Turkey Thieves Outwitted By Small Boy

In last week's story of wild horses in the street, we met Will Graham and Tom Mitchell, who were employed by M.F. Heller at his livery stable and who helped Otis Arrowsmith get the wild horses to the stable and later helped him "break" them. I wondered if there were any more stories about these two men.

Although not the turkey involved in this story, this is an example of a gobbler.

Will Graham likely paid the Town of Kingstree $2 in taxes in 1904, but as there were an abundance of Will Grahams living in the area at the time, it is difficult to determine with any certainty which one Bessie Britton mentioned in her story. Tom Mitchell, on the other hand, is easy to find, and there is another interesting story associated with his family and in which he participated.

Born in North Carolina, Thomas Ashley Mitchell, was living in Kingstree on Logan Street in 1910. He and his wife Hattie had been married for a year at that time, and he was working for Mr. Heller at the livery stable, according to the 1910 census. He was still working for Mr. Heller when he registered for the draft in 1918. 

However, by 1930, he was a farmer, living with his family about two miles outside Kingstree. His family at that time included Hattie, two daughters, Mary and Virginia, two sons, George and Ashton, and his nephew Samuel Conyers, whom he had adopted as a son. In March 1933, one of the sons–the News & Courier account of what took place does not give his name–was an eyewitness to a crime. Samuel, who would have been about seven years old at the time, seems the most likely to have been the one involved, although it could also have been Ashton, who would have been age 10.

The youngster was playing in the Mitchells' yard when he noticed a car stopped near their property. He did not recognize any of the four men who got out of the car. Curious, he stopped his play and watched them closely. According to the News & Courier article, "One of the men...shot down a fine bronze turkey hen which belonged to a flock Mitchell was raising for M.H. Jacobs, a Kingstree merchant."

M. H. "Uncle Monty" Jacobs

While the men busied themselves with getting the turkey in the car, the little boy quietly slipped close enough to the back of the vehicle to see the license plate. He quickly memorized the numbers on the plate, repeating them to himself several times as he waited for the men to leave. Once they did, he hurried inside and told one of his sisters what he had seen. She wrote down the numbers he had memorized from the license plate before telling their father. 

Tom Mitchell called the sheriff's office to report what had happened. The sheriff then called Columbia and was told that the vehicle was registered in Charleston. The sheriff put out the word that he was looking for the car which carried that license plate, and later that evening got a call that it had been spotted at a service station in Kingstree. Law enforcement officers detained the four men, finding that two of them were carrying concealed weapons. The also found the unfortunate turkey, which was still in the vehicle,

Mr. Jacobs declined to press charges against them for shooting his turkey, but the two with the weapons were each charged $25 for carrying a concealed weapon. Once their fines were paid, all four men were allowed to go on their way.

Tom Mitchell's tombstone in Greenlawn Cemetery, Kingstree.

As for Tom Mitchell, he moved back into town before the 1940 census, which lists him living on Longstreet Street. He died in 1958, aged 79. He is buried in Greenlawn Cemetery.

Wild Horses in the Street

 My interest in local history started on a day 15 years ago when I read an old Bessie Britton column, published in The County Record in November 1964. The picture it painted of Kingstree in the early 1900s intrigued me, and I wanted to know more about the town of that era. I still like to re-read the column that started it all for me, and I thought today might be a good time to print it here. For those of you who have read Remembering Kingstree: The Collected Writings of Bessie Swann Britton, you can take a day off, unless you, too, want to re-live this particular moment. Here is the way Miss Bessie told it:

Academy Street in the early part of the 20th Century a few years after

wild horses were often driven down the street to the livery stable.

Note the white picket fences on either side of the street.

"Long ago there wasn't a paved sidewalk, much less a paved street in Kingstree. It was well the big front yards were enclosed in white picket fences for us young fry to hang over as we watched the activities of livestock rambling around at will.

"The incomparable thrill for us was when word spread by grapevine telegraph (we had never seen a telephone) that two or three boxcars of wild horses from Texas or Missouri would be unloaded shortly. They were on the Atlantic Coast Line siding near the old, wooden railroad station, which we called the depot about a mile north of town. Note: This depot was located where Kelley Street crosses the railroad today.

"Mothers hastened to collect offspring and trekked to various piazzas which would provide grandstand views of the parade on its way down long Academy Street to M.F. Heller's Livery and Sales Stables which was centered a block into the business district. The big, L-shaped corral, which we called the lot, behind the stable had sturdy double gates opening on a side street.

"The star of the show was a tall, lanky youth with straight black hair, merry brown eyes, and a gift of gab. Otis Arrowsmith was later to become a state legislator, but then he was working for his prosperous uncle, M.F. Heller, a town character if I ever saw one, who owned the stables. As Otis expressed it, he was "Uncle Mike's stable boy and the horses' chambermaid."

Otis Arrowsmith years after he led the wild horse parades.

"Children adored Otis, who was never in too much of a hurry for a word with us. Better still, he never disagreed with us, and anything we said or did was absolutely right–our parents just didn't know what they were talking about.

"The said parents didn't think as highly of Otis as we did. He was the one person in our lives, then or later, who told us only what we wanted to hear, the truth having nothing to do with the case.

"It was Otis's responsibility to get the new horses from the depot to Mr. Heller's lot, so at the appointed time, he mounted a beautiful white steed whose long tail almost touched the ground, and he went at a leisurely cantor to the siding. There, he stopped a short distance opposite the unloading chutes and calmly waited, his own horse's head toward town.

"Presently, Tom Mitchell and Will Graham, who had worked years for Mr. Heller, opened the boxcar doors and fanned the wild stock out–with their hats, by gum!

"The instant the first excited horse emerged, his eyes rolling wildly, business picked up. Otis gave a loud, attention-drawing whoop, touched his heels to his own steed and was off like a streak, his horse's tail a long, white streamer behind him, the back of Otis' white shirt billowing like a sail in the wind. 

"One by one, the new horses hit the ground running and took off at full speed after the white horse. For reasons unknown to me, they would not follow the lead of a dark horse.

"Every few moments, Otis, who could pitch his deep voice like a foghorn, threw a quick glance behind him and bawled, 'Cope! Cope!' Don't ask me what "cope" meant. I don't know, but those crazed animals did. 

"They followed Otis, who was crouched low over his saddle, as if their lives depended on catching up with him. Down the unpaved streets they pounded, dust flying, squawking fowls fluttering right and left, dogs yelping in frenzy. 

"'Cope!' bayed Otis to the tune of flying hoofbeats, only interrupting his call to choke on laughter when he chanced to see one of his own cronies skeedaddling to safety.

"The new stock followed the flying streak until it led them straight through the big gates that slammed shut behind them. Only then did they realized they had been corralled. Some tried to kick the wooden fences down, but things were built for permanence in the good old days. 

"Looking back, I marvel that nobody got killed or maimed. Was it expert human organization or the grace of the Lord? Pure luck could not have held so consistently.

"The fact that it was also Otis's responsibility to break his Uncle Mike's new horses to harness before they could be offered for sale daunted him not a whit. Nobody had ever seen an automobile in this agricultural area. Horses played a big part in the way of life, not only of farmers, but of townspeople as well. Most men were good judges of horseflesh, and horse swapping was the order of the day.

"At times, when extra-fine animals were involved, the moves were as slow, skillful, and tedious as a game of chess in the hands of experts–and lasted as long. Often bets made at the outset were raised as time went by, a secret carefully kept from wives who disapproved of betting.

"Both trading and betting were strictly honest. If a man's word wasn't his bond, that individual was held at a distance by responsible men. But pity the slick stranger who appeared from nowhere and let it be known he had a few horses he wouldn't mind parting with. Then there were no holds barred. If occasionally the stranger managed to outsmart the local lights, that gave them something to rehash for months to come and better prepared them to fleece the next traveling crook before he could fleece them.

"In those leisurely days, nobody was in a hurry, so Otis, Tom, and Will tackled the job of breaking the new stock one by one. First, a horse was lassoed in the lot in which no children were allowed. Then he was blindfolded and a bridle put on him, which was in itself no small achievement. 

"Once the men had managed to hitch the horse to a light vehicle (I think it was called a sulky, and now I'm wondering if the name had anything to do with the horse's attitude.) he was led through the big gates to the side street where children waited on fences, bannister railings, rooftops and in trees, depending on age and sex. There the blindfold was removed, and the show was on.

Academy Street today looks very different from the way it 

looked when Otis Arrowsmith led the parade of horses down it.

"The black sulky glistened like polished patent leather, and its two wheels were bright red but had no rubber tires; they were to appear a few years later. Also, it had extra-long shafts. A horse, wild with fright, could kick all he pleased, but his flailing heels could not reach the sulky behind him, nor Otis who was perched on the narrow seat that had no back. If, at times, the excited animal's gyrations succeeded in upsetting the vehicle, Otis was expecting just that and landed lightly on his feet, still holding the reins and still talking in soothing monotones to the frightened beast.

"Occasionally, when Otis used the long buggy whip on a trembling, foam-flecked horse, we chicken-hearted little girls wept and silently prayed to the Lord above to let the horse kick our adored Otis into the middle of next week, or else bite his head off. But we prayed with eyes wide open, still watching in horror 'til the exhausted beast was conquered by man and began obeying his master's will.

"Children are quick to forgive, and when we yelled, 'Goodbye, Otis,' he gave us the high sign but didn't look back. We yelled goodbyes, in turn, to Tom and Will, who favored us with waves and broad smiles as they headed back to the corral. Tom, who called every child 'Baby,' shouted, 'You-all can come out and play now, Babies!'

"Will added, 'But you-all had better play on the sidewalk. The new horse will be back to-reckly.'"

Bloodshed in the Courtroom

In the last post, John R. Lambson made a brief appearance as one of the defense attorneys for the five men accused of breaking in and setting fire to a store owned by Sheriff S.P. Brockington. This, however, was not the first trial in which Lambson was involved that received national attention.

The Williamsburg County Courthouse where an 1880 trial resulted in gunshots fired.

Two years earlier, on May 26, 1880, he was a defense attorney for W.W. Ward in a trial that led to the discharge of a firearm in the courtroom of the Williamsburg County Courthouse and subsequently to headlines in major newspapers across the nation.

A native of North Carolina, Ward had made Kingstree his home by 1860, where he opened a grocery store. By 1867, he was elected a warden (town councilman) for the Town of Kingstree, and by 1870, he had also run for and been elected Sheriff of Williamsburg County.

His store was one of those burned in the fire of 1873 in which all the stores on Main Street across from the courthouse were lost. 

In August 1872, Ward was appointed to the election commission for Williamsburg County. However, in 1874, the Grand Jury for Williamsburg County indicted Sheriff Ward, along with all three Williamsburg County Commissioners and County Treasurer Phillip Heller.

The Commissioners, William Scott, Robert T. Scott, and Ambrose Tisdale, were charged with misconduct in office for making contracts with themselves and then paying themselves based on the contracts. Treasurer Heller was indicted for paying out county funds without sufficient orders to do so, and Sheriff Ward was charged with "offering bribes to certain executive and judicial officers with intent to influence their acts and decisions in the discharge of their official duties."

It should be noted that this was during Reconstruction, and political differences during that time were deep and vicious. Whether the charges against these five men were legitimate or based on political differences is hard to determine from our vantage point. It appears that, at least in Ward's case, he remained Sheriff until the 1876 election when he was defeated. There is also some evidence that he refused to acknowledge his defeat and leave office, although he was no longer sheriff when he was tried in May 1880.

The case that led to the excitement in the courtroom in May 1880 began in March 1879 when Ward was involved in a foreclosure case, James Harper v. W.W. Ward. Ward held a receipt of Harper's for $2,400 in payment of a bond but which Harper denied signing. Judge Mackey, sitting in equity, declared the document a forgery and ordered that Ward be indicted on charges of forging the document.

The case came to trial in late May 1880, with Richard Dozier handling the prosecution and Pressley Barron and John Lambson providing legal counsel for the defendant. The trial took two days, with the jury of 10 white and two black men reaching a guilty verdict on Wednesday, May 26.

"The most exciting and tragic scene that has ever occurred in a court in this state was enacted here today..." began news stories about what happened next.

After the verdict was announced, Judge Aldrich instructed the sheriff to take Ward into custody. The news reports state, "Ward, who was sitting inside the bar of the court, and who was perfectly sober, deliberately arose from his seat, drew his pistol and fired at (James) Harper one time and at W.K. Lane, one of the witnesses."

The shot missed Harper, but Lane was wounded in both hands, although not seriously. Several men jumped on Ward, disarmed him, and took him to jail. 

News stories also noted, "When the shooting occurred, Harper and Lane were both sitting inside the bar, which was crowded with lawyers, officers of the court and citizens, all within a few paces of Ward."

One of the balls fired buried itself in the wall of the courtroom, while the other had not been found, according to news reports.

"Great consternation and excitement prevailed in the crowded courtroom, and one or two Negroes jumped out of the windows to the ground, a distance of 25 feet, uninjured."

Judge Aldrich issued a warrant against Ward for assault and battery with intent to kill, but later sentenced him to seven years in the penitentiary for the forgery. He is listed in the 1880 census as an inmate whose profession had been grocer. According to several public family trees on Ancestry.com, Ward died while incarcerated on September 4, 1880.

As for John Lambson, he was a native of New Castle, Delaware, who, after serving in the Confederate Army, relocated to South Carolina. He apparently was a man of some means who set himself up in a mercantile business and also engaged in lumber and naval stores (turpentine). However, he was not successful and in 1877 entered the practice of law with H. Pressley Barron of Manning. Lambson was elected to the Legislature in 1878. His story, too, came to a tragic end when he died by suicide on October 29, 1882.