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Local History

Aiken Gets Water: A 19th Century History

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Like other 19th century American towns, Aiken’s population growth drove the need for a municipal waterworks. The difficulty was finding adequate water in a town renowned for its dryness.


By Jeff Dexter

In the Beginning

In the early 1830s, a tiny town was created at a crossroads in the wilderness of western South Carolina. As history would have it, it was one of the first, if not the first town in the country created specifically for purposes of the railroad. Another historical first was the railroad that was routed through that town — the South Carolina Canal & Rail Road, which ran from Charleston to Hamburg. At 136 miles in length, it was, at the time, the longest rail line in the world. In 1835 that tiny town in the wilderness was incorporated and named Aiken after the president of that railroad, William Aiken. 

Unlike most 19th century towns, which were sited along rivers and other waterways, it was the lack of water that put Aiken on the map. The route of the rail line across the state was carefully chosen to avoid rivers, streams, and swamps wherever possible. Located high on a sandy ridge between the Savannah and Edisto Rivers, its elevation relatively high in the surrounding landscape, the site of Aiken perfectly fit this specification; it had very little water.

ABOVE: Aiken County, State of South Carolina, geological & agricultural map, compiled from railroad, coast & state surveys by Williams & Chism. Circa 1870.

In fact, during Aiken’s infancy, the town had only one reliable source of pure, clean water– a small spring, Coker Spring, located over half a mile south of the business district. 

Coker Spring

The history of Coker Spring is as colorful as it is long. Pottery relics found at the site during a 20th century restoration effort showed that the spring had been used for thousands of years by native people. During the 1700s, the spring served as a stagecoach stop. In the 1840s, the site was acquired by a Charleston attorney, who deeded the spring to the people of Aiken, who relied on the spring’s water for drinking, cooking, cleaning, bathing, laundry, and watering cattle, mules and horses. Bath houses, laundry camps, and a soap-making concern were established at the site.

April 1874 advertisement for Coker Spring Grove posted in The Aiken Journal.

The site — a picturesque valley with large oak trees, pines and kalmia — was also a favorite area for picnics and parties. In the 1860s, the Coker Spring would serve as a camp for Civil War troops. From 1874-1875, the area was opened as a park by a private interest, who built a pavilion and bath house, called Coker Spring Grove, for picnics, parties and dancing.

In 1875, a violent storm system that spun tornadoes and a path of death and destruction from Galveston, Texas to Florence, SC passed through the Coker Spring area, reportedly felling nearly every tree in the valley. 

The spring endured, however, continuing to serve as Aiken’s primary source for clean water. Those with the means —ox cart, barrels, buckets and time — could go down, collect the water and haul it back. The spring’s modest supply, (5 gallons per minute on a good day), sufficed, to a point. The town was growing.

Since the beginning, the same dry climate that had drawn the railroad to Aiken also drew visitors from the Low Country seeking escape from the heat, humidity and malaria. As word spread of its exceedingly dry air and relatively cooler temps — and the healthful benefits of this climate — Aiken became established as a health resort. For the duration of the 19th century, the town’s reputation spread far and wide to all points on the map, drawing, as well, a population of Winter Colony residents who built large mansions and estates. By the 1870s-1880s, the demand for water was exceeding what Coker Spring could supply. Aiken needed a better solution. Aiken needed water. 

The Early Systems of Cisterns and Wells

Those with the means to do so built 6 to 7-foot diameter underground brick-and-mortar vessels, called cisterns, to capture rainwater. A system of gutters and downspouts transported the rainwater from their roofs into the sealed chambers of the cistern. Most times, but not always, the water would be, first, routed through a barrel of sand or charcoal for filtration before reaching its final destination.

The level of filtration was driven by the intended uses of the water — drinking, cooking, bathing, cleaning, laundry, gardens and/or fire suppression. Various methods of heat and chemical sterilization were also used to make water suitable for drinking. In addition, cisterns required regular inspection and cleaning to prevent the accumulation of dirt, debris and sediment within. Contamination and pollution were always a risk. Newspaper accounts of that era attested to the hazards of drinking unclean water.

ABOVE: Account from the Aiken Journal and Review, June 10, 1885.

Those without the means to construct a complicated home cistern system congregated at the wells that the city leaders had provided at the intersection of certain city streets to draw their water. City wells were similar to those often see often seen in fairytale books, with the quaint little roof sheltering a hand crank that would lower a rope with a small bucket tied to it to collect the water.

“Aiken Water Works.”1 Photograph by J.A. Palmer. Handwritten note reads, “What looks like snow is white sand all the streets are the same.” The belfry of St. Thaddeus Church is visible in the background, suggesting a Greenville Street location for this well.

Due to Aiken’s relatively high elevation and the depth of the sandy plateau on which the it rested, wells had to be dug deep — upwards of 100-150 feet— which made for a laborious effort by the hand-digging methods of the day. Once finished, it was no small effort to crank that rope up and down to collect even the smallest amount of water. City wells were prone, as were the residential cisterns, to contamination by unwanted animal and mineral elements. Aiken surely did need water. 

“View of the principle street at Aiken” from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, May 22, 1869. Illustration of Laurens Street viewed from the intersection of Richland Avenue. Note the women in the foreground, right, carrying water from the well, its lattice siding partially visible at the right edge or the photo. A second well is visible in front of the 2-story City Hall building which stands in the middle of Laurens Street near the intersection with Hayne.

Meanwhile, there was the specter of fires. With the reliance on fire for lighting, cooking, heating, and so many other daily tasks, accidents were bound to occur. Structure fires consumed houses, churches and businesses . The great fire of 1839 burned down the entire Laurens Street business district, save one store on the corner of Park Avenue and Laurens. Another major fire destroyed much of the downtown area in the 1880s. The first Platt’s Drug Store fire occurred in 1886.

City leaders did their best at the time, constructing giant 15,000 and 65,000 gallon cisterns in the middle of Laurens Street. A 30,000 gallon cistern was later added at the junction of York and Richland Avenue. These cisterns served only the immediate areas in which they were located, providing water for the steam and hand-pump fire engines of the time. Vulnerabilities to this system were droughts, freezing, and the limitations of hose length.

The aqua circles on Laurens Street in this May 1884 Sanborn Fire Insurance map indicate wells and cisterns. Click image for larger view.

The lack of adequate water supplies for fire suppression was causing fire insurance rates to balloon to the point where some merchants struggled to stay in business. Water! Then would come the inevitable question— but, from where?


The Water Question

Every year or two, the “water question” would arise in the town council meetings. In those meetings, the same complaints could be heard over and over again. 

  • The town cisterns are in need of cleaning.
  • The wells around town are silted, the water impure and simply abominable. “
  • The old oaken bucket may be dear to some, but there is no poetry in one hung at the end of a 160-foot rope. 
  • Do you ever wonder what becomes of the filth (trash and animal waste) that is scattered over the surface of our city?

 Adding insult to injury, certain scallywags sometimes delighted in cutting the ropes to the wells. Aiken was promoting itself as the preeminent healthful destination for invalids to recover from debilitating diseases. This could hardly coexist with a water supply vulnerable to typhoid fever, cholera, and other water-borne diseases.

Could the water from the old reliable Coker Spring and one or two other smaller springs beyond be collected in some kind of cistern or reservoir? Nope, that supply was inadequate. Could the water from Good Springs, five miles northwest of town be tapped? Nope, too far away. With no electricity for pumps at that time, this option was an impossibility. But, wait! Charleston had achieved great success in obtaining water by means of the artesian well– a well bored deep into the aquifer below, tapping into water that is under pressure, such that it rises to, or near to the surface. Could something like that work here in Aiken? Did that water even exist below our town? It promised to be an expensive venture, potentially resulting in a grand boondoggle with nothing to show for the effort but odd-tasting sulfur or mineral water, unsuitable for use.

Aiken Takes Action

With no guarantee of a successful outcome, the Town Council initiated the first step in the process, petitioning the SC General Assembly for permission to establish a city-wide waterworks system. In late December of 1891, the SC General Assembly passed an act authorizing the Aiken Council to construct a waterworks, pending passage of the act by the qualified voters of Aiken. That election was held in April 1892 at the fire engine house below town hall in the middle of Laurens Street. The final results– Yes- 149, No- 40, those described as “Scattering”- 13.

The Council sought the advice of various contractors. One by the name of Mr. Baum examined the city and advised that artesian water could be easily had at a very low cost. Skeptical city leaders were not sold, and instead, chose the services of Mr. Eugene F. Fuller of Orange, New Jersey. Council then worked to craft an ordinance, passed in August of 1892, that outlined the work to be done, going even so far as to specify the individual costs for customers to tap into this system. Mr. Fuller was charged with locating the water from some unspecified source — a well? a spring? a running stream? Some speculated that he might draw on Sand River where it reemerged at the rear of Mr. Cuthbert’s Hill in what would later become Hitchcock Woods.

Once he attained a water source, Fuller was to lay out and install the water mains throughout the city. He would then operate the entire system, collecting water rates from customers for a period of 30 years. Construction of the waterworks was mandated to start within sixty days after acceptance of the contract with Fuller, and to be completed within four months. 

The Fuller Fail

In September 1892, Mr. Fuller visited Aiken to solidify the contract and participate with other Aiken businessmen in establishing his Aiken Waterworks Company. He also ordered the standpipe– a massive 180,000 gallon, 16-foot diameter by 120-foot tower that would hold the water pumped from the yet-defined source. Gravity would pressure water from the standpipe to the upper stories of any house or building in town. In January 1893, the unassembled pieces of the standpipe were delivered to the freight depot at Park Avenue and Williamsburg Street. Two months later, the pieces were still lying in wait at the depot. With ground yet to be broken on the waterworks, and Mr Fuller vague on his plans to return to town, public concerns grew vocal.. Arrangements were made to haul the standpipe by mule and dump it the middle of Newberry Street.

The turn of events led citizens to re-visit the terms of the ordinance passed the prior summer. The source for the water had yet to be named, which left open the questions on water purity and adequate supply. Would this new source be as vulnerable to the whims of weather as cisterns? And was the City wise to put the town’s waterwork in the hands of private interests, whose motives for profit might override concerns of water quality? Opposition to the Fuller plan took root and was expressed through petitions signed by hundreds and brought before Council. By April 1893, with Mr. Fuller in default with his contract, the City began the process of cancelling his contract. Come July 1893, Mr. Fuller’s tools and machinery were sold off in a Sheriff’s sale. 

The Artesian Option

In early March 1893, even before Mr. Fuller had been banished from the project, a citizen water committee was formed. They petitioned for $2,500 from the city to test and explore the possibility of obtaining an artesian well. From the beginning, the artesian option was seen as an experimental venture, its outcome unknown.

That same month, the water committee re-contacted the contractor that had, a year earlier, given such a rosy estimate of the artesian water that coursed below the surface of Aiken — Mr. Baum of the Andrews & Baum firm of Atlanta, Georgia. Fortunately, Baum was familiar with the town, having visited previously. He formulated a plan and quickly provided a bid to bore a well that was very favorable to city leaders.

His partner, Perry Andrews, would perform the work using local laborers, supplying the equipment and well casing at no cost to the city. There would be no charge for the first 500 feet of depth if no water was reached. There was no doubt that it would be a very risky venture, but Council quickly jumped on this proposal and rewrote the waterworks ordinance.

The method chosen for sinking the well was a cable-tool drilling rig — a method developed in China 4,000 years prior — which necessitated hanging a large chisel from a rope tied to a teeter-totter-type device. A group of men would then jump on and off of the teeter-totter to move the chisel up and down to cut downward into the earth.

Andrews would, instead, use a steam-powered engine to work the teeter-totter– no jumping men would be needed. With the anticipated drilling depth to be over 500 feet, it was going to be a very slow process. 

On May 10, 1893, Mr. Baum was called to Aiken to iron out the final details to city leaders. He reassured that rushing tides of health-giving water were right beneath the town. On May 17, the contract was signed and sealed. The standpipe would be located at the highest point in the town limits– Edgefield Street and Laurens (between what is now the post office and the former public safety building). The well would be located at the intersection of  Laurens Street and Park Avenue.

Everything seemed set until a large group of citizens vehemently objected to the litter and smoke that would be generated by the well-drilling; the ungainliness. This would not be an ornament to the intersection of Aiken’s two principal thoroughfares. It was decided to, instead, locate an ornamental fountain at the intersection of Laurens and Park, and to site the well in the middle of Newberry Street at the intersection with Curve Street (the Alley).


The Experiment Begins

At the end of May, Perry Andrews arrived in town to begin the process. Workmen erected a 45-foot derrick over the boring site to assist in lifting the giant 1,000 lb. chisel in and out of the well. Winches and engines were put in place, and well-casing pipes were gathered. On June 7, 1893, the boring began, much to the amazement of the large crowds of townsfolk who looked on. Advocates of the artesian option were noticeably nervous. It was such a big gamble, and now, there was no turning back– the great experiment had begun.


The ‘Man About Town” section of the Aiken Journal and Review tracked the progress, reporting in 6/14/1893 the reactions Aiken citizens. “Daily conventions at the site have not by any means been made up wholly of street urchins, gamins, and idlers. Every citizen contrives to take a squint at the processes going on whenever a leisure moment is spared him. The most pronounced advocates make it a daily habit to briefly visit and keenly watch the progress of the boring. Even the ladies are sometimes seen to steal softly and airily in the afternoon after the workmen have quit and flutter animatedly about the scene for a while and then lightly to fly away.”

Further, the Man About Town stated, “All watched as the baler would draw up the results of the dig– rich red clay, sand, terra cotta, a tough stratum of marl, a 15-foot thick layer of kaolin, then coarse, loose sand…. Mr. Andrews was making his slow progress downward toward the coveted goal of reaching bedrock, beyond which would, hopefully, be flowing rivers of pure, healthful artesian water.” 

Aiken Gets Water

Summer brought a series of equipment failures and delays. In late June, the gearing on the winch that raised and lowered the giant chisel had to be replaced. In August, at 325 feet of depth, the chisel hit a seemingly endless layer of quicksand, filling the hole as quickly as it was bored. This required a weeks-long process of removing and replacing the well casing.

Finally, at the end of September, the chisel hit bedrock at 485 feet. Andrews forged ahead, the goal being to reach a point of strong pressure to send a sufficient flow of water to the surface, Near the end of October, a vein of water was reached at a depth of 545 feet. Drilling continued, and at 565 feet, another vein was struck. Continuing, yet another vein was struck. Water certainly did not rush to the surface of the ground as artesian wells are supposed to do, but the level did push up to about 170 feet below the surface. Mr. Andrews continued his drilling in hopes of increasing the supply already there.

In mid-December 1893, he finally pulled his chisel out for the last time. At a depth of 700 feet, he had attained an estimated flow of 200,000 gallons per day. Still no water geyser in evidence but, eh, close enough. “Water, water everywhere, and plenty of it to drink!” Proclaimed the Aiken Journal and Review.

Now What?

At the start of 1894, there were no pipes, pumps or hydrants, etc. to deliver the water throughout the town. Citizens were urged to stop drinking from the old wells and cisterns and to, instead, bring their buckets and barrels to the artesian well site on Newberry Street. Within a year, however, nearly five miles of water mains had been completed, mostly in the east/west Florence to Fairfield Street and north/south Edgefield to Colleton Street area. It would be another 70 years before the poor sections of town would receive service.

By early 1896, there were 200 residential and business customers attached to the system, using a collective 40,000 gallons per day. Many were installing newly-built rooms onto their houses, replacing the water pitcher and bowl from the bedroom dresser with a sink and a bathtub into this new room, which they called a “bathroom.” Some households also replaced the bedpan and the outhouse with one of the new-fangled flush toilets.

Kitchen were also outfitted with sinks, making trips to the hand-pump and the well obsolete. With the newly invented devices of lawn mower and sprinkler, growing a lush rye grass lawn was now possible. Water was also available for watering gardens, horses and livestock. For awhile, the issues of water supply seemed a thing of the past.

Within the first few years, however, water-wasting became an issue, as household and business usage alarmingly exceeded original usage estimates. Meters would be needed to monitor usage. Another unanticipated cost was the specialized labor necessary to operating the system’s steam engines, pumps and other mechanics. Stirred into this were ongoing equipment breakdowns, operator mishaps, and system malfunctions. All of this equated to rising costs, which meant higher fees and taxes.

While Aiken’s artesian well project may not have been a boondoggle, it ultimately proved to be a costly, labor-intensive way of getting water. Within 15 years, a new system would be installed at Shiloh Springs.

First, however, was the matter of those 40,000 gallons of artesian well water being used every day. What to do with all of that waste water being created? Aiken now needed a sewage system!

___________________

  1. The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Photography Collection, The New York Public Library. “Aiken Water works.” The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 1870 – 1879. https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e1-af16-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99

Feature photo: Child taking a drink of water at Coker Spring in Aiken.
Retrograph Co., Germany, 1904.
(Note the location was erroneously cited as “Cocoa Springs” on the postcard).

Historic Aiken, Local History, November 2024

The Friendship Baptist Church Parsonage: A Case for Protecting this Historic and Culturally Significant House

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A Slide Presentation
by
Mandy Nicoli-Drumming

Slide 1 (Intro Slide)

ABOVE: Slide 1. Click to view full size.

Slide 2 (Quote) 

For the sake of context, I’d like to start with a quote, stated by Barry Finder, an architectural historian, during his lecture titled, “Arts and Crafts Architecture in Colorado Springs.” The quote states, “…I don’t think my subjects would ever have referred to themselves necessarily as Arts and Crafts architects, but they certainly were, there is no doubt about it.”

Slides 3 – 5

Slide 3 (Parsonage) From 1919-1920, in the American Southeast, health resort area of Aiken, South Carolina, the historically Black, Friendship Baptist Church built a parsonage adjacent to its main church building Slide 4 (Parkway Grid) and facing one of Aiken’s numerous parkways. Slide 5 (Graham and students) The parsonage was designed and built by Edinburg Graham, a FBC member, minister, and carpentry instructor at Schofield Normal and Industrial School, with the assistance of several Schofield boy students.

ABOVE: Slides 3, 4 and 5. Click images to view full size.

Slides 6 – 8

Slide 6 (Schofield School images) Schofield, located only a few blocks from Friendship Baptist Church, was founded in 1868 by Martha Schofield, a Pennsylvanian Quaker, for the education of African Americans. For decades, Schofield held a close relationship with Friendship Baptist Church Slide 7 (Whitney and Iselin) as well as garnered significant support from Aiken Colony institutions and dedicated participants, such as William C. Whitney and Hope Goddard Iselin, particularly after 1880, when Schofield, Slide 8 (Booker T. Washington on Horse) like the Tuskegee Institute founded by Booker T. Washington, began offering an education in the manual arts.

ABOVE:: Slides 6, 7 and 8. Click images to view full size.

Slides 9 – 13

Slide 9 (Parsonage) Standing 1 and ½ stories tall, Graham and the Schofield boys built the parsonage using mostly natural, presumably locally sourced materials of wood and brick. In its asymmetrical massing, the parsonage presents a low-pitched roof; a large, covered porch; fairly deep eaves with exposed rafters, and a dormer. Slide 10 (Mantel and Porch) Throughout the interior and exterior of the parsonage, the design is cohesive. Slide 11 (Woodwork)Woodwork displays smooth surfaces and minimal ornamentation, except for classical design touches. Slide 12 (Classical)These classical elements include Doric columns; rounded and arched windows and motifs; an entranceway framed with two sidelights and a sunburst fanlight, Slide 13 (Segmental Arches) and numerous segmental-arches part of the porch construction and several fireplace mantels.

ABOVE: Slides 9-13. Click images to view full size.

Slides 14 – 18

Given its construction and design, Slide 14 (A and C Books) the parsonage is an architectural result of what is called the American Arts and Crafts movement, one of the most far-reaching movements in American art, but also one of the least understood. In the United States, during the years following the American Civil War, until the onset of WII, the American Arts and Crafts movement was a movement that Slide 15 (Industrial Issues) aimed to address the negative effects associated with the Second Industrial Revolution, in conjunction with Slide 16 (American Liberalism Books) rejuvenating the founding principles of America, given slavery was finally abolished. Slide 17 (Washington and Northeast) Recognizers of the movement included Booker T. Washington and others from heavily industrialized areas historically steeped in abolitionism, principally Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Slide 18 (New England A & C Book) American Arts and Crafts movement supporters called for a return to nature, good health, handicraft, the use of natural and locally sourced materials, simplicity, utility, primitivism, and the revival of the best of a region’s early colonial past.

ABOVE: Slides 14-18. Click images to view full size.

Slides 19 – 23

Slide 19 (House & Garden Ad) Demonstrating American Arts and Crafts movement thought in material form is a page of advertisements printed in 1923, in House and Garden magazine, considered a prestigious organ of Arts and Crafts taste. Slide 20 (Colonial Chair) The advertisement page includes ads for Colonial Revival Windsor Chairs crafted by Artcraft Furniture Co.; Slide 21 (Metal Basket) a metal flower wall basket produced by Florentine Craftsmen Masters of the Metal Arts; Slide 22 (House & Garden Book) and the book Arts & Decoration; Practical Home Study Course in Interior Decoration, written in part by the author of The Practical Book of Early American Arts and Crafts. Slide 23 (Scroggs & Ewing) In reference to Aiken, the page includes an ad for Homes of Distinction, an architectural promotional book created by Augusta-based architectural firm Scroggs & Ewing. Work by Scroggs & Ewing appears throughout historic, downtown Aiken.

ABOVE: Slides 19-23. Click images to view full size.

Slides 24 – 31

Slide 24 (A & C Books) To live the tenets of the American Arts and Crafts movement, advocates often traveled to health resort hubs in the United States, bringing with them their American Arts and Crafts ideals. Current articles abound discussing the influence of the American Arts and Crafts movement on health resort areas including California, Slide 25, 26, 27, 28 (California) Colorado Springs, Colorado, Slide 29 (Colorado)and the Pacific Northwest Slide 30 (Pacific Northwest). These articles discuss American Arts and Crafts practitioners’ celebration of early colonial, indigenous populations, including Mexicans and Native Americans. Similarly, it is said, at Tuskegee, Slide 31 (Tuskegee Pastoral) Booker T. Washinton “conjured up a black Oz in the red, pine-dotted hills of the Black Belt in Alabama. As opposed to W. E. B. DuBois’s urban-minded ideals of integration, Washington believed that the isolated world of black towns provided the key elements to the eventual gain of greater political, economic, and cultural power for African Americans. Washinton temporarily averted his gaze from the brutal realities of Jim Crow and conceived an Arts and Crafts-inspired campus, softened in the hand-colored tones of a simpler time. Like John Ruskin (an English A & C leader), he became a prophet for the working class by turning to the past for the blueprints of a utopian community. As it had been for Ruskin, Nature was Washinton’s muse. The aesthetic of the Tuskegee campus and its representations were carefully constructed by Washinton to deliver varying messages. For northern white philanthropist friends, steeped in Victorian taste and laced with the Ruskin aesthetic of morality, nature, labor, and art, Tuskegee proclaimed itself a pastoral retreat and hothouse for the nurturing of black, self-reliant Christians.”

ABOVE: Slides 24-31. Click images to view full size.

Slide 32

Slide 32 (Parsonage) Today, historians document the influence of the American Arts and Crafts movement on health resort areas located in the NE, NW, and SW. However, there is no real discussion of the movement’s influence on health resorts in the SE. Additionally, little scholarship exists discussing the contributions made by African Americans to the American Arts and Crafts movement, except for two articles: Ruskin in the Black Belt: Booker T. Washinton, Arts and Crafts, and the New Negro, by Micheal Bieze, and ‘The Dignity of Labor’: African American Connections to the Arts and Crafts Movement, 1868-1915, by Elaine Fussell Pinson. Given this, my talk will shed light on how the parsonage is critical evidence that Friendship Baptist Church, Schofield Normal and Industrial School, and dedicated Aiken Colony participants advocated and practiced the ideals of the American Arts and Crafts movement, uniquely within the context of a health resort located in the Southeast.

ABOVE: Slide 32. Click to view full size.

Slides 33 – 35

Slide 33 (FBC Church) Before Friendship Baptist Church looked to the Schofield School to build its parsonage, the church was arguably cognizant of American Arts and Crafts ideals, such as using locally sourced, quality building materials, demonstrating restraint in ornamentation, and interacting with Aiken Colony affiliates. Slide 34 (Fire Article) In 1893, a fire destroyed the original FBC church building. In 1894, to rebuild the church, the church used locally manufactured bricks made at Aiken Fire and Ornamental Brick Works. Slide 35 (Bricks)Rev. John Phillips, as noted in a historic Aiken Standard and Review article, stressed that the new building be built using such brick, believing, in the long run, using the quality material would be cheapest. Additionally, Rev. John Phillips emphasized there was “to be nothing gaudy about the (new church) building.” The contract to build the church was given to Mr. Jason V. George, responsible for building the original Willcox Hotel, Rye Patch, and the new clubhouse at the Palmetto Golf Course, all Aiken Colony institutions.

ABOVE: Slides 33, 34 and 35. Click images to view full size.

Slides 36 – 37

Slide 36 (Richard Carroll) Friendship Baptist Church and Schofield revered the work of Richard Carroll, called the Booker T. Washington of South Carolina. Carroll served as pastor at Friendship Baptist Church from 1899-1902. Also, in 1899, The State newspaper included an article summarizing Schofield School’s graduation. In the article, it states the commencement speaker was Richard Carroll. The article goes on, stating “…that while Alabama has its Booker T. Washington, South Carolina has its Richard Carroll.” Slide 37 (AS 1917, 1919) Almost twenty years later, in 1917, a few years before the construction of the parsonage, an article appeared in the Aiken Standard announcing Carroll to give a speech at Friendship Baptist Church. In the article, again, Carroll is compared to Washington. The article states Carroll is “following close in the footsteps of Booker T. Washington…” and “like Washington teaches his people that the best friend the colored race has is the good, broad minded, liberal hearted white man. According to another Aiken Standard article, in 1919, dedicated Aiken Colony participant William C. Whitney gave Carroll several thousand dollars in support of his work.

ABOVE: Slides 36-37. Click images to view full size.

Slides 38 – 40

Slide 38 (Graham and Schofield) To build the parsonage, Friendship Baptist Church selected craftsman Edinburg Graham, a former student and carpentry instructor at Schofield Normal and Industrial School. Given the American Arts and Crafts design of the parsonage, Graham was exposed to and taught American Arts and Crafts design principles at Schofield. Schofield offered manual arts training in carpentry, farming, harness-making, blacksmithing, printing, wheelwrighting, shoemaking, sewing, cooking millinery, housekeeping, and laundry work. Slide 39 (Friends’ Intelligencer) As a craft based, manual industrial model of education, Quaker “Friends’ Intelligencer” journal often proclaimed the Schofield School “recognized the coordinate importance of the education of the head, the heart, and the hand.” Slide 40 (Head, Heart, Hand) At the same time, the slogan was the motto of the Arts and Crafts movement, embraced by Arts and Crafts leaders Elbert Hubbard, Charles Voysey, and Booker T. Washington at Tuskegee.

ABOVE: Slides 38-40. Click images to view full size.

Slides 41 – 43

Slide 41 (Industries of Schofield) Like Tuskegee, an educational institution advancing the idea that education should include work with the head and heart as well as the hand, Schofield broadcasted the notion of dignity of labor. In 1899, Schofield printed a promotional brochure titled Industries of Schofield School, Aiken, S. C., Printed by Students, showing Schofield students working in the Carpenter School, Harness Shop, and Shoe Shop. Slide 42 (Industries of Schofield) Tuskegee did the same. Here is a promotional photo of Tuskegee boys working in the school workshop and several furniture works by Tuskegee students. Slide 43 (Aiken Booster) Likewise, an Aiken booster printed and circulated in 1867 declared “…it has been reported that manual labor was not honorable in the South. If the ever was a truth, hard work and steady employ have now become fashionable; and whoever cultivates his fields best, and is personally most industrious, is the most successful and the greatest gentleman.”

ABOVE: Slides 41- 43. Click images to view full size.

Slides 44 – 47

Slide 44 (Aiken Colony) The Schofield School manual arts programs garnered major support from dedicated Aiken colonists living American Arts and Crafts ideals in Aiken and elsewhere. Many winter colonists in Aiken demonstrated a love for nature, revived and preserved the best of Aiken’s regional heritage, praised utility and simplicity, held primitivism with esteem, supported local handicraft, and, distinctive to the American Arts and Crafts movement, embraced American liberal thought, grounded in classicism. Slide 45 (Schofield Chairs)William C. Whitney, Thomas Hitchcock, Miss Celestine Eustis, and other Aiken Winter Colony participants donated money and/or bought handcrafted objects made by the school. Slide 46 (Highland Park, Schofield Printing) The Schofield Printing Shop printed the daily Bill of Fare for the Highland Park Hotel, one of the most popular hotels for Aiken winter colonists. Slide 47 (Schofield Campus) An Aiken booster brochure geared toward luring Northerners to Aiken advertised the School of Schofield, presented a photo of Schofield Normal and Industrial School Grounds and Buildings. In the book, Martha Schofield and the Reeducation of the South, 1839-1916, the author states the only reason Martha Schofield was invited to be a part of the Aiken Society was because the Schofield School had become a major reason Northerners came to Aiken.

ABOVE: Slides 44-47. Click images to view full size.

Slides 48 – 53

Slide 48 (Segmental Arches) Edinburgh Graham and the Schofield Boys built the parsonage, based on an oral history given by longtime Aiken resident and centurion Cecelia McGhee in addition to architectural evidence presented by the parsonage. Slide 49 (Mantel) The interior of the parsonage presents richly colored, solid wood mantels, presenting an inlay design of a segmental arch, appearing to be upheld by two smooth, Doric columns. Slide 50 (Porch) The same design scheme of segmental arches seemingly supported by smooth Doric columns make up part of the exterior porch construction. Slide 51 (AS article) A few years later, in 1923, the Aiken Standard printed a celebratory article, stating “The members and friends of Friendship Baptist church…are rejoicing over the beautiful arch constructed by Edinburgh Graham in elevating the choir.” Slide 52 (Segmental Arch in FBC) Attributed to Edinburg, the arch inside of the Friendship Baptist Church is a large, classical segmental arch composed of wedge-shaped blocks, appearing to be upheld by rectangular, Doric columns with concave, rounded-arch window motifs. Slide 53 (Segmental Arches) As the segmental-arch designs found inside and outside of the parsonage mimic the segmental-arch design located inside of the Friendship Baptist Church and attributed to Graham, indeed, Graham, as a product of Schofield, built the parsonage.

ABOVE: Slides 48-53. Click images to view full size.

Slide 54 – 55

Slide 54 (Parsonage details) Schofield seems to have taken pride in the creation of the Friendship Baptist Church Parsonage. The beautiful Arts and Crafts mantels, windows, and frames of the parsonage reflect the content Slide 55 (Schofield Ads) of a unique, Schofield newspaper advertisement, printed during the same year the parsonage was completed, 1919-1920. Early in 1920, the Aiken Standard printed a never-before-seen Schofield School advertisement on March 3 and 10 and April 14 and 28. The advertisement reads, “SCHOFIELD SCHOOL is prepared to make screens, mantels, windows and frames. Facilities for moving houses and general advice on building.” Given the timing of the ad, printed the same year as the completion of the personage, it’s likely Schofield contributed to the parsonage project, feeling confident to further their services of crafting mantels, windows, and frames for new clients.

ABOVE: Slides 54-55. Click images to view full size.

Slide 57

I hope this talk sheds light on how the parsonage is an important architectural work, evidencing Friendship Baptist Church, Schofield Normal and Industrial School, and dedicated Aiken Colony participants advocated and practiced the ideals of the American Arts and Crafts movement, uniquely within the context of a health resort located in the Southeast. Moving forward, I hope this talk probs others to ask questions and help spotlight, on a local, regional, and national level, the major contributions made by African Americans to the American Arts and Crafts movement, particularly in the Southeast health resort area of Aiken, South Carolina. Slide 57 (Tuskegee Furniture) The Tuskegee Institute is trying, as evidenced by furniture works crafted by students, on exhibit at the Tuskegee Museum, and scholarly articles concerning Tuskegee Institute architecture. Let’s begin to do the same.

ABOVE: Slide 57. Click image to view full size.

Slide 58 (Closing Slide)

Thank you.

Local History, September 2024

Aiken County Connections: The A.C. Baker Family

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by Margaret McNab Gale

The maternal grandparents of my husband, Larry Baker Gale, Dr. John Stover Gaskin, MD and Dr. Madge Baker Gaskin, MD were early 1920s graduates of the Medical College of South Carolina. Madge Baker Gaskin was one of the first female physicians in the Palmetto State. We recently found out that Dr. Madge’s father was Reverend Andrew Charles Baker, a Baptist minister who pastored several churches in Aiken.

I found that interesting, since I have family from the Barnwell and Blackville area near Aiken.

My husband did further research on his family and found an article on the Library of Congress’s Chronicling America website. The article was from an issue of the Baptist Courier dated October 5, 1905. The article stated. “Rev. A.C. Baker, whose home is at Monroe, N.C. has been called to the Salley and Wagener Churches and recalled to the Rocky Grove Church for next year. He will be called to one of two others and will move in to his field about December 1. Rev. Baker will receive a warm welcome to South Carolina.”

The article goes on to say “Along with A.C. Baker and wife and Bro. L.J. Bristow, the writer was entertained in the hospitable home of Bro. J.T. Dorrity. He is a large cotton planter and owns an orange grove in Florida, where he spends the winter.”

It was exciting news to me that Rev. Baker had pastored churches in Aiken County since my family once owned Hampton Hill Plantation in present day Aiken, South Carolina.

Editor’s note: Aiken’s Hampton Hill Plantation was located near the present-day Dibble Road in Kalmia Hills. The 114-acre farm was bought in 1852 by distinguished botanist, Henry William Ravenel, whose experimental efforts with various fruit crops led to the successful establishment of productive orchards where he grew grapes, figs, peaches and other fruits.

This research led me to learn more about Rocky Grove Baptist Church. Rocky Grove Church was founded in 1812. It is located in Salley, South Carolina. The current church was built in 1951 using some of the timbers from their older building. The church website states that, in 1954, the church records were sent to Furman University for copying and preserving.

Mount Pleasant Memorial Baptist Cemetery, Aiken County, S.C.

I also wanted to learn more about Bro. R.T. Dorrity whose name was mentioned in the Baptist Courier which stated Rev. Baker was “entertained in the hospitable home of Bro. R.T. Dorrity”.

Reports and Resolutions of the General Assembly of South Carolina Regular Session Commencing January 8, 1901 Volume II, Part 1 lists “Thirty-Second Annual Report 318009 of the State Superintendent of Education of the State of South Carolina 1900”. Under Township and City Assessors ORANGEBURG COUNTY Appointed February 23, 1899 Rocky Grove Township… R.T. Dorrity.

The Report of M.R. Cooper, Secretary of State to the General Assembly of South Carolina for the Fiscal Year Beginning January 1, 1900 and Ending December 1900, under Township and City Assessors Orangeburg County Appointed February 25, 1899 under Rocky Grove Township also lists R.T. Dorrity.

Researching Rev. Baker’s companion, Bro. L.J. Bristow also interested me. According to a Baptist Journal, Pastor L.T. Bristow of Abbeville attended a meeting with Dr. Howard Lee Jones of Charleston L.T. Bristow married Caroline Winkler. Caroline’s father was Edwin Theodore Winkler, DD, LLD. The Newspapers by Ancestry obituary website states “Dr. Winkler was born in Savannah in 1823, entered Brown University in 1839, attended Newton Theological Seminary in 1843, and in 1845 was assistant editor of the Christian Index.”

The obituary also noted that Winkler was at one time the pastor of the Citadel Square Baptist Church in Charleston, South Carolina, and in 1872 became pastor of Siloam Baptist Church in Marion, Alabama. His Doctor of Divinity degree was conferred upon him by Furman University in South Carolina.

Dr. Winkler authored several theological commentaries that are currently still in print.

It was a great surprise to me that Baptist pastor L.J. Bristow’s daughter was Gwen Bristow, born in Marion, SC, the best-selling American author and journalist who was a close personal friend of notable science fiction writer Ray Bradbury. Bristow attended Anderson Baptist College in Anderson, South Carolina for one year before transferring to Judson College in Marion, Alabama. Bristow graduated from Judson College in 1924, the year her parents moved to New Orleans.

After college, she attended the Pulitzer School of Journalism at Columbia University, where she became a secretary for a Polish baroness of Riverside Drive. Gwen then moved back home to live with her parents in New Orleans on the grounds of Southern Baptist Hospital, where her father had become superintendent.

According to the South Carolina Academy of Authors, Gwen Bristow wrote over a dozen books, some translated into eleven different languages, and several of which were made into movies. I remember as a young girl reading her book Celia Garth: A Story of Charleston in the Revolution.

Bristow earned a place in such biographical and critical works as Current Biography, Contemporary Authors, Atlantic Monthly, Times Literary Supplement, New York Times Book Review, Who’s Who in America, and Who’s Who in American Women.

South Carolina has a rich history of distinguished residents with interesting stories to tell for all who call the Palmetto State their home.

________________

Margaret McNab Gale (“Peggy”) holds a Master’s in Information and Library Science from the University of South Carolina.  She has written over 50 articles on the history of South Carolina in journals and newspapers throughout South Carolina, and she has given many presentations to audiences around the state. A passionate genealogist, she is a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, the National Society of Colonial Dames XVII Century, the Daughters of 1812, and the Jamestowne Society. With her husband, Larry, she owns computer consulting and security firm Perceptual Systems and a photography company, Larry Gale Photography.

Local History, May 2023

The Virginia Acres Question: 1951-1962

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Part Two in a Series of Five or More

Part One: Aiken’s Early Parks and Recreation: A Historical Perspective
Next up: The Virginia Acres Question: 1962-1968

Newcomers to Aiken may not know that Virginia Acres Park was created atop a 55-acre subdivision called Virginia Acres. The City’s decision to purchase and demolish this subdivision was at the center of a controversy that played out in local headlines and editorial pages from 1962-1965. 

Built during 1952-1953 at a cost of over $1 million dollars, Virginia Acres housed construction workers and early Savannah River Plant employees. The subdivision was comprised of 213 houses and duplexes over a 55-acre tract. Here, some local history is in order.

Aiken’s Atomic Boom

Between 1955 and 1970, the City of Aiken experienced a housing glut — specifically a glut of low-cost housing. Before the housing glut, however, there was a brief period of time (1951-1954) when there existed both a severe housing shortage and an explosive housing boom. In the wake were thousands of modest, two and three-bedroom homes built to house construction workers, service workers, and the soon-to-arrive employees — called “DuPonters” — of the new H-Bomb plant at Savannah River Plant (SRP). 

These were unusual times. It would be difficult to overstate the enormity of the SRP project and the needs it presented during those earliest months and years following the Aiken Standard’s November 29, 1950 headline announcing the billion-dollar bomb plant coming to Aiken.1

The story also made front page news in the New York Times,2 where the potential for creating even greater destruction than that wrought by the 1945 bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was being imagined for the new H-bomb plant:

“Scientists have estimated that a hydrogen bomb — if perfected — might produce 1,000 times the energy of the atomic bomb that was exploded over Hiroshima, Japan, and thus spread destruction over a much larger area.” — From the New York Times front-page article, “US Picks Site of Atom Plant to Help on Hydrogen Bomb,” November 29, 1950.

Of course, it was not the production of bombs to be attempted at the plant, but the production of materials for “super bombs,” as these H-bombs were being called. In charge of the design, operations and management of the plant was the explosives division of the E.I. DuPont de Nemours Company.

According to the Atomic Energy Commission’s 1951 numbers, (which turned out to be underestimates), the Aiken area could expect to see an immediate population rise of 25,000 workers and families. This was predicted to peak to around 100,000 in 1952, between the estimated 36,000 construction workers and the thousands of other workers including engineers, scientists, managers, clerical workers, and numerous other categories of workers necessary to support the myriad government and and commercial services during construction of the plant.3 This, in addition to about 5,000 people in the communities of Ellenton, Dunbarton, Hawthorne, Robbins, Leigh and Meyers Mill who were being displaced by the plant.

All would need places to live — some on a temporary basis, others on a permanent basis. 

Eight thousand workers were expected to be hired in the first six months of 1951, alone. The burden for housing the initial influx was borne primarily by Aiken and Barnwell Counties, along with Augusta, Georgia. Trailer camps, both large and small, sprouted like mushrooms along the roadsides from Aiken to New Ellenton, and from Williston and Barnwell to Jackson, Beech Island, North Augusta and all points north, south, east and west in a 60-mile radius of Aiken.4 Aiken’s own Robbins Trailer City — located on Pine Log Rd in the area where Mallard Lake subdivision now stands — contained over 1200 trailers to house these workers.5

In the early stages of SRP construction, the housing shortage was so dire that some workers lived out of cars and tents. Others squatted in empty houses and outbuildings in the countryside. Rooms were rented out of private homes, and larger homes, including Banksia, were pressed into service as boarding houses. Aiken Housing authority even offered up the local projects, which had been built for poor people, to the Atomic Energy Commission, an offer that was declined.

Some workers commuted long distances over back roads each day. There were no interstates at the time, and a lot of roads had yet to be paved, so a 60-mile drive was a different matter than today. The urgent search for a house to rent or buy in the local market became almost a part-time job for some workers and their families. 

Numerous starter-house type subdivisions began to spring up, their quickly-constructed, slab-foundation houses snatched up as fast as they could be built.

In Aiken’s northside Crosland Park, (which is where my family started out), there were 426 houses6 built. In the nearby Vanwood subdivision were another 53 houses7. There were 85 more houses in Silver Bluff Estates, 123 in Forest Heights, 244 apartments and duplexes in Governor Aiken Park,8 and 213 more in Virginia Acres9. These, in addition to numerous other subdivisions sprouting in North Augusta, New Ellenton, Williston, and other smaller towns throughout Aiken County. 

1953 Crosland Park house. From our family photo album.

Simultaneous was the need to provide better-grade housing for the permanent DuPont workforce, the bulk of which would arrive in 1953-1954. This resulted in the construction of yet more subdivisions — Aiken Estates, Edgewood Manor, Dartmoor Woods, Dunbarton Oaks, College Acres, Westmount, Aiken Heights, Kalmia Hills, and Highland Park, to name a few. 

Beginning around 1955 — with construction phasing out, and with DuPonters moving out of starter homes and into more upscale housing — the starter homes began to empty. By 1959-1960, the Federal Housing Administration (FHA), which had originally insured the loans financing the construction of these houses — loans which were now going into default — bought six of the starter-home subdivisions: Vanwood, Crosland Park, Silver Bluff Estates. Forest Heights, Virginia Acres, and Governor Aiken Park. 

Paradoxically, the same federal government that created this glut announced in 1959 that it was prohibited, by its own FHA rules, from selling these now-excess houses to private interests, so as “to prevent sudden flooding of a local real estate market.”10

Here, it must be pointed out that, even under the most ideal of circumstances, the official disposal of excess federal property, such as surplus houses, was, and still is, an arduous task. It appeared, however, that there was more than red tape binding the sales of these houses and transforming these subdivisions, recently bustling with life, into places described as dilapidated eyesores and ghost towns.

Uncle Sam

The disposition of each subdivision over the next ten years was handled a little differently. The 53-house Vanwood subdivision — earlier leased by the City of Aiken from the FHA for $1 per year — was purchased by the City in 1966 for $8,000.11 The Forest Heights homes remained on the rental market until annexation into the City in 1966, 12 after which the subdivision was put on public sewer, its streets paved, and the houses refurbished — all on the FHA’s dime — in preparation to be be offered up to “qualified buyers.” 13 The 500+ houses in Crosland Park and Silver Bluff Estates were the first to put on the market in 1961-62. 

In 1961, Crosland Park houses were refurbished on the FHA dime and successfully marketed as a retirement community to draw well-to-do retirees from across the country. This was accomplished through ad campaigns run in both national-circulation magazines and metropolitan newspapers from Florida to New York and westward.

The local realtor handling the Crosland Park sales for the FHA said that the “major effort” was “to bring retired persons to Aiken from other parts of the country.” The lure was the attractive, reduced prices that were designed to attract a flood of interest. According to one account, there were some 8,000 queries received. 

Of course, local retirees could also apply, as long as they could “meet the requirements established,” which included the ability to “show that they are in reasonably good physical condition in order to avoid burdening the local hospital” and that their retirement income was “high enough for them to live in order to avoid draining local welfare services.”14

In 1962, and on the coattails of the highly successful Crosland Park campaign, the houses in Silver Bluff Estates (the neighborhood behind today’s Home Depot store) were refurbished — also on the federal dime — and promoted for sale to retirees. As with Crosland Park, the realtor handling the sales was authorized to spend, “whatever is necessary to place each house in first class condition before it is sold.”15 Unlike Crosland Park — which lacked walking-distance access to grocery stores and churches — Silver Bluff Estates seemed to have it all: four churches and two shopping centers, (Mitchell Shopping Center and Virginia Acres Shopping Center), all in easy walking distance.

While the the majority of Crosland Park and Silver Bluff Estates houses were sold principally to retirees, these houses were also rented and sold to young couples and families who could afford the attractively reduced rents and/or low down payments, easy mortgage terms, low sale prices and other FHA-backed incentives to lure residents to these neighborhoods.

The histories on Governor Aiken Park and Virginia Acres played out differently than the other four FHA-owned subdivisions. By 1961, both were being variously described as run down, dilapidated, ghost towns. Were there not enough qualified buyers to fill these hundreds of homes? Or had the market for low-cost housing simply been tapped dry?

Jimmy Crow

Throughout Aiken’s 15-year glut of low-cost housing, there existed, paradoxically, a severe shortage of housing for lower income people. This issue was compounded by a scourge of substandard housing throughout Aiken County, whose numbers began to be officially counted in July 1961, with the City’s passing of “the Housing Code Ordinance,” which set standards for housing, such as window screens, hot water, indoor plumbing and electricity.16

From the April 24, 1961 minutes, Aiken City Council, Aiken, SC.



By the mid-1960s, the City of Aiken had a queue of condemnation and demolition orders, and an even longer queue of people on the waiting list for public-assistance housing.

Locally, several federal projects — all segregated by race — had been built to replace some of the substandard housing. In the early 1950s, an 80-unit project was built for Whites in Gloverville. By 1960-61, several more had been built for Black people in Aiken. 17

While substandard housing is primarily an issue of economic class, the barriers to decent housing were infinitely more formidable for Black people due to generations of federal, state and local laws and policies specifically designed to politically, socially, and economically disenfranchise Black people from education, employment, and housing.

Here, a long exposition could be written to detail the local effects of post-WWII mechanized agriculture in the cotton industry, plus the decline of the Winter Colony — two primary employers for local Black workers — along with the ongoing institutions of segregation and discriminatory hiring practices in textile mills and other area industries, including, and most prominently during these years, the local nuclear industry, whose well-paying jobs and housing windfalls didn’t spill equally onto everyone. 

Another exposition could be written on the institutionalized segregation and discrimination created through zoning ordinances in towns across America and, at the federal level, through the establishment of the FHA in 1934 along with various housing acts and legislation (1932, 1933, 1934, 1937, 1940, 1942, 1947, 1948, 1949, 1953, 1954, 1955, 1956, 1959, 1961, 1964, 1965, 1966, 1968, 1970 and onward). The political architects designed this legislation to assist White people buy homes and to expressly prevent Black people from buying homes.

It wasn’t until the Civil Rights Act of 1968 — not to be confused with the Civil Rights Act of 1965 — that the words, “unlawful to discriminate in the sale, rental, or financing of housing,” appeared in one of these acts.

Until the Civil Rights Act of 1968, (which contained the Federal Housing Act), there was little to nothing protecting would-be home buyers from discriminatory laws and policies. One of the most effective and enduring barriers to home ownership was redlining — a banking industry policy enacted with the inception of the FHA during the 1930s New Deal era. Through redlining, the federal government worked in tandem with the banking industry to enforce segregation by preemptively disqualifying home loans in certain neighborhoods regardless of a prospective purchaser’s income.

To see how these policies worked in real-time, click the screenshot below to link to and explore an interactive map of circa 1940 redlining in nearby Augusta, Georgia.

While the Civil Rights Act of 1968 put an official end to redlining and reduced some of the barriers to Black home buyers, it also — as happened with all of the housing acts that preceded it — accomplished the opposite of its ostensible purpose. More on this later.

Generations of such laws and policies left disproportionate numbers of Black people at the whims of slum lords who rented drafty, vermin-infested, rubble for profit. Whereas a hardworking White person could potentially overcome the stacked deck and pull themselves up by the bootstraps, such measures were — by law, policy, and practice — largely forbidden to Black people.

In the 1950s-60s era of construction and operations at Savannah River Plant, Jim Crow was a prominent presence in the workplace. Locally, the stories spread primarily through word of mouth while, nationally, the story was told in senate subcommittees and in newspapers of record.

DuPont’s position on the matter, as quoted in a New York Times letter in 1951, was that “all employment policies will be determined by local project management, with due consideration to prevailing racial customs and practices.” 18

The Atomic Energy Commission’s position, as also stated in 1951, was, “When we hired the DuPont company, we hired their employment policies.” 19

That same year, the first accusations of discrimination were waged against DuPont, claiming that, while White people of all education levels were being trained and hired for well-paying government jobs, Black people were being denied these opportunities.

Black laborers’ skills were reportedly being downgraded, with these workers being shunted into menial labor jobs and for lesser pay than White co-workers doing the same jobs. According to Harold O. DeWitt, acting industrial relations secretary for the Urban League’s Southern Field Division, in 1951, the nine American Federation of Labor unions in the area were “undergrading qualified Negro workers and making promotions difficult.” DeWitt also charged that “provisions to train women clerical workers were not available to Negroes.” Urban Research investigations revealed that Black people constituted “53.6% of the total population in the six South Carolina counties and five Georgia counties in the hydrogen plant area.”20

Yet, according to DuPont’s own numbers, only 12%, of the estimated 25,000 workforce were Black, and, of these, fewer than 3% worked outside of the unskilled category. None had white-collar jobs. 21

While the DuPont construction contract with the Atomic Energy Commission contained a non-discrimination clause, DuPont would not hire construction workers without the recommendation of the local union. According to R.A. Brooks, then-head of the Aiken NAACP, the local union in Augusta was recommending only White workers.22

In December 1951, President Truman appointed a top level committee to enforce the non-discrimination clause but, according to NAACP testimony before a Senate Labor Management subcommittee in April 1952, Black people were still being frozen out of jobs. One cited example involved a bulldozer operator who thought he had a job, until the prospective employer saw his skin color. According to NAACP testimony, the “employment curbs thrown up against Negroes” were known by the “highest” officials in the Atomic Energy Commission. 23

In 1953, the NAACP was still lodging complaints of discrimination against DuPont, claiming that the company was training and hiring large numbers of White workers, but consistently giving “the runaround to coloreds seeking similar jobs.” 24 DuPont continued to deny that discrimination was taking place.

In 1954 — by which time much of the construction had wound down, and the construction workers moved away — the situation “improved.“ DuPont “removed all signs designating racial discrimination” 25 and they reportedly opened eating facilities and comfort stations at the plant to all employees.

In 1962, under President Kennedy, Civil Rights groups were still pushing for DuPont to comply with Presidential executive orders banning racial discrimination by federal contractors. 26 Kennedy signed yet another executive order to better enforce the previous executive orders. There were now five different executive orders in place, signed by four different presidents since 1941 — all of them forbidding discrimination in military and government workplaces.

In 1962 — as in 1942 and 1952 — it wasn’t a lack of rules to blame for keeping half of the local population from the well-paying jobs at the bomb plant, but a lack of will among those in power to enforce the rules.

_______________________


Next up: The Virginia Acres Question: 1962-1968

The above histories are incomplete, at best. The recording of racial histories, like so much history, has traditionally been piecemeal and only brought together, piece-by-piece and perspective by perspective, over time. I welcome further contributions to the history I’ve presented here.
____________________

This series is written in memory of my father, Arthur H. Dexter. His files on these histories led me to further research and to complete some of the stories he started, but didn’t have opportunity to finish.

  1. “AEC to Construct Huge Plant Near Aiken.” Aiken Standard. November 29, 1950.
  2. Wood, Lewis. “US Picks Site of Atom Plant to Help on Hydrogen Bomb,” New York Times, November 29, 1950.
  3. Freeman, Ira Henry. “Atomic Plant D.P.’s Escape Unscathed.” New York Times. October 1, 1951
  4. Langley, Carl. “Booming and Brawling: Early Days of SRP Kept Lawmen Busy.” Aiken Standard. March 26, 1989.
  5. Riddick, Allen. “The Quinns and Robbins Trailer City.” Memories of Growing Up and Living in Aiken, SC. Written and compiled by Allen Riddick. (Rocket Publishing, 2011). 263.
  6. “FHA Offers Houses to Retired Persons” Aiken Standard, March 20, 1961.
  7. “FHA Leases Vanwood Buildings to City,” Aiken Standard, July 4, 1962.
  8. “Governor Aiken Park Houses to be Done Over.” Aiken Standard. January 19, 1968.
  9. “Let’s Study the ‘Virginia Acres’ Question” Aiken Standard. April 27, 1964
  10. “FHA May Sell 200 Aiken Houses. “ Aiken Standard. May 27, 1959.
  11. Aiken City Council meeting minutes October 10, 1966.
  12. Aiken City Council meeting minutes. May 9, 1966.
  13. “Forest Heights Homes to Be Placed on Market.” Aiken Standard. January 23, 1967.
  14. “Special FHA Plan: 50 Crosland Park Homes Offered to U.S. Retired.” Aiken Standard. December 7, 1960.
  15. “Homes in Silver Bluff to be Offered Retirees” Aiken Standard. March 2, 1962.
  16. “City Council Passes Ordinance Affecting Substandard Homes,” Aiken Standard, April 26, 1961.
  17. “Charleston Firm Wins Aiken Job,” Aiken Standard, June 8, 1960.
  18. Granger, Lester B. “Letters to the Times: Discrimination-Charged Employment Restrictions in Atomic Energy Projects Protested,” New York Times, October 11, 1951.
  19. Granger, Lester B. “Letters to the Times.”
  20. “Atom Plant Hiring Scored as Biased.” New York Times, June 27, 1951.
  21. “Hydrogen Bomb Unit Accused of Race Bias.” New York Times, September 19, 1951.
  22. “Hydrogen Bomb Unit Accused.”
  23. Trussell, C.P. “Job Bias Charged Atomic Plant.” New York Times. April 18, 1952.
  24. “Racial Discrimination Charged in Atom Project Hiring. “ New York Times October 12, 1953.
  25. Illson, Murray. “Negro Job Status Found Improving,” New York Times. June 27, 1954.
  26. Braestrup, Peter. “President Spurs Negro Job Rights. “ New York Times. June 23, 1962.
Aiken County, Local History, Nature News

From Howard’s Pond to Misty Lake

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70 Years of Change along Franklin’s Branch of Little Horse Creek and Some Current Conditions.

by Don Moniak
April 20, 2023


In 2022, the South Carolina State Parks Department (SCSP) contracted the Phase I Environmental Assessment in 2022 for what is tentatively called Misty Lake State Park. An introduction to the new, yet to open 190-acre park was provided this past December in the Aiken Chronicles, and Elizabeth Hustad of the Post and Courier of North Augusta recently provided a good review of the current management situation.

The assessment was part of the due diligence effort by SCSP to insure there were no hidden liabilities. It provides insights into past land ownership, soils, wetlands, and basic vegetation types. It is not an inventory of the flora and fauna. The middle section of Franklin Branch of Little Horse Creek runs through the park, so it is susceptible to upstream activities as well as stormwater runoff from Interstate 20 and Interstate 520.

One of the more interesting features found within the assessment is a series of aerial photos dating back to 1951, which provides perspective into land management activities and the growth in the area.

1951: There are few homes, several larger farms, and Howard’s Pond (lower center) is one of the few reservoirs. There is no interstate highway. There is a hardwood forest with wetlands to the northeast of the pond. Only a portion of that stand, and the stand of trees to the east of the pond, that was a private recreation area before and after the SCEG purchase, will be one of the few areas to not endure much change beyond a maturing of the forest.


1962: A more prominent road can be seen slicing through the northern part of the current boundaries. Some clearings can be seen north of the boundaries.


1971: Interstate 20 appears for the first time. There is a new pond South of Howard’s Pond and to the north of the interstate highway in Upper Franklin’s Branch.


1981: Homes begin to appear off Ridge Road to the northeast, another pond was constructed to the north, and four more appear to the South. The utility right of way appears more prominently, perhaps a sign of more advanced clearing techniques.


2011: The change over a twenty year period is evident. On three sides, subdivisions off Ascauga Lake Road surround the the SCEG retreat area obtained in the early 80’s. Palmetto Place is to the South, Sudlow Crossing to the West.

Two ponds to the South appear muddy, a probable sign of upstream disturbances and heavy rains.

Above the retreat’s recreation area, SCEG had, since 1987, clearcut and replanted much of the northern tract and west of the pond with loblolly pine. A dense young stand is evident around much of the area north of Misty Lake/Howard’s Pond; and west across the pond.


2017: SCEG harvested the plantation area, cutting rows of trees out to leave the rowed look to the north. This area will likely require some forest management in the future to avoid fuel accumulations and bark beetle infestations. Currently it is a stand prone to a decline in upper canopy structure due to high density of the plantation setting.

The west side of the pond appears denser because access was cut off in the 2010’s, in large part due to construction of the I-520 extension into South Carolina, know as the Palmetto Parkway. South Carolina Department of Transportation’s (SCDOT) stormwater design resulted in heavy flooding on some private property east of the route. At least two lawsuits were filed against SCDOT over the reported damages.

The area around this culvert, which was underneath a bridge that accessed the western side of the property, was blown out on Franklin’s Branch; reportedly a part of the impacts from increased stormwater runoff. (photo below, all photos taken in January 2023)

Photo by Don Moniak. January 2023.

Downstream from the old bridge is a beaver pond that functions in part to filter sediments and any pollution from the interstate and other upstream activities.


The largest tree seen on the properties, this Loblolly Pine measured 38 inches in diameter and was approximately 95-105 feet tall (as I recollect)


Howard’s Pond/Misty Lake looking east across to the old SCEG recreation and picnic area.


The dam was recently reworked and fortified, good news for downstream residents, Lower Franklin’s Branch, and the SCPD which now owns this asset and liability.

Some of the towering, physically mature (well past economic maturity) Loblolly Pine in the recreation and picnic area. Many of the trees measure more than 30 inches in diameter and are more than 100 feet tall. Not a good place for humans to be in a lightning storm, but a wonderful habitat for fauna, fungi, mosses and other bryophytes that thrive on rotting wood on large, sapling-sized branches.

Compare this to the weak upper canopy structure seen in a 25-35 year loblolly plantation.

Still, there are relatively wild hardwood stands along the springs and creek that remain and provide more diversity.