Such a Shame: A Sad Farewell to the Hancock Co. Courthouse

As some of the regular readers of the Chronicles know, I have always been a huge fan of the courthouses of the great state of Georgia. As I mentioned in a previous write-up, the Hancock Co. courthouse, down in Sparta, was one of my all-time favs:

"...perhaps one of the best looking courthouses in our state, especially in terms of the view as you approach it, would have to be down in Sparta, GA (Hancock Co.). That is a great courthouse. As I responded back to him, Hancock’s would probably be in my top 10 (maybe even top 5). Built between 1881-1883, it incorporates a Second Empire architectural design (the same as Covington) and is absolutely beautiful. Hancock Co. is an old county. It’s been around since 1793 which makes it a good bit older than Newton or Morgan, although not quite as old as the original 8 Georgia counties that were created in 1777. Hancock Co. and the city of Sparta, isn’t that far from us, just on the other side of Putnam Co."

Well, sadly, at around 3AM this morning, the 130 year-old courthouse completely burned with only the exterior brick walls still standing. Man, what an absolute shame. Thoughts go out to the folks of Sparta and Hancock Co. That truly was a fine courthouse and due to its similarity to Newton County's, always held a special place in my heart. From my understanding, the two courthouses shared an architect. Probably the last time I saw it in person was about 10 years ago. Such a shame. Another piece of Georgia history gone forever...

This seems like a tough blow for the city of Sparta and Hancock Co. One of the poorest counties in Georgia, it has experienced population loss and a dwindling tax base for some time. Again, my thoughts and prayers go out. You can read more about Hancock and the courthouse here.

Past Piedmont Chronicles: The City of Covington

The City of Covington
*originally published in About Covington in 2009
 
As I mentioned in a previous column, many folks refer to Covington as “C-town.” A friend of mine from Conyers once tried to tell me that Conyers is the original “C-town.” Well...for one thing, Covington is older, and with apologies to anybody who feels otherwise—Covington is the original C-town. Growing up in Covington during the 1980's was pretty cool. Buying G.I. Joe figures at Harper's, getting baseball cards at Leo's, and enjoying vanilla malts at City Pharmacy...it was a good time. The world seemed pretty small and Atlanta seemed like a million miles away. I imagine there are more than a few locals over the age of 40 or 50 who are probably getting a kick out me romantically reminiscing about Covington in the 80's. I'm sure they could tell you how it was in the 50's or 60's or earlier. And I'm sure it was great.

Origins
The city of Covington is the county seat of Newton County. For centuries, the Creek Indian nation had ownership of this area. Newton Co. would be made up of land ceded from the Creeks in 1805, 1818 and the treaty of Indian Springs in 1821. On December 24th, 1821—Newton Co. was formed through an act of the Georgia Legislature. The county was named for Revolutionary “war hero” John Newton.
Questions actually exist as to whether or not Mr. Newton was real...his legend seems to come from the writings of M.L. Weems who was responsible for a lot of the romantic and fabricated tales of the early times of American history including the story of George Washington and the Cherry Tree. If Newton did indeed exist, it seems likely that he was not responsible for the act of heroism that he is credited with and there seems to be evidence that he was considered by some at the the time to be of questionable character and may have actually been referred to as a “thief and a villain.” So, the namesake of Newton Co. may have never existed at all or, if he did, was possibly considered a bit of a no-account.

On April 15th, 1822, the Inferior court designated an area on a hill south of a swampy area by the Dried Indian Creek as the county seat and named it Newtonsborough. The story behind Dried Indian Creek goes like this—a corpse of an Indian was found on the bank of the creek and it was all dried up...it seems doubtful there was any truth to that story. Lots were laid out and sold in May of that year, and the town started to slowly grow. In December of 1822, the state legislature changed the name of the town in honor of Brig. General Leonard Covington who was killed in the War of 1812 and remembered as a hero. Unlike Newton, his legend seems to be legitimate.

The War Between the States
Covington's first direct contact with Union forces occurred in the Summer of 1864 when a cavalry division led by Kenner Garrard was instructed by William Sherman to destroy several of the railroads and bridges in and around Covington. He actually instructed Garrard to avoid any unnecessary molestation of private properties. On July 22nd, war broke out in Covington when an older resident named Presley Jones decided to take on the Yankees by himself. He did manage to kill two of them before he himself was shot and killed. Unfortunately, in order to placate their revenge, the Union forces court-martialed and executed a local man named George Daniel even though he was innocent of any crime.

Despite numerous accounts to the contrary, there seems to be no evidence that Sherman knew anyone in Covington other than the sister of a man he went to West Point with. Actually, there is evidence that Sherman had given strict orders that personal homes were supposed to be off-limits. That only commercial, agricultural, and transportation-related properties were to be destroyed in addition to bridges, trains, and train tracks. Sherman and his troops would live off the land with the actual order being to “forage liberally on the country.” In fact, when Sherman had finally reached Covington himself in November of 1864, he told the Mayor that everything inside of people's houses was off-limits but everything outside was not. While the whole goal of the Georgia campaign was to make the South sick of war, it seems that more times than not, excesses seemed to occur on the flanks or well ahead or behind the main force. At times, the Union forces formed a swath 60-75 miles wide and were picking up stragglers and hangers-on all the while. The most egregious wrongs committed against locals seemed to happen more frequently on the periphery.

After the Civil War, Covington had to deal with Reconstruction. Like the rest of the South, she struggled during that period, but would eventually come through it and grow and prosper.
An interesting and little-known aspect of Covington's history was mentioned in my very first column. By the 1880's, Covington had become somewhat of a “wild west town” and had upwards of a dozen saloons and drinking establishments. Some of these included hotels and general stores, but several were just straight-up whiskey joints where cards could be played and various types of “entertainment” could be found. Liquor could also be bought by the bottle at general stores and druggist shops. The increasing influence of alcohol did start to cause some problems and by 1882, when a man named Will Smith killed two men after drinking and playing cards, the prohibition movement started to pick up some serious steam in Covington and Newton County.

Covington would continue to thrive with the growth of the railroads and would enjoy prosperity for many years. Like every other town we've covered in these columns, the one-two punch of the boll weevil and the Depression were tough. But the town would survive and continue on a path of prosperity. During the 70's, the city would start to attract major industry and with the close proximity of I-20, the town has thrived for the last several decades. Covington is home and I love it. It's a wonderful place.

I believe we have covered most of the towns and counties that this publication covers. So starting with the next column, I'm going to concentrate more on historical people and events rather that geographical areas. Next column, I'm going to write about the tragedy that occurred in 1921 when eleven peons were killed by John Williams.

A View of Georgia's History in the Month of February

One of my favorite websites out there would have to be the New Georgia Encyclopedia. An veritable treasure trove of information, they do such a great job with content and featured articles.

One feature of their page is doing a cumilative history of each month. Going back to 1733, quite a bit has happened of importance during the month of February. Here are some highlights:

• 1733: James Oglelthorpe founded the Georgia colony
• 1777: Georgia's first constitution and her first eight counties are created
• 1825: The Creek Indians sign the Treaty of Indian Springs
• 1883: The Atlanta Journal is launched
• 1964: The Milwaukee Braves officially become the Atlanta Braves

Past Piedmont Chronicles: The Dark Tale of John Williams

In 2010 I wrote a series of four articles in About Covington to Madison Magazine that detailed the horrific tragedy of the killing of eleven black men in rural Georgia back in 1921. It generated a lot of interest and feedback so I ended up adding a dedicated page for it here the Chronicles. It is by far my most viewed post or page showing the interest level in this dark tragedy.  Here are all four installments in order: 


The Dark Tale of John S. Williams, Part I
*author's note: much of my research for this series of articles was found in "Lay This Body Down", a book by Gregory Freeman that details this horrific story. I highly recommend it to anyone wanting to get more in-depth information on this tragic tale.

One of the most heinous crimes to occur in this area happened about 90 years ago. In April of 1921 at the courthouse in Covington, GA, John Williams was found guilty of the murder of Lindsey Peterson, a black peon who had worked on the Williams farm. That in and of itself was bad, but what made things so terrible is that he was also charged in the killings of 10 others--all black men, known as peons, who had worked on the Williams Plantation in Jasper Co., GA. It was a monumental shift in Southern justice as it is widely believed that Williams was the first white man convicted of murdering a black in the Deep South since Reconstruction. The trial was considered one of the biggest in Georgia up to that time and received national headlines as the “Murder Farm” trial.

The word peon is known today simply as a derogatory term; however, years ago it described someone, usually black, who was forced to work for someone, usually a white plantation owner, to pay off fines or debts. Usually, the fine was minor—maybe $5 and for something as simple as loitering. Unable to pay the fine, a farmer could come along and pay it off and the prisoner was released into his custody and the peon would “work it off.” Usually, fuzzy math was employed and the debt would never get repaid. It was a de facto form of slavery and while the Emancipation Proclamation and 13th Amendment had technically ended the “peculiar institution”, the peonage system would last well into the 20th century and all the way to the 1960's in some Southern states. But not in Georgia. After the John Williams case, the horrible practice quickly started to disappear.

This sordid tale started with the escape of Gus Chapman who had been held against his will at the Williams farm as a peon. On his first escape attempt in 1920, he was hunted down and given a terrible beating, but the second time he succeeded and made it to Atlanta. Once there, he was able to meet with two agents of the Bureau of Investigation (the precursor to the FBI) and tell a tale of indentured servitude that included beatings, whippings and improper living conditions. The Feds were looking to get tough on peonage since the awful practice was getting bigger and bigger in most of the cotton states despite being expressly outlawed in 1867.

(Next month: Williams Decides to “get rid of the evidence”...Murder and Mayhem in Jasper, Co.)

 
 

The Dark Tale of John S. Williams, Part II Williams Decides to Get Rid of the Evidence

So Gus Chapman, the escaped peon, met with Agents Brown and Wismer of the Bureau of Investigation in early 1921. The agents believed Chapman and were persuaded by his horrible tale. Other complaints had come into their office about the Williams plantation over the years and with this new information, they decided the time had come to drive out to Jasper County and pay John Williams a visit.

The agents went out to the Williams farm unannounced in mid February of 1921. Williams was away from the property at the time and the first person they spoke to was Clyde Manning, the black overseer of the Plantation and John Williams's right hand man. Manning spoke to the Feds as had been instructed by his boss if this situation were to ever arise. He spoke of Williams as a kind man and said that none of the workers were there against their will and that the conditions were very good. They spoke to several other black workers who all echoed Manning's sentiments. And naturally they would. They were all terrified of this man who had been known to kill peons in the past. And one must remember--this was rural Georgia in the 1920's. Federal agents or not, these men wouldn't be talking. Later, Williams would return and spoke with the agents at length and had seemingly convinced them that all was well. In fact, the facade put up by Williams would have likely worked had it not been for one simple thing: the Feds caught Manning and Williams in a lie over what had really happened to Gus Chapman on his first escape attempt. And that pretty much did it. And Williams knew it.

Williams probably felt like his entire universe would start to crumble if the Feds were able to put together a case against him. In his sick and twisted mind, he may have felt like his only option was to get rid of the evidence-- the ten or so black peons working and living on his farm. The next morning, he went by and visited Manning and told him, “Clyde, it won't do for those boys to get up yonder and swear against us. They will ruin us...we'll have to do away with them.” At first, Manning was hoping against hope that Williams meant they'd have to release them...but deep down inside he knew better and as the conversation went on that cold Saturday morning, the truth became apparent--John Williams wanted these men dead.

When it was all said and done, eleven men would be killed. The first victim was Johnnie Williams (no relation to John S. Williams). Unlike most of the peons, he wasn't drowned in one of the local rivers. Instead, he got an axe to the side of his head and was buried in a shallow grave on the Williams farm.

(Next month: Murder and Mayhem in Jasper Co....The Trial)
 
The Dark Tale of John S. Williams, Part III
Murder & Mayhem in Jasper Co.


The day after Johnnie Williams became the first victim of this killing spree in the winter of 1921, John S. Williams instructed Clyde Manning, his right-hand man, to get John Will Gaither, known as “Big John”, and another of the peons to start working on digging out a well on another part of the plantation. Manning knew that another killing was eminent. And sure enough, while Big John was almost head deep in a hole of Georgia clay, Williams instructed the other man, Charlie Chisolm, to hit him in the head with a pick axe. He did, and Big John died almost instantly and collapsed into his makeshift grave. Manning and Chisolm filled it in and another man had met his death on the Williams farm in as many days.

The saddest part of this whole story, to me, has got to be Clyde Manning. A peon himself, who knew that Williams had killed in the past and wouldn't hesitate to turn his murderous ways on him. In fact, he told him that very thing. “It's your neck or theirs, Clyde... [pick] whichever you think the most of.” Basically—it was help kill these men, fellow black peons that Manning had come to know and love almost like brothers, or end up dead himself. The only possible alternative? Kill Williams and face a certain death probably by lynching. It was truly a tragic situation.

A few days later on Friday February 25th, Williams decided it was time to dispose of a couple more men. He probably decided it wasn't a good idea to have too many more bodies on the property, so he decided that dumping them in the local rivers was his best bet. That evening he went to the peon quarters and told the men that he was going to start letting them go. He decided that he would only take two men that night—John “Red” Brown and Johnny “Little Bit” Benson. Those two along with Williams, Chisolm, and Manning piled into a car and were supposedly on the way to the train station. However, on the way, they stopped the car and Red and Little Bit were tied up with chains and irons. Once on Water's Bridge over the Alcovy River, Williams stopped the car and proceeded to have Manning and Chisolm dump the men over the bridge railing. The two victims cried and pleaded, promising that they wouldn't say anything to anyone. But it was too late. Williams wanted these men dead.

The next night, three more men would be disposed of in a similar manner. This time off of Allen's Bridge over the Yellow River. The three victims—Willie Preston, Harry Price, and Lindsey Peterson (as you'll remember from the first column, he was the first body found and would be the murder victim that Williams would be tried for). Preston and Peterson were the first to be thrown over. Price was actually able to shake loose and with tears streaming down his face told the men, “Don't throw me over.. I'll go over [myself].” So, on that cold February night, he whispered “Lord Have Mercy", and leaned back over the railing.

The next day two more peons would be killed--Johnny Green and Willie Givens. Both would be killed on the plantation with an axe and buried where they fell. A week later, Charlie Chisolm, who had helped with several of the earlier murders, was next. He was tied up with chains and rocks and dumped in the Alcovy. A few days after that, Fletcher Smith would be the last worker killed. He was shot and buried on the plantation.

Next month: The conclusion of this tale—Part IV: The Trial
 

The Dark Tale of John S. Williams, Part IV
The Trial

When it was all said and done, eleven black men who had been working against their will as peons would be murdered (Peonage, as we have discussed through all of these columns, was a de facto form of slavery that would exist in the Deep South well into the 20th century). A heinous killing spree indeed, it had lasted for a couple of weeks and events would unfold quickly soon thereafter. Several days later, two young boys discovered a human foot sticking out of the Yellow River near Allen’s bridge. The Newton Co. Sheriff was contacted and it was discovered there were actually two bodies that would later be identified as Willie Preston and Lindsey Peterson. Over the course of the next several days, more bodies would be found in the Alcovy and South rivers, and the people of Newton and Jasper counties started to realize that there was something very bad going on.

At this point, the story could have easily ended. Once again, we must remember that this was rural Georgia in the 1920’s. Finding the bodies of murdered blacks was not really out of the ordinary during the heyday of lynchings and mob rule justice. But one simple thing changed all that. A co-worker of the federal agents we discussed in the first couple parts of this article forwarded a newspaper article about the bodies being discovered, and Agents Brown and Wismer figured that this was no coincidence. They got involved and with the help of the Newton County authorities and a former peon, they were able to ascertain that these were indeed former workers of John S. Williams.

Knowing that this was would be under local jurisdiction, the Feds realized that they could not really get involved so they enlisted the aid of Hugh Dorsey, Georgia ’s governor at the time. Dorsey, some suspect, was looking to rehab his legacy after the Leo Frank debacle (Dorsey served as that trial’s chief prosecutor in what is widely believed to be one of the worst travesties of justice in Georgia’s history). With Dorsey and the State of Georgia involved and the Feds working in the background, a case seemed possible if the local authorities were on board. They were. The Newton Co. Sheriff and the local D.A. were up for the challenge. The final piece of the puzzle was getting Clyde Manning’s testimony. From there, it all came together and combined with the arrogance and lack of urgency on the part of Williams and his defense team, a very good case was made in court.

On April 9th, 1921, at the courthouse in Covington and with journalists from as far away as New York watching, the jury comprised of twelve white men returned a verdict—Guilty! It was a huge surprise for just about everybody as it is widely believed that John S. Williams was the first white man convicted of murdering a black in the Deep South since Reconstruction. He was sentenced to life in prison. About a month later, Manning received the same verdict and punishment for his role although it seemed he had no choice in his involvement if he had wanted to stay alive.

Manning would die in prison about six years later from Tuberculosis. Williams would die a few years after that after being crushed by a truck. It is believed that this awful event did have one silver lining—it started to bring an end to the awful practice of peonage and would pave the way for more reform down the road.

I know this has been a sad, tragic, and at times, gruesome tale. I made it a point to mention all eleven victims by name during these past few columns. They all lived very difficult lives only to be murdered because a man didn’t want to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Merry Christmas From The Piedmont Chronicles

Merry Christmas, everyone! Here are a few of my past Christmas columns from About Covington to Madison magazine. The first is from 2009 and the second one is a short-story that was published in 2010, and the third is my Christmas Column from 2011. Hope everyone is having a joyous Christmas celebration. Until next time...


Christmas Time’s A Comin’
~from the December 2009 issue of About Covington to Madison~

Hey everyone. So glad to be back with you again. Wow, December already! It’s hard to believe. Time really does seem to speed up as we get older. But the Holidays are upon us once again and that makes me very happy. Christmas…man, it just doesn’t get much better. A celebration of faith, love, and fellowship—it’s obviously a very special time of the year.

What is Christmas exactly? That answer can be as varied as the people you ask. For a lot of us, Christmas is a celebration of the Lord Savior Jesus Christ as we remember his entrance to our earthly world. But Christmas is also simply about love. Love of our fellow man. Love of our families and friends. And love of the things we hold most dear. While Thanksgiving is certainly about giving thanks, Christmas, for me, is just as much about gratitude. It is also about the spirit of giving. But what about the history of Christmas?

The roots of Christmas go back to the Romans. They had a festival called Saturnalia that celebrated Saturn, the god of agriculture, marking the end of the fall harvest and honoring the winter solstice. During the heyday of Rome , this was the festival and was considered the most important time of the year. Other cultures and other peoples in other parts of the old continent also had celebrations around this time of the year. In the early years of Christianity, church leaders were looking for ways to help spread the Good Word, so in the 4th century A.D., they adopted the time of Saturnalia as the “Feast of the Nativity.” Within a couple of centuries, it had stuck and December 25 to this day remains the celebration of Christmas.

For many of us, Christmas always brings back memories of being young and anxiously awaiting Santa. The origins of Santa Claus are as interesting as the origins of Christmas itself. It starts with St. Nicholas, a monk born in the 3rd century who gave away all of his wealth to help the poor and sick. He was known as “Sinter Klass” by the Dutch and this would turn into Santa Claus by the 18th century. The image of Santa that most of us have with his red suit, large belly, and white beard can be traced back to the drawings of Thomas Nast in the 19th century and further reinforced with ads from the Coca-Cola Co. in the 1930’s.

There are many wonderful Christmas stories throughout the annals of history but perhaps there is none better than the story of the WWI Christmas truce. In 1914, on the fields of Flanders  German and British troops were squared off in their trenches fighting a terrible war. Then on Christmas Eve, German troops lit candles and started singing Christmas carols. The British followed suit and in no time, a truce had been called and the fighting stopped. Germans and Brits exchanged gifts, spent time together, and even played soccer. This phenomenon occurred in several other places along the battle lines and in some cases lasted all the way until New Year’s Eve. To me, that is a story that truly captures the Christmas spirit.

One of the key aspects of Christmas also has to be the music! There are so many wonderful Christmas songs. “Silent Night” is probably one of the better known and ingrained of all Christmas songs; it was written in the early 1800’s by a couple of Austrians. Originally written in German, it was later translated to English with a slightly different melody and that version is the one we know today. “White Christmas” has been ranked as the number one Christmas song of all time by several groups and publications. Written by Irving Berlin, the original recording was done by Bing Crosby. Speaking of Bing Crosby, if you want a real treat—search Youtube with the key words: Bing Crosby, David Bowie, and Little Drummer Boy. You will find a magnificent version of that song by two of the greatest artists of the 20th century. The title of this column is a new favorite of mine. I had never heard this song until I played it a while back with the Biggers Family Band—a country, bluegrass-gospel band that I play with from time to time with my wife and her family. But probably my all-time favorite Christmas song has got to be—“Come Home for Christmas” also known as “Bells Will Be Ringing.” Released by the Eagles as a Christmas single in 1978, it is such a great tune.

As I write this column, the calendar still reads November but I am starting to feel an almost child-like excitement for Christmas that I haven’t felt in years. It will be the first Christmas for my little baby girl and I am so very excited. From my family to yours—Merry Christmas &  Happy New Year.

A Good Christmas Indeed

A Christmas Novella by Marshall McCart

~My column (and my first published work of fiction) from the 2010 Christmas issue of About Covington to Madison Magazine including an online-only epilogue~

*****************

Walter was a helluva guy. An old-timer, no doubt, he was pushing eighty and looked and got around about as one would expect. He lived in a little shotgun house just down the way. From about late September until April or so, he would have a fire going in his fireplace just about everyday. And every time you would see him out and about, he'd have a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He'd been smoking a good sixty years and he'd always say with pride - “No breathin' or ticker troubles at all...Ha!!! Shows what them quacks know!”

For years you wouldn't see Walter out in the neighborhood unless you also saw Trigger, his little mutt-of-a-dog that he would walk at least twice a day pretty much year round. Trigger was a darn, good dog--loyal, attentive, and eager to please. He was a fine watchdog as well and was solely responsible for foiling a robbery attempt once a few years back. My God, I tell you, it was a sad day in the neighborhood when good ole Trigger broke his earthly chains and took his reward up in doggie Heaven. Walter was devastated. He told more than once that he “was definitely ready to die now.”

“That's just crazy talk”, I'd tell him. “What about your son...your grand kids? I know you don't mean that Walter.”

“Hell...you know how many times I've seen 'em in the last couple years?”

It started to dawn on me that I hadn't seen their minivan come down the road in quite a while.

“Once! One time dammit! Seems like the prodigal son thinks I ruined his life, that I didn't do a good job raisin' him. Well, I could say the same thing about him and the job he's doin' with his kids, but I don't, you know...I don't do it! It's so easy to judge...”

I really felt for him during that time. I was fond of the old man, you see. I never got a chance to know either of my grandfathers and I kinda adopted him so to speak. We had some great, great times. A few years back, when things we're still good, me and Walter had a few too many one night out by my tool shed...we were basically just getting silly and out of control! When it was all said and done, the cops had gotten called! As my wife said at the time—it wasn't one of my finer moments...but yeah, we had some good times.

After Trigger died, I really kept a keen eye on the old man...I was worried about him, you know? At that age and with that type of loss...you just don't know. So I usually talked to him almost daily there for awhile. But then, and you know how this is, days turn to into weeks and then into months and then you just don't stay in steady touch like you'd originally planned. Things start to revert back to how they were.

“I'd like to have Walter over for Christmas dinner,” I told my wife one night in early December of last year. “I feel like I haven't spent enough time with him lately.” My wife totally understood and thought it to be a fine idea. In fact, she insisted that we do it even though we were having most of her family over and even though Walter, in her words, was “rough around the edges.” She was really great about it. You might say that my wife is a darn, good woman!

At first, Walter absolutely refused, then he came around, then refused again, and this went on for about a week or so. Finally, I threatened to send some volunteers from one of the local churches to “elderly-sit” for him and he broke.

“Nah...I can't handle that.”, he said. “I'll come to your [expletive deleted] dinner.”

So it was my wife, her folks, a couple of her cousins, my sister, a few friends...and Walter. You know, it's funny how a group of folks can come together and you just know that on that particular day, with those particular people, there just isn't another place on Earth that would be better. Football on the T.V., board games, playing old vinyl records, drinking, great conversation, great food, and more drinking! We all had such a fine time! In particular, everybody would get so entranced every time we could get Walter talking about his many interesting life stories especially his service in the Korean conflict.

Towards the end of the evening, my wife and I gave Walter his present. It was a framed picture of him and Trigger that I had taken a few years back. Walter thanked us profusely and I could see his eyes tearing up a bit as he took a sip of his scotch. You could have called it a “moment.”

Around eleven that night, Walter decided it was time to go home. Despite his objections, I insisted on walking him home. When we got to his front door he turned around and before I knew it, the old fella had given me a big hug. I was honestly taken aback. After the embrace, I realized that he had tears streaming down his his face.

“You know Lev, I sure as hell don't know if I'd made it the last few years without you and that wonderful woman of yours.” He was really starting to bawl now.

“Walter...hey man, it was truly our pleasure, you're like family to us.”

“I know, I know...I feel the same way about y'all.”

We just stood there awhile until Walter, in pure Walter fashion, finally blurted out - “Well Alright! Get the hell outta here! You're startin' to wear on my nerves kid!”

I just laughed and started strolling on back to the house, but then I yelled back at him - “Oh yeah! At least I'm not old!”

Walter just kind of chuckled and said, “Hey, you're getting' older every day, buddy boy!”

“Yeah...I'll give you that. So, hey! It was a pretty good Christmas , huh?”

For the first time in the almost ten years I'd known him, Walter looked completely content.
“Yessir”, he said, “it was a good Christmas indeed.”

Epilogue

Yes...it was a good Christmas indeed. It was a very special time and it's a Christmas that I'll never forget.

It was about 3 months later, in March of this year, that we learned that Walter had advanced colon cancer and was terminal. He had known for almost a year and while the doctors had only given him 6 months back in June of last year, he actually made it to August of this year. I'm happy to report that Walter and his son reconciled. He and his family were with Walter for the last several months. Of course, my wife and I were there as were several of the other neighbors. And while things got pretty bad the last couple of weeks, Walter was well cared for with Hospice and didn't really have to deal with any pain. In the end, it was really a blessing for him to pass on. I'd like to believe in Heaven...I really would. And if that is so the case, I'd like to believe that the first thing Walter experienced when he got there was Trigger running up to him and jumping in his arms. That thought always puts a smile on my face. I tell you—I really loved that old man. I think of him often and miss him terribly, but I'll always have the memories of that Christmas evening. 

 Merry Christmas
~from the December 2011 issue of About Covington to Madison~


It's that time of year again. Man, that is so hard to believe. How could we possibly be in December already? Well, Christmas is upon us once again, and I'm so excited! Although my wife and I have been blessed to share this wonderful holiday with our precious daughter for a couple of years now, this will be the first time that our little girl is able to kind of realize what's going on. We got our tree a couple of days ago and she was so excited. Once we got all of the lights and ornaments on, she just went, “Ooooohhhh!” She really likes it. She is also really excited about “Ho Ho,” her term for Santa. We'll see how excited she is when she actually sees him in person in the next week or so. I think she'll probably freak out a little bit...but we'll see. As I said in my Christmas article a couple of years ago, “while Thanksgiving is certainly about giving thanks, Christmas, for me, is just as much about gratitude.” I'm definitely a very grateful man.


As I also mentioned in that previous Christmas column, one of my favorite parts of the holiday is the music. I had written that the Eagles tune, “Please Come Home for Christmas,” was one of my favorites. There's another version of that tune that I've come across that I really like. It's a bluesy cover by Johnny Winter and can be found on Youtube. Use the key words: Johnny Winter Please Come Home for Christmas. It's a fantastic rendition by the Texas blues legend. Check out the guitar solo at the 2:40 mark. I've just recently found another version that absolutely blew me away. I saw it a couple of nights ago on the CMA Christmas special. Martina McBride performed that song and just killed it! That lady can sure enough sing!


Another aspect of Christmas that I really enjoy are the movies. Obviously there are so many great ones: “Miracle on 34th Street”; “It's a Wonderful Life”; “A Christmas Story” and many others. I have to admit, I'm partial to “Scrooged.” It's a comic take on “A Christmas Carol” starring Bill Murray. I'm sure many of you have seen it, but I really do love that movie. I particularly like when Murray's character “gets it” after the visit by the ghost of Christmas future and proceeds to take over the television show he's producing and shares his revelation with the world: “It's Christmas Eve! It's the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be!” Great line...great movie!

I hope everyone has a safe, joyous and wonderful holiday season. From my family to yours: Merry Christmas!

Happy Thanksgiving From The Piedmont Chronicles!

The History of Thanksgiving

By Marshall McCart

*From the November 2010 edition of "About Covington to Madison" Magazine

Hello everyone! Good to be back with you once again. November already! Hard to believe, isn't it? Fall is in full force; college football is hitting the homestretch (and as a UGA man, I'll be “giving thanks” once this season is finally behind us); and Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Many people consider Thanksgiving their favorite holiday—myself included. It's all about the gratitude we feel for the things we have and the people we love. Also, the traditional feast of turkey, dressing, and the rest of the fixins is pretty darned good. Some would also argue that while Thanksgiving has the food, family, and fellowship of Christmas, it doesn't have the stress and hustle and bustle that sometimes leads up to the December holiday. Of course, I think the people who say that usually aren't the ones doing the cooking! But what about the history of this wonderful holiday?

We all remember the story we learned in elementary school about the Pilgrims and Indians coming together for the first Thanksgiving at Plymouth Rock. And while it wasn't quite so simple (and maybe not quite completely accurate either), that basic story is pretty much true. In 1621, the Pilgrims, led by William Bradford, had a three day feast to give thanks for their first successful harvest and invited several of the local Wampanoag Indians including their leader Massasoit. Also in attendance was Squanto--the Indian who translated for the Pilgrims and who also taught them how to fish the local rivers and to grow and harvest the corn and other crops that they were celebrating. It was quite a feast and included turkey, deer, lobster, fish, fowl, corn, squash, and cranberries. This type of celebration as well as its Autumnal timing was similar to the harvest festivals that many parts of Europe had been celebrating for centuries.

Going back to the line about the first Thanksgiving not being completely accurate, I say that because most historians agree that it wasn't truly the first one in the new continent. In 1619, English settlers in Berkley Hundred, near Jamestown in the Virginia colony, had a “day of thanksgiving” which was actually more or less a religious ceremony but did not include a feast. However, that still might not truly be the first one either as it has been documented that the Spanish had a thanksgiving celebration starting in the mid 1500's in modern day Florida. Also, in modern day Canada, settlers there started celebrating a “thanksgiving” in the late 16^th century. So while the basic story behind the Pilgrims is true, it would be inaccurate to label it as the very first Thanksgiving in what is now America. As an aside, Canada also celebrates Thanksgiving but does so in September.

Another inaccuracy with this holiday is the popular misconception that it disappeared for over two centuries and was brought back to life by Lincoln during the Civil War. While Lincoln did issue a proclamation to make the final Thursday in November as a national day of Thanksgiving in 1863, several earlier presidents had done the exact same thing including George Washington and John Adams. Also, many states, particularly in the North, had officially been celebrating the holiday decades before Lincoln.

Thanksgiving did not become an official national holiday until FDR and Congress did so in 1941. They specifically made the fourth Thursday in November (rather than the last) as the date for the holiday. A couple of years earlier, FDR had tried to move the holiday up a week to help spur Christmas sales during the lean times of the Depression. His idea flopped and many people, especially in the South, still celebrated on the last Thursday and jokingly referred to the earlier celebration as “Franksgiving” while some parts of the country simply celebrated both holidays. So after two years and “four” Thanksgivings, FDR and Congress made the change and it has been that way ever since.

There have been some recent trends with Thanksgiving particularly relating to the preparation of the turkey. The big thing lately has been deep frying the bird in peanut oil. Unfortunately, this has also led to Thanksgiving day becoming the number one day of the year for home cooking fires in our country. The experts stress three things. Make sure you're outside. Make sure the turkey is completely thawed out. And make sure you slowly submerse it—don't just drop it in there.

And finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention one other thing...just in case there is anyone out there who hasn't heard about it yet. In Louisiana, they eat what they call a “turducken”, in which a chicken is stuffed into a duck which is then stuffed into a turkey and then cooked. That's just crazy! Although, I must admit, I really want to try it sometime. There is also a variation called a “gooducken” in which a goose is substituted for the turkey. Strange but true...

Well folks...that's all I got for this one. Hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving and maybe some of us will be dining on turducken this year!

Marshall McCart can be reached at marshmanslim@yahoo.com. Previous columns and additional writings can be found at his blog: www.thepiedmontchronicles.blogspot.com

The Piedmont Chronicles as seen in the pages of About Covington to Madison: November 2013

*From the November 2013 edition of About Covington to Madison magazine.

Greetings! I hope this column finds everybody well. And welcome back to another installment of The Piedmont Chronicles in the pages of About Covington to Madison magazine. I’d like to take a moment and thank everyone for all of the kind comments and feedback on last month’s column on Newborn, GA. Thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing it and am glad that so many of you enjoyed reading it. And I know at least a few of you also enjoyed reading the expanded version with some of my personal recollections of living in Newborn that I posted on my web page. I’ve recently come across a self-published book by a Mr. J.G. Stowe that recounts his experiences and memories of growing up in Newborn in the early 1900’s. Fascinating, fascinating stuff. I’m planning on getting some excerpts of that up on the online version of the Chronicles, so keep an eye out for that.

As I mentioned last time, my second column ever in this “little book” was about Newborn, but what I didn’t mention was the other town I covered in that original column was Mansfield. Just down the road from Newborn, it is also a fine Southern town with some beautiful homes and lots of history. I’m planning on doing a full write-up on the town formerly known as Bob Lee (and also Carmel Junction) in the very near future.

Also, I’d like to give a big thanks to The Historical Society of Newton Co. for having me as the featured speaker at their latest meeting. As I’ve told a few folks, I consider myself an amateur historian and maybe a semi-decent writer at best, and that’s really about it. It was truly a pleasure to be asked to do that. The Society is a great organization and I would urge anyone who considers themselves enthusiasts of local history to join. I’d also like to give a shout-out to the Morehouse family for hosting the Society meeting out at Burge Plantation. I tell you what - Burge is truly a Newton Co. treasure. That place is amazing, and just beautiful. I always love going down there.

Well…there’s one more thing I’d like to address in the column. And for us UGA fans, this is kind of a sore subject. As I type this, our Dawgs have just fallen to 4-3 on the season and are licking their wounds after a loss to Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt! Man, this season has really taken a turn on us, hasn’t it? Remember how we all felt after that LSU game? We were on top of the world – the sky was the limit. Now, just a few weeks later, and we’re seriously wondering if going 8-4 on the season might be considered a minor miracle. As several of you may know, my column before the Newborn one discussed UGA and I had made the prediction that we would go 11-1 in the regular season, win the SEC, and have a shot to play for the BCS championship. As a few folks who have gotten their digs in have let me know, I sure blew that one.

So, what happened? It ain’t rocket science. You just can’t lose your top 2 running backs and 3 of your top 4 receivers and expect to just keep rolling along. This season, to me, has been reminiscent of the 1965 edition of the Georgia Bulldogs. After huge wins over Alabama with the infamous flea-flicker play and Michigan in Ann Arbor, the Dawgs found themselves as highly ranked as number 4 in the country until injuries ripped the team apart and they limped to a 6-4 finish losing four of their final six games.

But as many of us know, it’s not just the injuries. Our special teams play has been especially horrid while our defense just hasn’t jelled like so many of us thought they would. Add to that offensive line play that has gone back and forth between brilliant and awful, and you’ve got a recipe for some tough times. With all that said, there’s something to keep in mind – one win can go a long way towards making things better. After a bye this weekend, the Dawgs head to Jacksonville to take on the Florida Gators. A win in that one would be huge. Hopefully we can get some folks healthy, regroup, work some things out, and finish strong. I sure hope so…

Alright, that’s all I got for this one. Like I said, a write-up on Mansfield is in the works, as is the long-awaited interview and corresponding column with a local musical legend. Stay tuned and definitely check out the online version of the Chronicles when you get a chance. Until next time.