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:
"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."
"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.
"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.'"
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