that he denied the divinity of Jesus and that as his sermons profaned the sanctuary their fathers had built, they withdrew from the church and built for themselves a church about 50 yards away from the old church. At that time they, as well as the original congregation, called themselves the Williamsburg Church. According to W.W. Boddie, the two congregations held services at the same time each week and because of the close proximity of the two buildings could easily hear what was going on in the other church. "When the congregation in one of these churches began to pray, the other would immediately begin to sing an old familiar hymn," he wrote. 

The animosities became so great that on a hot August night in 1786, members of the Calvin/Knox group, using 100 slaves, tore the original church down, removing even its foundations. They hid the pulpit in Samuel McClelland's hay loft three miles out in the country. The aggrieved church took its case to court where those who had torn down their building were forced to pay damages. With those proceeds the congregation immediately rebuilt.

In 1803, the group that had broken away became known as the Bethel Church and built themselves a sanctuary one mile east of the courthouse on the north side of the road leading from Kingstree to Cedar Swamp. From 1786 until 1828, only John McClary was held in esteem by both congregations. He was a member of both congregations and a ruling elder in each. After 42 years of animosity, he was able to convince the two groups to come together to hear a sermon at the Williamsburg Church on June 15, 1828. After the sermon, Mr. McClary presided over a vote for re-unification which unanimously brought the two churches back together.

An historical marker was erected at McClary Cemetery in 2010.

The graveyard at Cedar Grove Baptist Church.

The graveyard at Cedar Grove Baptist Church on Big Woods Road has some older graves, but it brought back more contemporary memories for me. I knew Ernest Haddock, Jr., as a registered land surveyor in the 1980s when I worked in the County Auditor's Office. He was quiet, almost shy, when he came into the office, but he had a number of interests. I knew he was interested in trains and that he was a talented artist. His tombstone, I noticed, tells anyone who takes the time to look a little bit about his interests. There is a train, pine boughs presumably to note a love for the outdoors, and a line of music. I never knew until I read his obituary in 2008 that he was a lieutenant in the U.S. Army and that he had taught Civil Engineering at Mississippi State before moving back to Kingstree to work as a surveyor.

Ernest Haddock, Jr.'s tombstone gives a glimpse at his interests in life.

Cedar Grove Baptist Church

I wonder if everyone on the cemetery tour didn't stop at some point during the afternoon in front of the grave of a person who triggered a cascade of happy memories from an earlier time that were now growing a bit dim until seeing the name brought them back. For me, that happened in the Cedar Swamp Methodist Church graveyard as I happened upon the grave of Carroll E. Gordon. When I was a little girl, Mr. Carroll was the proprietor of Gordon's Little Grocery on Main Street. Back in those simpler times, my mother called him once a week to place an order for the meat she would need for the coming week because she believed he had the best meat in town. Later in the day, I would see his old car chugging up to our house as he made his deliveries. And every week–every. single. week.–on top of the meat in the big brown bag would be a small paper sack full of candy just for me. For all I know Mr. Gordon may have done that for all the children of his regular customers, but back then, it made me feel like the most special little girl in the world. Such a simple kindness; such a lasting memory.

Carroll E. Gordon (1891-1967)

An old oak tree shades graves in the Cedar Swamp Methodist Graveyard.

The Cedar Swamp Methodist graveyard with the church in the background.

At the Tisdale Cemetery on Cemetery Road you can find the grave of one of Kingstree's legendary citizens. James Ridgeway's tombstone may read "Cooper Jack," but he was Coobie Jack, sometimes spelled "Cooby," and to some people "Coopie," to everyone who knew him, and that would have been everyone in Kingstree and probably in Lake City, too. The stories of Coobie Jack are legendary, particularly the one in which he is said to have approached town employees digging a hole in the middle of the street to ask what they were doing. When he was told they were digging a hole to throw all the fools in town in, he pondered that for a few minutes before asking, "Who's going to cover it up?" 

The tombstone of James Ridgeway, known to all as Coobie Jack.

Coobie Jack was a regular visitor in the Williamsburg County Auditor's office when Noot Montgomery was auditor. I remember two of those visits with great clarity. Each time he came to visit, he'd eventually get around to saying, "Moot, gimme a dollar." And, Noot would reach in his pocket and give him a dollar. However, on one memorable occasion, Noot was engrossed in some county business when Coobie Jack arrived. As he made his famous pitch, Noot reached in his pocket, pulled out a bill and handed it to him without breaking his concentration. All of us in the room jumped when Coobie Jack began hopping up and down and proclaiming at the top of his lungs, "Moot gonna have a heart attack." It took us a few minutes to realize that "Moot" might have a heart attack because instead of a one dollar bill, he had handed Coobie Jack a twenty. After dancing around for a few minutes Cobbie Jack was more than happy to return the $20 for his usual $1 bill. But we could hear him telling the story in other offices as he made his way down the hall.

The gazebo at Tisdale cemetery.

On another occasion, Coobie Jack had come in out of the heat and was in no hurry to depart. He was standing at the high drafting table Noot used as a desk, idly flipping through an American Legion magazine, when he stopped and pointed at something on the page. "Moot, get me this," he commanded. Noot looked at the page and laughed, telling him he believed that was a little bit beyond what he could do. It turned out that a picture of the Congressional Medal of Honor had grabbed Coobie Jack's attention.

Tisdale Cemetery sign.

An afternoon spent in four cemeteries makes you realize that life is short. It also made me wonder: What stories will they tell about us when we're gone?