A First Person Account of WWI Service

Over the past few months, we've looked at the World War I stories of several young men from Williamsburg County. Most of those stories were pieced together from the public record–draft cards, troop ship passenger lists, death certificates, cemetery records, and the occasional news story. However, there is one Kingstree native whose story can be told directly in his own words, as he remembered his time in the Army 40 years later. On August 23, 1958, jazz cornetist Amos Mordecai White recorded an oral history that has become part of the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University in New Orleans. His oral history is almost two hours long and covers much more than his service in the Great War, including information from his early years in Kingstree. If you're interested you can listen to it here.

An older Amos White (right) with his grandson, saxophonist Eddie "Snakepit" Edwards.

Source: snakepiteddie.com

On June 5, 1917, all young men of draft age were required to register. Although working as a traveling musician, Amos Mordecai White dutifully registered in Charleston, South Carolina, which was his base of operation at the time. A year later, in August 1918, he was working the Missouri State Fair in Sedalia, Missouri, as bandmaster for W.C. Miles' band which was that season part of the Cole Brothers Circus.

Amos White says, "I am Miles' bandmaster because Miles liked to play the drums and keep the tempo up. So I had to take over for Miles. ...then is when I really had to cut it because the bulk of the work was on me, playing all these galops and fast marches and segueing from one number to another, you know. You're playing the big show now; you had no white band on the show, so the band would split up and take six pieces and play the sideshow. ... And the other nine pieces would stay and play the circus. I was  always with this nine pieces because the bulk of the work, as I said, was in the big tent. 

"Well, when the commissioners (United States Commissioners Investigators) came through, ...and they asked for the (draft) card, there were about five of us in there who were supposed to be fellows of war age, and I didn't have my card in my pocket. Fact of it is, I had gone to the circus that day in my shirtsleeves because we put on our band coats in the tent. ...'Well, where's your card?' And they got right hostile with me, you know. So, they grabbed me. I say, 'It's down in the privileged car. I'll go down and get it.'

Amos Moredecai White's World War I Draft Card, issued June 5, 1917.

"'No, you won't get anything,' they said. 'We're gonna take you on in. You're expected to have that card on you.' So they took me straight to jail. And then, then I got busy. Miles went up and got my card and brought it to me, but by that time, the commissioners have all gone. So now I got to spend the night there, and this is on a Saturday afternoon.

"Now, this is Sunday, and Miles is off, so Miles came to the jail and brought me my week's salary and some more money. I think he all total gave me about $40. And he brought some clothes to me, and I said, 'Well, I don't need the clothes because I'm going on to the Army, I know it.',,,

"Well, when the commissioners came to sit in Sunday afternoon, and Sheriff Dawes was the sheriff there in Nevada, Missouri. You see, they didn't take me up in Sedalia while there. They took me where the regular United States Commissioners office was, and that was in Nevada, Missouri. They had different points for these places in states. And regardless of the fact that Sedalia was a much bigger city than Nevada, still they took me to Nevada. I've got proof of registration and everything, and they were no longer hostile. ....Three commissioners came in on Sunday afternoon at the request of Sheriff Dawes. Sheriff Dawes said, 'Well, I don't see what they want to keep you in here for. You've proved registration. You've got your card and everything.' Says, 'I'm going to call 'em down there. ...So they made a special trip back there to the jail, and they sat in and said,  'Well, what do you want to do? You didn't have that card on you.' 

"I said, 'I want to go to the service.' ...Well, they sent me on to camp. I rode all that evening. No sheriff went there or anything. And all that night, ...went to Camp Funston. ...Well, I finally reached Camp Funston on one of these old slow trains that looked like–they didn't care how you traveled in those days, you see. Army movements. I reached Camp Funston along about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, might have been a little earlier than that, but anyhow when I got to the gate, I had my trumpet with me, and I had a little bag. I had an extra pair of shoes in there. I don't know why I carried them along. I knew I wasn't going to need them. I didn't think so, anyhow. But anyhow, just to be ready for an occasion. 

"And the sergeant at the gate said to me, 'Where is the sheriff who brought you here?' I told him, I said, 'No sheriff brought me here.'

"'Yes, he did. Where's the man who brought you here?'

He kept on after me, and I said, 'No man brought me here,' and when I said, and I said it kind of forcibly, I said, 'I came unguarded here,' he slapped me, and I didn't say nothing. I just took the little slap and I kinda halfway grinned, but, brother, all the hell and fury had gotten into me then. If I must go to war, don't beat me up before I get in there.

"All right, so he pushed me down through the gate. 'Go on in there.' So, I went in the gate, and I went straight on up the steps. Now my plan of action was already in me. I knew what to do because I had a little military training in the schools. They taught us military training in Jenkins Orphanage. They also carried some good tactics and training in all the colleges down there. They didn't have no regular ROTC, but the orders of the day had to be obeyed in the colleges and in the schools also.

"When I got in, I asked for the officer in charge. They referred me to a Major over there who afterwards became one of my majors–Major Blaine. And I saluted, came to attention. I had no training, but I knew this had to be done. I said, 'Sir, I'm Private Amos Mordecai White, reporting from Nevada, Missouri. I was arrested two days ago for not having my card on me. I had the card, and I came here unguarded. Sheriff Dawes granted me that privilege because he saw I wanted to get in the Army. ...And I says, 'When I came in the gate, the officer, the non-commissioned officer at the gate, slapped me and kicked me and beat me up at the gate.' I put it all strong! (Laughs)

"He said to his orderly, 'Go to the gate and bring that sergeant at the gate here.' Brought this tall sergeant, a walking stem, from Georgia. He says, 'Yes, Sir, Major.' He says, 'Come here.' He called him over to him and he snatched the chevron off first. 'Ah, Sir, Major, what's that for?' And he says, 'For kicking and hitting this man at the gate while he's trying to give you an explanation for coming into the service. Take him to the guard house and put him in there and lock him up and throw the key away until I tell you when to pick it up.' And I laughed. I said, 'HA HA HA.' And when I laughed, the Major told me, 'Shut up and stand at attention!' And I said, 'Yes, Sir!'...

A young Amos Mordecai White

"Well, ...I had no more gotten my uniform on, delivered to me. I didn't even have straps on the leggings around me or anything, when they called and say, 'Fall out! Fall out! Line up! Any of you fellows here, of you 'cruits,' this was old Sergeant Clark talking now, 'know how to typewrite?' I said, 'ME!'

"'Step up. Two paces forward.' Sent me to the office, and I started picking and pecking at the typewriter. I could type correctly, but I couldn't type fast, and I had no keyboard, but I know printing. You see a printing case is almost similar. But any man who can print correctly and observe punctuations and capitalizations, you can type your own letter better than one of these half-handed, ill-tutored, supposed secretaries.

"Well, I typed out a letter for him–typed it out quicker than anybody in there, too. With my nervous self. 'That's good.' So, all right. He dismissed me out. 'Go to your barracks. I'll go over to the YMC, and we'll fall out again in half an hour.'

"Next time, 'Fall in!' We come out again. 'How many of you men in here had any office work experience?' 'Me.' I had experience in everything. But the last call they issued around about six o'clock. you know, the sun is way up. 'How many musicians are in this rank?' 'Me. Me.' Nine fellows down the line held their hands up. Another rank over here the sergeant was asking the same thing over there. About 11 men from over there held their hands up. 'All right, all you men report to the YMC. So into the YMC went about 24 of us. And when we stepped into the YMC, there was a lieutenant there, just out of the Chautauqua band. ...This fellow was already in his first lieutenant's uniform, and they had sent him to take charge of the 816th Pioneer Infantry Band. He held a rehearsal with we 24 fellows. and he says. 'I'll have an early rehearsal tonight at nine o'clock.' This was around six o'clock.

"That night at nine o'clock, we all assembled in there again. He said, 'I'm going to have an elimination contest in here,' he says, 'because I have gotten new orders. I'm going to be a line officer, and there is a promotion for me, and there is a chance for one of you men in this outfit to become the bandleader of this regiment now being formed." ,,, Now this is my second day in camp. He says, 'One of you men in here is going to take charge of the 816th band temporarily because I am going to recommend it to the Colonel in charge here. ... Lt. Col. Potter will be over here in a few minutes because he wants this unit to do guard mount tomorrow.' Okay. Fine and dandy. 

"So, the first thing he put up is Aspire Waltz (hums the tune). You don't want me to sing this. All right. He put up that. So he went all the way down until he came to the, I think C section in there... When he observed his dal segno sign, or da capo, and got back down to that strain, he cut off. 

"Of course, there is a little flair in there. I might as well tell you about it. I had played the waltz before. (Laughs) Wasn't anybody playing but me. He says, 'What's your name?' I said, 'Amos Mordecai White.' 'Step out! Now, fellows, here's your bandmaster. Now, I'll be a line officer and good luck to you. You play a wonderful trumpet.' I was playing then a J.W. York & Sons trumpet, and he had an E.A. Couturier trumpet. That made me have a love for the Couturier horn, and I bought the 10,000th instrument, no, one thousand and some odd, one oh seventy-six. My boy's got–my grandson has the trumpet out there now, one oh seventy-six, designed by E.A. Couturier and Sons, La Porte, Indiana, after he came to America to demonstrate for the Holton Company.

Amos White, playing in San Francisco in 1960. He is second from the left.

"Well, then, that began my tenure with the 816th Pioneer Infantry, and the next five days we were on a train making Liberty Loan drives in the cities. The first city out of Camp Funtston was Kansas City, Missouri. Kansas City, Missouri to St Louis; St. Louis to Indianapolis; Indianapolis to Columbus, Ohio; Columbus, Ohio, to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and strangely we jumped all the way back cross county to somewhere round about where we went up to Omaha, Nebraska to St. Paul, double back in there with about three days riding, making Liberty Loan drives in various cities, and the band wasn't so well-rehearsed but they gave us a whole boxcar, and we sat in this boxcar–they served us meals in there–at these various points, and the Red Cross and everybody was giving us fine food on the route and put berths in there for us, and in those quarters in four days the band became a very well-constructed unit. 

"When I got to Camp Upton, Long Island, why, they had recruited about seventeen more men out of Fort Riley, and they had sent them to me, also. They came–it was William Triggs–a fellow name of William Triggs, who afterward became my first sideman in the band, and then I think I got about four fellows right out of Camp Upton. And the band's strength then was brought up to fully 47."

The 816th Pioneer Infantry shipped out of Camp Upton on October 12, 1918, for Europe. Amos White said he remembered little of the trip across the Atlantic as "I stayed seasick from the time I got on the boat until I got across almost."

Next week we'll look at his adventures in Europe, including an interesting meeting with Capt. Harry Truman.

At the Movies

Although Kingstree no longer has a movie theater, at least four different theaters in three locations served the community from 1914 until 1968. In February 1914, A.J. Reese began promoting the Comet Theatre, located in the McCabe building next to the Courthouse on Main Street. The McCabe building is now the easternmost part of the Alex Chatman County Complex. 

The McCabe building on West Main Street which once housed

both the Comet and the Uwana theatres.

Three reels were shown nightly, with shows beginning at 7:30 and continuing until 10 o'clock. Admission was a dime for adults and a nickel for children. Most silent movie theaters used an organist to provide music for the movies. However, Mr. Reese engaged L.T. Thompson's Kingstree Cornet Band to play several selections during the course of the evening on opening night.

Bessie Britton adds color to the days of the silent movie in Kingstree with her description of Otis Arrowsmith's commentary on the the movies. "Otis's gift for storytelling came into its own when silent movies first hit Kingstree. While the rest of the bewildered audience sat in darkness watching the silent actors cavorting on the screen, Otis kept up a constant stream of explanation to any child near him. No doubt his version was better than the original script, and it at least had the merit of giving the audience some glimmer of what the show was trying to tell them. Once, when the screen suddenly went blank, a ghostly voice from the loft broke the silence, 'One moment please while the operator changes the fillum.' A little boy with Otis piped out uneasily, 'What's the matter?' Otis scoffed, 'Nothing, except the son-of-a-bee has broken the film again.' And without lowering his voice, Otis added, 'Boy, do you want to pee-pee?'"

The Comet did not survive long. By June 1914, the building's owner, Dr. Robert J. McCabe had joined forces with L.T. Thompson of Kingstree Cornet Band fame to take over the theatre, which they renamed the Uwana Theatre.

They remodeled the building to provide moviegoers with a "comfortable experience" by installing opera chairs, elevating the floors in the rear so that every seat had a good view of the screen, and bringing in a number of oscillating fans to cool the building on hot summer nights.

They also bought a new-model motion picture machine and affiliated with the Universal Film Company so that they would have access to first-run films. They made sure to provide six exits with all doors hung to swing outwards so that the theatre-going public would be able to escape quickly in case of fire. They opened at 8 p.m. every night except Sunday. The movies started at 8:30, with two showings each night. Shortly after their grand opening, they held a Saturday afternoon matinee and had plans to offer a matinee every afternoon.

In October, they ran a promotion in which everyone attending a showing would be given a coupon. At the end of the month, the person holding the largest number of coupons would win a set of dinnerware which was displayed throughout the month in the theatre's lobby.

On October 23, actress Mary Pickford debuted on the Uwana's screen in The Sultan's Garden. Music for this presentation was provided by Kingstree's own David Silverman's Orchestra. Shortly thereafter, the Silverman Orchestra began playing at the theatre every Thursday night.

In the Fall of 1914, a traveling photographer came through town and produced two short films, which were shown at least twice at the Uwana. The first showed photos of businesses, residences, and public buildings in Kingstree, while the second starred a number of local babies and young children.

In 1915, the local lyceum (a group which sponsored traveling performers) used the theatre to showcase a number of the performers with whom it had contracted. These performances became a part of the regular programming at the theatre. Regular serial dramas were also a part of the theatre's programming, including The Perils of Pauline and The Exploits of Elaine. In what was apparently a joint venture, The County Record ran a serial, The Diamond from the Sky, at the same time the film serial of the same name was showing at the Uwana.

H.C. Crawford bought the Uwana Theatre from McCabe and Thompson in February 1916. He came with experience in theatre management, having owned the Idle Hour Theatre in Marion. Billing himself as Crawford, The Moving Picture Man, he remodeled the front of the building to look like a "city movie-house." But, by September, he was running this ad in The County Record: FOR SALE: Having decided to enter other businesses, I offer for sale the Uwana Theatre. Business now well-established and making money; a good investment for anyone who wants a good, reliable business. Will sell at a bargain to quick purchaser. For particulars, see H.C. Crawford."

But apparently, there were no quick purchasers as Mr. Crawford was still running the theatre well into 1917. There is a gap in The County Record from March 1918 through February 1919, and at some point during that period, the Uwana Theatre seems to have faded away and The Academy Theatre, located approximately where Holt's China & Gifts is today, took its place as the local movie house. In 1920, C.J. Thompson, the proprietor of the Academy Theatre installed a new musical instrument "wherein is combined an orchestra of 17 pieces. Piano, violin, flute, drums, etc., all operated by electricity and music produced by rolls similar to a player piano."

The yellow and brick building is the likely location of the Academy Theatre.

This enlarged portion of the 1920 Sanborn Fire Insurance Map for Kingstree

shows the location on N. Academy Street for the Academy Theatre.

In September 1922, C.W. Boswell, the same man who made Boswell Beach a local playground, took over the management of the Academy Theatre. He promised the public a "better class" of movies than had been offered in the past.

As early as 1920, there were rumors afloat that a new theatre would be built on the corner of Academy and Mill streets on property owned by W.B. Brockinton. C.J. Thompson, the rumors said, would lease the theatre. However, it appears that these rumors did not immediately produce results. My father and one of his cousins spent childhood summer afternoons during the 1930s at the Academy Theatre, and it seems that the new theatre on the other side of Academy Street, where the Paisley Pearl is located today, was not built until around 1938 or so. The Anderson Theater was advertising its locations in Kingstree and Mullins in 1939. That chain would eventually also own theaters in Hemingway, Myrtle Beach, Manning, and Pamplico.

The building which once housed the Anderson Theater in Hemingway.

The Anderson Theater on North Academy Street in Kingstree can

be seen in the background of this undated parade photo.

Bessie Britton also provides another story, this time involving her son Jack and his African-American friend, Roy Purvis, who had never seen a "talking motion picture. "One Saturday afternoon, Jack took Roy to see a talking Western in Kingstree. The theater was jammed with children whistling and stomping as they waited for the show to begin. At a signal flicker of the lights, they became quiet. Suddenly two bands of horsemen thundered across the screen, the guns of the bad guys and the guns of the good guys blasting away at each other. Roy, who was sitting in the balcony, gave a yell of terror and bolted downstairs and out the door. Jack ran him down and said, 'Come on back. That was just a picture.' But Roy wasn't about to go back. 'I know a gun when I see one,' Roy said, 'and them guns ain't no pictures.' He went home."

This newspaper photo by Ernie Reeves shows the aftermath of 

the Anderson Theater fire in February 1968.

Today, The Paisley Pearl occupies the spot where the Anderson Theater once stood.

By 1968, the Anderson Theater was operated by Louis Watkins of Darlington and Robert T. Saxton of Hampton. In the early morning hours of February 17, 1968, a Kingstree police officer spotted smoke coming from the theater. He called in the Kingstree Fire Department, but the building was totally destroyed in the blaze. The fire was believed to have started in the projection room.