After the blog post about Burroughs Hall, there were several requests for more posts on the people and places that became part of the winter colony in Kingstree and Williamsburg County. Here is an article, again written by Laura C. Hemingway, published in the News & Courier on February 24, 1931, shortly after Springbank was purchased by three northern financiers.
Springbank
Source: Williamsburg County: A Pictorial History
Springbank, a colonial home reminiscent of other days when history in Williamsburg County was in the making, has been sold to a trio of New York financiers: Robert Goelet, a retired banker; Baxter Jackson, vice-president of The Chemical Bank and Trust company of New York; and Howard S. Hadden, a member of a national advertising firm. These men have visited Kingstree several times to hunt quail.
Robert Walton "Bertie" Goelet (1880-1941)
He is best remembered for financing the construction of the
Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center in New York.
The house will be completely renovated without and within and restored to its original attractiveness, care being taken to preserve the colonial effect on the exterior and interior. It will be furnished with antique colonial pieces, it being understood from those who have it in charge that collectors are already seeking these in neighboring cities. The grounds stretching away from the house will be landscaped. The deed covers 182.5 acres of land, and the northern financiers have leased for a quail preserve approximately 6,000 acres nearby.
Springbank is one of the oldest homes in Williamsburg County. The date 1782 is carved on the massive chimney on the west, presumably the year of its completion. It was originally built by a member of the Burgess family of the Hebron community. Later it was passed into the possession of the McElveen family who owned it until a few years ago. It takes its name from a small stream running nearby that had the habit of springing up at night and flowing. This was called "Springbrook."
The house is built of heart timber, all sawed by hand in a day when time was not at a premium and a house was not built for temporary use, but for generations. The sills are massive as are the pieces of framing, all put together with wooden pegs. The nails, hinges, window latches are all hand-forged, having been made by the plantation slaves. The brick, too, were made by the slaves.
The process of building a home in those leisurely days is interesting in this twentieth century when a ready-made house may be delivered almost overnight. Each slave was assigned a task of sawing out with a whip saw 350 feet of lumber a day. The slaves usually worked in pairs. They went into the "forest primeval" and cut down a tree, taking care to block off the sap with a club axe. They then took a broad axe and hewed it, leaving the timber as smooth as any modern plane could make it. They next sawed the tree into a desired length, then they carried it to a pit that had been dug out in the ground. In this pit a slow fire of oak was kept burning, much as that used today for the cooking of a barbecue. Over this the green timber was placed on racks to dry. This required several days, the fire burning continuously, day and night.
The timber was then placed above another pit, one man working in the pit and one above, using a rip saw to divide it into proper lengths.
With the timber provided for the building of a home, the next consideration was brick. In those days, "necessity was the mother of invention" surely. The brick were needed, and they were made on the plantation. A brick mill was put up on the place near available clay soil. Four upright posts were securely driven into the ground four feet apart, forming a square. Boards were nailed on the inside of the posts to form a smooth box. A sill having a dent in the middle was placed on the ground midway of the sill. An upright piece was set in the dent. To the top of this was fastened a timber called a slant beam, cut with a groove similar to those used today on the low-country syrup mills. To this, a mule was hitched, and he trod around and around to grind up the clay. To the upright pieces within the box-like mill, flanges of board had been attached at alternating intervals to act as paddles during the grinding process.
Clay was dug from the ground, thrown into the mill, mixed with water, and ground by the plodding mule or ox. A table-like structure was placed beside the mill. On this a two-brick mold awaited the ground clay that was emptied into this and smoothed off with a board. Quickly the mold was carried to a sunny spot where the brick were turned out by a deft hand. The mold was then dropped into a barrel of water to clear it for other brick. Like ancient Israel in Egyptian captivity, the slave had a task set him of 1,000 brick a day, but he went about it methodically and sang as he worked.
If the sun shone for thee days in succession, the brick makers were "in luck." The bricks were then reversed where they remained on edge two more days, exposed to the sun's rays that hardened and set the clay. The brick were stacked in rack form underneath a shed where they awaited cooking in a kiln. The kiln varied in size according to the number of brick to be treated. A kiln 20 to 30 feet in length could accommodate 50,000 brick. This would require six furnaces made of brick extending across the width of the kiln. The kiln itself was made of brick, having only sides and ends. Should rains descend while it was in operation, the slaves quickly plastered it over the top with a mud mixture. The furnaces were fired from each side with wood blocks cut in four-foot lengths and thoroughly dried out previously. The fire, once started, had to burn continuously at a uniform temperature for five days and nights. If the temperature chanced to vary, "mush" brick were turned out, and these were no good.
Many of these brick went into the making of the old house called Springbank. In addition to the massive chimneys, the original steps were made of the brick, and the curved driveway leading from these steps at the side of the house out to the old carriage block in the front. The bricked landing of the steps was used as a carriage mounting block or for horseback riding.
When Springbank was built, folk knew nothing but to live-at-home. Practically everything was raised on the plantation for the comfort of the white folk and the negroes. The clothing came from the cotton fields, hand presses, or later those turned by mules being used, and the ginning done by hand. Food, including the rice, even, was gathered from the fields and pastures. The large smoke house could not hold all of the meat butchered on the plantation. Nearby was a commissary where the soldiers of the Confederate army were provisioned when in that community guarding it against the approach of Potter's Raiders. In this was a false floor through which the great troughs of meat could be lowered when the enemy was reported to be advancing.
Speaking of the meat butchered recalls to the memory of those who formerly lived on this plantation various tales typical of the South and told by the slaves. Springbank would be less interesting if it had not a ghost to enliven its history. Near it stood a giant catalpa tree measuring five feet in diameter. In this a huge limb protruded upon which perhaps a hundred deer have been butchered. It was to this limb old Maum Peg declared she saw tethered a horse having the head of a man. This "ghost" became the favorite topic on the plantation in the "quarters." One night, Daddy Sid was wandering through the swamp along the bank of the little stream when he saw this apparition. He fled post haste to Maum Peg's cabin to pour into her ears his tale of woe. Thereafter, they all kept close to quarters after dark. When it became necessary for any of them to go into the swamp at night in search of firewood, they always carried with them an open knife, claiming this acted as a talisman.
Daddy Jake Epps did not favor hunting during young moon. Only spirits would be treed by the dogs, he insisted. But one night he was convinced to go 'possum hunting in spite of the young moon. Sure enough, the dogs treed what gave every indication of being only a spirit. The torch failed to reveal any animal in the tree. Finally Daddy Jake was prevailed upon to climb the tree to investigate more closely. He did so reluctantly only to report there was nothing there. Once he was safely on the ground, others in the party took the torch and slowly scanned the tree, finally succeeding in catching the gleam of two infinitesimal gleams of light on a lower limb, which turned out to be a baby 'possum.
Maum Peg, however, was never convinced that she had not seen a ghost ascending the stairs of Springbank.
Many hereabout are glad that Springbank is to be reclaimed. It has had a history in more ways than one. When the postal system was in its infancy through this section, Springbank was used as a post office for the Hebron community. Mail was carried there from Kingstree in a locked pouch, via horse and buggy. It was placed in the house and remained there until the people of the community found time to call for it. Delivery of mail in those days was a leisurely affair.
