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This Week's Letter from James

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Petty Shore
September 6, 1863

To: Isaac Pierce, Co. G, 31st Infty:

Dear brother:

Well, the Union men came up in full pack last week. It was a big movement and we thought maybe for a while that they had come to this side of the river to stay, but it wasn't to be. It looks like about all they were after was a whole lot of beef, pork and corn and cotton stored on the Alfred Wright farm way west of St. Johns. They came with a lot of wagons and cleaned the place out, and after three or four days headed back the way they came, by Powellsville and Trap and Colerain.

In a way, a lot of us were kind of glad when we heard a lot of them were on the move, and I guess we were all a little sad when they got what they wanted and turned around and headed straight for their camp at Plymouth. I guess you being in the CSA might think heavy of me for talking like this, but sometimes I feel like we'd be a lot better off if they would stay around here when they come through, and let the rest of these other secessionist folks depart. I've come to the place I think the northerners might be better people than some of our own kind.

I think mama feels the same way, too, but she keeps mostly quiet and don't like to hear us talk too much like that. I know Abigail is thinking that way. But Abigail is plain lonesome. Except for good old lame Job, there just are not any real menfolk in the neighborhood to speak of, except for some former well-off ex-secessionists having truck now with the Yankees, a few old poor men hobbling around, and sprouts like me that the world hasn't decided what to do with yet. Everybody else is poor womenfolk and younguns, and that leaves Abigail at her age with nothing living-like to do. The Union boys haven't been visiting around here too much recently, I guess because of the work that they had to do out from St. Johns and the jitters about the CSA forage men.

I kind of know what Abigail feels. I think I have some of the same. There are some young ladies around here that I have to say are real pleasing to my eye, and I think if times were different, like they used to be when you were here, I might have something to say to one of them. My 18th birthday sits like a big black door in a big black wall running all across a field that I'm walking through, and I don't have any idea what is on the other side of that wall. I wish there was no war, and I could stay here in the fields forever, and raise me a family. I'd like to have some little boys and girls of my own, and my own mules and horses and cows and pigs. But sometimes I start looking at that big black door down that dark, lonely road, and I just about hang down my head and cry. Damn Jeff Davis.

Mama is learning to read some. Abigail and Priscilla are helping her with her words. She's not so great with books but she has a whole lot of sense in her head for a woman. When I get too excited or too upset with things that are going on, she knows how to pull me back with a cautionary word. All the world's brains are not in books, I know, even if I do tend toward them because they help me keep from going off.

She hasn't heard from Mr. Askew or Cit in a year, I don't think. She doesn't have the least idea where they might be or if either one of them will ever come home, or if they do what kind of physique they might be in. She wants to be friendly with Abigail's Union fellows, but she holds herself back I know because what do you do when you have a husband and two sons off somewhere in the CSA, and no real men anywhere around you but these blue-coated northerners? I guess you must still feel true to the CS, but I hope when the good Lord allows us all to get together again some day that you will be understanding with your brother, sister, family and neighbors that sat around the eating table and talked with Yankees just like they were regular people.

I know that what is really worrying mama is the After. She's lived long enough to be able to say and to know that these things, too, shall pass just like the Bible says they will. She's worried some about what will happen if we all die before these things pass, and she's worried a lot about what will happen if these things pass and we still have not died.

I have heard her ask Abigail that if this all should end, by surprise, then where would our blue-coat friends go and where would we be? Where will we be if the Hinnant Edwardses and the Alfred Wrights all come back mad as hops wanting to gather in all their once-legal human property and tell the secesh sheriff to straighten this county out from its philandering ways?

She asks: what will we do when the neighbor-women's menfolks come home from the CSA without an arm and a leg but with a big hate for Mr. Lincoln and the folks that let the slaves loose? You can see hardness now in Elizabeth's face when the blue-coats are around, and I know it's because of Thomas.

What are we going to do if we jump sides for convenience now and the conveniences all fade away when that side backs away? Are neighbors ever going to live again with neighbors that stole from them and shot at them and mortally angered them? She asks how many children will have to be born and will have to die around here before the feuding eases. Even if we stop fighting outright, are we ever going to be able to live together again with all the terrible memories and silent hates? Lord, I can't answer. I don't know what to do or where to go. I have never had anything to do with slaves one way or the other, and Lord knows, sometimes I wish I had never heard of one. About all I can say is what I have said before. Damn Jeff Davis.

Your brother James

P.S. We surely had a bad windstorm and a fierce rain here the other day. It rained and blew almost two days. The Federals went back just in time not to get drowned on dry land. I never saw the like of the rain, and the wind took down some timber in mama's near fields, but I don't think it was enough to hurt. There's a whole lot of trees still standing, and the upper creek has gone back to its bed now, but I don't know about the peanuts and cotton.

~

The foregoing is a selection from the eBook "Petty Shore ~ Letters from James." The eBook is based on the written records and oral history of a family living near the Chowan River between Winton and the Wiccacon during the 1800s. The "Letters from James," based on events during the Civil War, were written by James Pearce in January 2000, and no claim is made that they are literally factual.

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This Week's Verse

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In a prison cell I sit, thinking, mother dear, of you
And our loved and happy home so far away,
And the tears they fill my eyes, in spite of all that I can do,
Still I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are marching,
Cheer up comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag, we shall breathe free air again,
Of the free land in our own beloved home.

In the battle front we stood, when the fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off, a hundred men or more,
But before we reached their lines, they were beaten back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of victory o'er and o'er.

So within a prison cell, we are waiting for the day,
That shall come to open wide the iron door,
And the hollow eyes grow bright, and the poor heart almost gay,
As we think of seeing friends and home once more.

(By George F. Root, 1864)

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This Week's Story

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DEATH AT THE OLD DRAWBRIDGE

The following account of a terrible tragedy at Eden House Bridge was researched by Neil Baker from the files of a newspaper printed for Bertie County in 1936. Except in the case of officers and the eyewitness who first summoned assistance to the scene, the story has been paraphrased to eliminate the names of people involved in order to spare pain to survivors or relatives. Researcher Neil Baker can be contacted at nbaker@coastalnet.com

The Bertie Ledger-Advance, Windsor
May 15, 1936

Four Are Drowned In Bridge Accident

Three of Bertie and One Chowan Person Meet Death In Tragedy

CARS PLUNGE THRU OPEN DRAWBRIDGE

Sudden death came to four young people and four others narrowly escaped drowning also late Saturday night at the drawbridge at Eden House, when the cars in which they were riding plunged into the waters of Chowan River ......

The tragedy was one of the most shocking in years to the people of this ...... section. It occurred some time before midnight Saturday night, and very soon there were scores of cars on both ends of the bridge ~ traffic was suspended, officers arrived, and wrecking crews came to lift the two cars and the victims from the river's bottom.

D. E. Jones of Edenton is said to be the only eyewitness to the accident. He informed officers that the two cars passed him traveling rapidly as he reached the Bertie entrance to the bridge, and that he saw them approach the open draw and then go plunging into the river as the span was open to permit passage of a boat at the time.

It is said that (a Merry Hill youth) standing on the running board of (one of the two cars) jumped off and (thus) saved his life. (Another Merry Hill youth) managed to open the front door (of one of the vehicles) and jump to safety. (A Colerain man and an Edenton woman) said they smashed through a side door after their car went to the bottom, and rose to the surface when Jones pulled them out.

After the crash, Jones got word to Corporal George Dail of the State Highway Patrol and Night Patrolman Bob Britt, who with a number of officers from Williamston, Ahoskie, Elizabeth City, and New Bern came to the scene. (The driver of the first vehicle) is reported to have stopped his car when he saw the draw was open, and (the driver of the second car) failed to see it in time and plunged into (it) ...... sending both into the river.

Wrecking crews from Edenton and Windsor were called to the scene and spent the greater part of the night bringing the two cars to the surface. Traffic over the bridge was at a standstill for several hours, and an estimated 250 cars were lined up on each side awaiting passage before the bridge was reopened.

Reports state that (a youth in one of the cars) was instrumental in saving two (of the others) who escaped, by quick thinking and action in getting them to bridge timbers until aid could be given by people on the bridge.

Many people went to Eden House Saturday night and Sunday, attracted by reports of the tragedy.

FUNERAL SERVICES

Funerals were held Monday afternoon for the four drowning victims who met death at the Chowan River bridge Saturday night when two cars crashed through a safety gate into the water below. All the funerals were very largely attended and reflected the extreme sorrow felt not only by the immediate families but by hosts of other friends and acquaintances.

(A double funeral was held at Capeharts Church ...... One funeral was held at the home of the Merry Hill victim, and another was held in Edenton.)

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This Week's Fable

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CODE ORANGE FOR ROYAL T.
© 2002 James D. Pearce

"Royal T.," said Hattie Ray, "it's after 9 o'clock. Time for you to get up."

Royal T. rolled over.

"Well, I been thinking about that, Hattie Ray," he said to his wife. "I been thinking about getting up. Got a lot to do today.

"But I was watching the news woman and the weather woman on Channel 9's 11 o'Clock News last night, and they said I should be sure to check on the code-alerts before I started doing anything today."

"Royal T., what in the heck are you talking about ~ checking on the code-alerts?"

"Well, you know, Hattie Ray, the code-alerts ~ like Code Yellow for the Ozone and whether you will be able to breathe today ~

"And Code Orange for Osama bin Laden ~ whether he's got any explosive plans for the day.

"The weather people and the government people said we should always check for the code-alerts before we make our plans for the day," said Royal T.

Hattie Ray stepped out of the room for a minute, and returned with her big broom ~ the one with the thick round handle.

She was holding it by the broom-end.

"Royal T.," said Hattie Ray, "I don't give a heck what the weather people and the government people say.

"And them chickens in that pen and them cows in that pasture don't give a heck about no code-alerts.

"You get your sorry self out of that bed and get about your business.

"Or I'm going to code this broom-handle right up against your hard head."

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Poor Town Poet Laureate

Calvin Harrell

The Great Dismal Swamp will give you swamp fever,
love her just once, and you never will leave her.
So hauntingly beautiful, so silent and serene,
where Spanish-mossed cypress casts an ethereal scene.
The mist-shrouded maiden, searching for her lover still,
has given many a couple a spine-tingling thrill,
while soft southern breezes on the Virginia/Carolina shore,
whisper ...... secretly ...... please come back for more.
The graceful honeysuckles that swing and sway,
send a honey-sweet invitation ~ come stay, and play, all day.
The swish of kayak paddles as you silently glide,
give no wildlife fear, nor reason to hide.
O Great Dismal Swamp, you are a lovely tiara
'mongst our nation's treasures, from sea to sierra.
So today we start, the "When and the How,"
your future is here, your time is now.

(The last lines are in reference to a recent meeting in Suffolk VA proposing
that city as the site of the Tourist/Destination Headquarters.)
© 2002 Calvin Harrell ~ eMail familyak@webtv.net

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This Week's Mailbox

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To the Poor Town News ~ (The Calvin and Frazier Hoggard notes are) very interesting, since I was a Hoggard from the Aulander/Ahoskie area. I have not been able to continue a search for my paternal grandfather's lineage. I would love to know where this material was researched and how I could find out if this could be my grandfather's ancestors. ~ Elizabeth H. Wiggins. ~ we2wiggs@gte.net

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To the Poor Town News ~ Enjoyed reading about Molly again. The stories have such great language, which enables me to create captivating imagery in my mind ...... The Chowan River is beautiful. Have developers discovered the region yet? Thanks as always. ~ Agnes Green, Michigan ~ finlawmama@chartermi.net

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To the Poor Town News ~ I am delighted to have read your newsletter on the Chowan River. I find your articles very, very interesting. The rich history of the past that you write about, (pertaining to) the areas that we live in now, is just overwhelming. I reside in the Sunbury area, and to read about history of (many) years ago ~ events that happened this close to home ~ is very exciting and overwhelming. Keep up the good work, and much success for the future. ~ Elizabeth Harvey ~ ingrid@albemarlenet.com

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To the Poor Town News ~ The (Chawanook story) was quite good. I just love that photo (the view from Mount Gould) because to me that old Chowan River is the garden spot of the world. It's home. That is one beautiful picture. ~ Nell P. Little ~ ronlittle@coastalnet.com

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To the Poor Town News ~ I really enjoy (The Poor Town News). Keep up the good work and keep the news coming. Your friend. ~ Doris Parker ~ dhparker@inteliport.com

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