Years ago, tales of the Plat-Eye, or Plait-Eye, were common in Williamsburg County and other areas of South Carolina. However, from several comments on the "You Might be from Kingstree, if..." Facebook page over the weekend, it appears that our rich folklore is not getting passed down to younger generations as it was passed down to us.
We'll start with a comment from Bessie Swann Britton in 1971. During that time, she kept up a lively correspondence with Frank Gilbreath, co-author of Cheaper by the Dozen, but better known in South Carolina as Ashley Cooper who for many, many years wrote a regular column in the News & Courier, called "Doing the Charleston." When he printed bits of their correspondence, he always referred to her as Mrs. BSB of Kingstree. In April 1971, she responded to a mention of the Plat-Eye in a news story by writing to Ashley Cooper, who printed this: "Mrs. BSB writes, 'Here in Williamsburg County our plait eye (as we spell it) comes while we are sleeping and plaits our eyelashes together so we can hardly open our eyes the next morning. That's a sign you need to mend your sinful ways.'"
And that is the version of the plat-eye (plait-eye) story I heard growing up in Williamsburg County in the 1960s. However, in looking over older stories I have found that it is quite a bit different from earlier versions.
Ambrose E. Gonzales, who, along with his brother, founded The State newspaper, wrote about the Plat-Eye in 1918. At that time, he claimed that stories of the Plat-Eye were peculiar to Georgetown and Williamsburg counties. He described plat-eyes as appearing as small dogs or other small animals, but noted that the apparition could also be seen as a wraith along swamps or marshes in which a low-hanging cloud would envelop its victims.
In August 1918, he wrote about Jane, a cook at one of the hotels on Pawleys Island, who was sent on an errand one night by the hotel owner. She was accompanied on her trip down the beach by her estranged husband, Esau. As they walked along, arguing, they surprised a raccoon fishing at the edge of the water. Startled by their voices, the raccoon turned to face them, and as the moonlight reflected off its eyes, Jane went into a panic. As she turned and fled back up the beach, she screamed, "Plat-eye, Plat-eye," at the top of her lungs.
It would seem that these stories were not confined to coastal South Carolina, as Julia Mood Peterkin reported in 1922 from her plantation at Fort Motte in Calhoun County. She noted that plat-eyes were mostly seen in Spring during a New Moon. One of the Black men who lived on the Peterkin plantation told her that you knew you were confronting a plat-eye if a dog ran at your legs and you shot at it, and it turned into a hog. Shoot at the hog, and it would turn into a horse. If you shot at the horse, it would turn into a man with no head, and if you continued to shoot, it would turn into a cloud. Then you run!
In the 1920s and '30s when readers got much information from the daily newspaper, The State published a regular column called "Folk Lore Corner." Here all sorts of folk sayings and superstitions were reported. The University of South Carolina's professor Henry C. Davis was the expert assigned to write about Plat-Eyes and such. He wrote that the Plat-Eye was a pre-Civil War haint, that was especially prevalent in Williamsburg and Georgetown counties. He, too, noted that Plat-Eyes were generally associated with New Moons and small animals, particularly dogs.
He interviewed one field hand who said he had encountered an indistinct form in the twilight one evening that grew larger until the fiery eye of the Plat-Eye appeared and then vanished. Another man recounted driving down the road and meeting a dog which grew larger and larger as its eyes "commenced to jumping" like fingers waving in his face. Then, it, too, vanished. Still another heard hoofbeats, and a great horse appeared. It suddenly vanished, leaving only a small dog running along the road.
Professor Davis wrote that there was a firm belief in Williamsburg County that a plat-eye could be seen if a person placed matter from a dog's eye into his own eye. "No one, probably, is sufficiently anxious to see Plat-Eye to try this means of second sight," the professor wrote.
In the 1930s, a racehorse owned by Mrs. Payne Whitney of Greentree Stables, was named Plat-Eye, and W. G. Vardell raced a boat by that name in the 1959 Mount Pleasant Regatta, according to sports writer Doug Donahue's story in the News & Courier.
On August 9, 1932, the Greenwood Index-Journal published this poem written by Eleanor Humes Duvall of Cheraw. She spelled it platt-eye.
Mind what I tell you, whisper it low–/ When the marsh is red 'cause the sun set so/ The Platt-eye's prowling fierce and thin/ in the dark beyond where the woods begin.
He's like a dog when he first appears,/ a lean houn'dog with a wild cat's ears,/ and he grows while you watch to enormous size,/ but it scares you most when you see his eyes.
He dangles them out till they're long and hot,/ and they crackle and blaze like a light'ood knot–/ Then you'd best to run while your feet still go,/ 'cause he'll use them eyes to trip you, sho'.
And they say if he scares a man too bad/ that platt-eye will drive him crazy-mad!
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