|
CHAPTER FIFTH - JOE CREWS
The reader will
naturally ask, what became of Joe Crews in these exciting scenes? Surely,
this military aid to the Governor, or rather his Lieutenant-Governor, as
far as Laurens was concerned, must have had a prominent place in the
picture. He who had made so many speeches, threatening carnage and blood,
would now, certainly, come to the front, sweep the " white trash" out of
his way, and thus unify his dominions. Alas for him, the truth of history
must be told! He was on the ground, he heard the reports of his costly
rifles, and he rushed - but it was the other way.
His escape gives
the lie to any charge of "conspiracy," in bringing in the "riot." Had
there been any thing of the kind, his fate would have been fixed at the
very outset. On the contrary, he was allowed to run from the scene
unnoticed; the attention of all being fixed on the real point of
danger—the armory.
He afterwards published an account of his escape
in a Columbia newspaper, telling how he secreted himself in a large hollow
log in the immediate vicinity of the town; how he was fed there for three
days and nights, and how he was kept constantly informed of all that was
going on. That within the three days, limited by law, he had opened and
counted the ballot boxes, which had been safely brought to him from his
house, and had taken the result of the count safely to
Columbia.
What a picture is here presented to the imagination of
the patriot! Remember, we were, at this time, approaching the first "
Centennial of American Independence" and that this scene is laid near the
heart of South Carolina, one of the " old thirteen." That the cardinal
principle established by this "independence," is the sovereignty of the
people.
But let us creep up to that little copse of wood, and what
do we see? There, at the mouth of a large hollow log, where his own
conduct had driven him for refuge from an outraged people, sits this old
degraded negro trader, with the suffrages of some three thousand of the
"sovereign people," sealed, in several boxes, before him. He is, at one
and the same time, a candidate for the votes of these people, and sole
Commissioner of Elections to take charge of them. He was, a day or two
before, the chief manipulator of these voters themselves, and now had the
sole right to count out the votes and record the result. His managers of
elections who should have assisted him, had all fled to parts unknown ;
but he was equal to the occasion. Not wishing to be troubled with handling
so many small bits of paper, he pulls out of his side pocket a greasy
memorandum book, writes down a few figures to satisfy his congenial "
powers that be," and the work is done! The political fate of a whole
county is thus fixed for two years to come. Can Dahomey or even Louisiana
exceed this in broad farce ?
Joe did not let the public know how he
got out of the county, but Capt. Estes, of the United States Infantry,
gave all the particulars to the writer of this narrative. Capt. Estes had
reached Laurens with a small garrison, the fourth day after the riot, and
had taken quarters for himself and men in the abandoned depot of the
Laurens Railroad. On Sunday night, October 30th, Joe presented himself at
head-quarters, and demanded protection from the United States forces, and
safe transportation beyond the limits of Laurens County. Joe was looking
very seedy and haggard, and the Captain's sympathy was soon enlisted. He
told him to return about five o'clock in the morning and, if he would
implicitly obey all orders, he would soon take him to a place of safety.
Joe came, long before the hour fixed, and rendered himself so disgusting
by his boasts and threats, that the captain determined to have a little
innocent revenge.
The conveyance was to be a square-bodied handcar,
and the passengers, all told—two men at the crank, two armed soldiers, one
on each side of the captain; and Joe was to be wrapped in canvas and
deposited in the bottom of the car, to represent a quarter of beef. This
arrangement was literally carried out; and they had not proceeded many
miles before sounds of distress were heard from the canvas. In answer to
his inquiry, Joe told the captain he would certainly die, if he continued
to breathe the same air much longer. Estes reminded him of his promise,
and assured him that he would no longer be responsible for his safety, if
he ventured even to cut the sack. As the sounds of distress still
continued, the captain cut a small slit just where his mouth was, and gave
him partial relief.
With this small supply of oxygen, Joe began
again to swagger, though lying in sackcloth and red clay. But the captain
could easily silence him by asking his men if they did not notice some
suspicious-looking groups of men, apparently watching them from a
distance. This would so stir Joe's blood, that the oxygen would not serve
the increased circulation, and sounds of distress were again mumbled
through the crevice.
Sometimes the captain would order a sudden halt,
and, while he whispered to his men that he believed the enemy was about to
rush upon them, he declared he could hear Joe's heart beating distinctly.
After one of these sudden halts, they all left the car, with Joe lying
there alone, and, after a few minutes, the captain heard a feeble call
from the car. Upon his assuring Joe that there was no immediate danger,
and that they had only stopped to pick a few blackberries, Joe actually
arose to a sitting position, with the exclamation, " D—n your
blackberries, when a man's life is in danger." The captain simply ordered
him down again, with the alternative of desertion to his fate; and
instantly Joe was again metamorphosed into a quarter of beef. The captain
avers that he could see traces of perspiration even through the sack, and
really expected to find his braggadocio spirit completely wilted, after
thirty odd miles of such experience.
He was greatly mistaken,
however; for, no sooner was Joe fairly on his feet once more, than he
began to harrangue listening groups of admirers at his landing place, in
Newberry, in a strain that ancient Pistol might have envied. Pistol when
relieved of the presence of the infuriated Welshman, whose leek he had
just been forced to eat, cried out, "All hell shall stir for this!" Joe
was for stirring up the whole army and navy of the United States—a threat
more terrible to his audience. Pistol could show a "bloody cockscomb," as
some excuse for his blustering, while Joe's skin was wholly intact, though
saturated in every part with sweat and moisture.
Such was the exit
of this famous "Colonel of Militia;" and it may be added, that his face
was not again seen in Laurens county for more than two years
afterwards.
The little irregularity in the counting of the ballots
could easily be slurred over, in Columbia, as his returns were to be made
to those of the same political family. The pretended counting must have
been done by Crews alone, as all the managers were scattered to the four
winds, and the boxes were left at his house. Even his infamous coadjutor,
"the Hon. Senator Owens," had made his exit, and shed his perspiration,
under a load of wheat-straw, in a wagon bound for Greenville. This was an
aristocratic method of transportation, as most of the others felt
constrained to burrow all the day-time, and only sneak softly away at
night, like other beasts of prey.
Nothing has heretofore been said
of this Owens, mainly because he always seemed to give the lead to Joe,
and one such character is enough for one book. But those who knew them
both, among their appropriate associates, regarded Owens as the meaner of
the two. They contrast them somewhat in the following manner:
Joe had audacity ; Owens is a sneak ! Joe was the
highwayman, who, when his victims were all disarmed, could breathe forth
great swelling words; Owens is the assassin, who deals the deadly blow
from behind, and slinks off into the darkness of night. "To give the
devil his due," Joe has been known to perform some acts of real
kindness, and even of charity; but, from universal testimony, no such
sentiments "have ever approached the head or heart" of Owens. Joe made
no pretensions; Owens can be a genuine Uriah Heape, in humility, while
talking to such white men as can stomach him. From statements made by
those who ought to know him best in Columbia, he was more malignant and
fiendish against those of his own race, in the Laurens troubles, than
Joe ever was, and was really responsible for most of the outrageous
treatment of innocent citizens, though he managed to keep " behind the
curtains" all the time. As to their war record, Joe stayed at home and
cheated on a private scale; Owens deserted to the enemy, early in the
war, and cheated both the army and Confederacy.
It is a disgusting task to unearth so vile a
character as this of Owens, from the sinks and sewers of his moral
prostitution ; and, for the future, the reader is assured, that his memory
will be left there to rot, as far as this narrative is concerned. The
mortifying part of the task is to confess, that the leprosy of his example
has tainted others, who were weak in principle, but strong in
covetousness. They saw that, in his case —"Plait sin in gold, And the
strong lance of Justice, hurtless, breaks." And they soon yearned for the
same kind of armor. 'Tis true, they soon found that they had to stoop
lower, and delve deeper in pollution than they ever dreamed of; but what
miner, when fairly under ground, regards such sacrifices, when blinded by
the prospect of the shining reward?
Still more mortifying is it to
confess, that most of these, both leaders and followers, are native South
Carolinians. The consoling thought is, that this base apostacy is confined
to no period nor clime. "In the days of innocency," even in the contracted
garden, planted by God himself, the beguiling serpent was found, a ready
tool for the " father of lies; "and in these degenerate times, in the
midst of demoralization and misrule, is it to wondered at that he is
rather the tempted than the tempter? We can only the more admire that
manhood and integrity, landmarks of a former civilization, which, in the
midst of wrecked fortunes and blasted hopes, can add fresh dignity to
words long familiar, but never so fully felt before — "All is lost, save
honor!"
The friends of Joe Crews (if he had any) must excuse the
writer for sometimes designating him as "Joe" and sometimes as "Crews."
The fact is, like Napoleon Bonaparte, he had distinguished both names, and
was as well known by the one as by the other. At the time of which we are
writing his influence seemed really potential with the motley crew who
were managing the ship of State; and some of his statements, personal to
the writer, have reached even beyond their filthy purlieus, and, in this
con-nection, seem to call for some notice on his part. If this serves no
other purpose, it will, at least, show the license of these times, when
fabrications the most monstrous could be established by any amount of
"legal " but venal evidence; and will also illustrate Joe's accuracy and
ingenuity in reporting facts, and in making charges.
The Female
College is next door to the residence of Mrs. Crews; and sometime after
the row was over, it was reported to the president that Mrs. C. was in her
porch, surrounded by her children, and that they all seemed to be in great
distress. He at once went over, and invited her to come over to the
College with her family, if they felt uneasy where they were, and he would
give them the same protection he was able to give his own family. Mrs. C.
thanked him cordially, but remarked that, as she had never done any harm
in the town, she did not believe that any one would injure either herself
or her children. The president confirmed her in this opinion, and returned
to his own home.
Now, the version given by Joe is, that Maj.
Leland, President of Laurens Female College, deliberately resorted to this
device to get the family out of the house in order that it might be
robbed, or burned, or both!
A little later in the day, when the sheriff's
"posse" was drawn up in line in front of Mrs. C.'s house, waiting for the
wagons to come for the arms stored in the barn-armory, this same gentlemen
was standing near the gate as a spectator. The officer in command of the
"posse" requested him to step up to the house, and assure Mrs. C. that
neither her front nor back yard would be trespassed upon, as the only
object of the visit was the barn, which was separated from the front yard
by a wide lane. In complying with this request, Mrs. C. handed him a
bright-barrelled Springfield rifle, requesting him to take it, as it
belonged to the State, and had been left there a day or*two before, by an
old colored man. He at first declined to take anything from the house, but
as she insisted that it would be a relief to her if he would do so, he
brought it as far as the gate. There he met the Rev. Mr. Kisler, and
jocularly remarking that his would be the safest hands for such a piece,
he handed it to him. In justice to Mr. K., it should be remarked, that he
was seen to deposit the gun in the first of the wagons that
arrived.
Joe's version of this is, that Maj. L. visited Mrs. C.s
house a second time, and at night, and took therefrom a pet fowling-piece
of his, valued at seventy-five dollars, notwithstanding the entreaties and
pleas of Mrs. C. to the contrary.
These misrepresentations of his
motives and conduct, did not strike the party aimed at very pleasantly. He
was complaining of them once in the presence of a pious, but pleasantly
sarcastic lady friend, who remarked that he deserved this treatment for
flying directly in the face of a plain injunction of scripture-In vain did
he search his memory for any text condemning kindness and charity; and, on
calling triumphantly for one, he was silenced by the reply, " Did not our
Saviour Himself say, 'cast not your pearls before swine, lest they trample
them under foot, and turn again and rend you?'
There were other
fabrications of Joe's which are too absurd to be recorded. But to those of
us who resided in Laurens, in those dark days, they loomed up in very
threatening proportions, when we knew with what facility, any charge,
however absurd and ridiculous could be substantiated by any number of
sworn witnesses. In fact, the charge on which the writer was finally
arrested and imprisoned for five long weeks, did not have even the
semblance of foundation which might be claimed for these.
|
