In Tales from Brookgreen, this native Carolinian retells stories she heard from two early hostesses at Brookgreen Gardens: Mrs. Genevieve Wilcox Chandler and the author’s cousin, Miss Corrie Dusenbury. Through these stories she conveys her sense of romance, history, and mystery hidden just beneath the serenely beautiful surface of Brookgreen Gardens, one of South Carolina’s most popular tourist attractions.
The author welcomes your comments and questions. Contact her at:
[email protected]
The author as she was …
… and remains always
… in her heart.
Acknowledgements
The youthful delight that my son Moses expressed at hearing these stories reminded me of my own enthusiasm for them. My son Aaron, ever the editor, guided me in writing them down. Alice Duncan typed and retyped. Larry supported this and all my “family stuff.” My parents gave me their love and support always. Honey’s Horry heritage and Daddy’s interest in “local color” shaped my love of the Carolina Lowcountry.
Genevieve Chandler Peterkin encouraged me to recall these stories from my early visits to Brookgreen. She was also kind enough to show me her mother’s mysterious Wachesaw beads (after all these years), as well as the Old Methodist Parsonage, and to arrange a family tour of Alice’s home in its new location.
The kind hospitality of Mary Emily and Nelson Jackson II repeatedly brought me back to South Carolina. Their daughter Kaki shared her own recollections of our Cousin Corrie’s interest in the supernatural with me.
Helen Benso, Vice President of Marketing at Brookgreen Gardens, assisted with this project in several ways including obtaining permission to use materials, correcting factual errors, and providing encouragement.
Most importantly, Cousin Corrie and Miss Genevieve told the tales recorded on these pages. I thank them for sharing their wonderful stories of Brookgreen with all of us who love the Carolina Lowcountry.
Extended Copyright
Copyright 2009 by Lynn Michelsohn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations included in articles or reviews.
Ebook Edition 1.4 S (2/15)
This book is also available in paperback.
Images are used with permission from photographs by Welden Bayliss, Aaron Michelsohn, Moses Michelsohn, and for Front Cover: “The Live Oak Allee at Brookgreen Gardens” from a post card by Photo Arts, Inc., Winnsboro, SC.
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Dedication
For Moses and Aaron,
I hope these recollections convey some of the magic and wonder of my childhood, while engaging your interest in the riches of your South Carolina heritage.
BONUS FEATURES
These Bonus Features include special sections available only in this ebook (in addition to the material found in the print version of Tales from Brookgreen), plus selections from Lynn Michelsohn’s other books. We hope you enjoy them.
Bonus Story: Cousin Allard’s Raft
The long glass display case in the Museum at Brookgreen Gardens in South Carolina, across the highway from Huntington Beach, held more than just postcards for sale. There, Miss Genevieve and Cousin Corrie, Hostesses at Brookgreen Gardens in the 1950s, also displayed mementoes and artifacts related to the history of Brookgreen and the Lowcountry.
One photograph of an older man with long white hair and a bushy white beard drew frequent attention from visitors. They regularly identified him as Walt Whitman and inquired about his connection to Brookgreen Gardens.
Miss Genevieve patiently explained that this was not the famous poet but was Brookgreen’s longtime resident and much beloved physician, “Dr. Wardie” Flagg. When visitors were interested, Miss Genevieve encouraged Cousin Corrie to tell his sad story and the history of what local people called The Flagg Flood, the tragic 1893 hurricane at Huntington Beach (then called Magnolia Beach) and the Flagg family.
Here is a portion of that story as Cousin Corrie, Hostess at the popular South Carolina tourist attraction, explained it to visitors …
The morning of Friday, the thirteenth of October, 1893 dawned gray and rainy on our South Carolina coast. Wind howled. Waves crashed along the shore. A storm was surely coming, but how strong would it be? A mild gale? A hurricane? No one knew in those days before radio, television, or hurricane-tracking airplanes.
Dr. Allard Belin Flagg of the Hermitage awoke early to the gray and stormy day. Now a widower, he and his unmarried daughter Alice lived together in his home on the mainland seashore at Murrells Inlet. (Dr. Allard had named his daughter “Alice” for his long deceased sister. I’m sure you already know the story of that earlier Alice of the Hermitage.)
Most mornings, Dr. Allard and Miss Alice could look out from the Hermitage across a mile of marsh and salt water creeks to see three Flagg family beach houses dotting the sandy barrier island of Magnolia Beach, just like today we can see houses on Garden City Beach across the marsh from Murrells Inlet. But this October morning, driving hurricane rains obscured the view of Magnolia Beach. Dr. Allard and Miss Alice added a prayer that the storm would pass quickly to their morning devotions, then sat down to the hot breakfast their two family servants had prepared.
Many Allard relatives summered in those houses on Magnolia Beach. One was Dr. Allard’s unmarried son, Allard Belin Flagg III, whom the others called Cousin Allard. Seemingly the only male Flagg NOT to become a physician, Cousin Allard had built his house a short walk north along the strand toward the inlet mouth from the two other Flagg houses. One of these other houses belonged to Dr. Allard’s brother (and Dr. Wardie’s father), Dr. Arthur Belin Flagg. The other belonged to another of Dr. Arthur’s sons, young Dr. Arthur Belin Flagg, Jr. They, their families, and their servants usually spent the summer there on the beach where cooling sea breezes made the Southern heat more bearable and kept away malaria-bearing mosquitoes.
That stormy morning, the households of both of the Dr. Arthurs also sat down to hot breakfasts in their respective homes on Magnolia Beach. Increasing wind and rain had repeatedly disturbed the sleep of the adults throughout the night, but all tried to hide their anxiety from the children.
At that same time, Cousin Allard was eating his own breakfast at his house up the beach. He and his manservant were making their morning meal from last night’s cold cornbread however, because he had sent his cook back to the mainland with another servant the evening before when they had become concerned about the threatening weather.
Young Cousin Allard had chosen to remain at the beach. He always enjoyed watching winds drive waves along the shore and looked forward to the adventure of riding out a storm at the beach. The equally adventurous young servant chose to remain with him.
Shortly after breakfast, the storm’s fury suddenly increased. Vicious wind and rain lashed windows as the sky grew darker. The crashing ocean surged up the strand, ever closer to the beach houses. Rising waters began flooding backyards from the creek side, cutting off any chance of escape to the mainland.
As the two men stood watching from Cousin Allard’s front porch, each house became an island in a sea of churning waves.
Although Cousin Allard’s beach house was smaller than the other Flagg houses, like them, it had several outbuildings. The shed where Allard stabled
his horse and a separate kitchen that kept the heat and threat of fire away from the main house stood in the back yard. As the water continued to rise, Cousin Allard and his servant fought their way through the stinging, drenching rain to lead his horse out of the rapidly flooding shed. They turned him loose, knowing that the horse had a better chance of survival in the open rather than trapped inside the building.
Having completed this task, the two men struggled back to the house through swirling, waist-deep water. Rain continued to pelt them unmercifully. At last, they reached the back door and made their way inside, shutting out the storm’s fury.
They felt secure inside the sturdy wooden building, even as the wind howled and waves grew higher outside. Then water climbed the front porch steps. When breaking waves began pounding against the front of the house, Allard opened the front door to relieve pressure on the structure. Waves now raced through the house, front to back, covering wide pine floorboards with inches, then feet, of seawater.
Cousin Allard and his servant made their way up to the second floor ahead of the rising ocean. But larger and larger waves battered the wooden structure until it began to give way under the water’s crushing weight. Front walls collapsed inward with a mighty screech as the roof sagged slowly on top of them. Luckily, this gave the two men time to escape through back windows … escape, but into raging waters.
Tumbling in the churning inferno, choking on mouthfuls of salty water, Cousin Allard and his servant found themselves grabbing for slabs of siding in the cresting breakers. Fortunately, the roaring wind and waves pushed them rapidly into what looked like a raft, actually the floating roof of the backyard kitchen! A haven in the surrounding chaos. Both men scrambled aboard, only to be greeted by another bedraggled passenger: the kitchen’s yowling and spitting cat!
Although they could see only dimly through the driving rain and breaking waves, Allard and his servant sensed the storm pushing their makeshift raft toward the mainland. And what was that dark object moving toward them in the water? Cousin Allard’s horse appeared, swimming strongly through the waves! Allard called to the animal, which seemed to recognize his master and continued to follow behind the raft.
Frightening and exhausting hours followed but the two men, the cat, and the horse remained alive amid slashing wind and pounding waves.
Suddenly, bushes loomed out of the storm. No, those were treetops! Waves had carried them to shore. But now, these same waves battered the men and their raft against branches and trunks of live oaks and pines rising out of the flood. The two men and the cat continued to cling to the kitchen roof with every scrap of strength. The horse could not touch bottom and soon disappeared swimming farther inland.
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At last, the winds began to subside. Waters receded all along the coast. Out came the afternoon sun.
After the weather cleared at the Hermitage, Dr. Allard, Miss Alice, and the servants emerged from the house, thankful that the storm had caused them little damage there on the mainland. But when they gazed across the marsh, a chilling sight met their eyes. No houses stood on Magnolia Beach!
As the rest of the household stood weeping on the shore, Dr. Allard turned silently and disappeared into his study, always a stern and private man. One can only wonder about his horror and his fear for his relatives.
Miraculously, young Allard, his manservant, his cat, and his horse all survived the storm! The winds had even lodged their raft on the shore close to the Hermitage itself! The adventuresome pair’s unforgettable ride at least gave one Flagg household some reason to rejoice on that Friday the thirteenth, the day of The Flagg Flood.
An Interview with the Author
How did you come to write Tales from Brookgreen?
Although I have lived many places over the years (North and South Carolina, Virginia, Florida, Vermont, Maine, New York, Kentucky, Missouri, Oklahoma, Montana, New Mexico, and Italy; Whew! Quite a list!), my heart has always remained in the South Carolina Lowcountry, especially the area around Murrells Inlet just south of Myrtle Beach.
As I mention in the Introduction to Tales from Brookgreen, my Cousin Corrie often took me with her to work at Brookgreen Gardens when I was a child. She and Miss Genevieve, the two Brookgreen Hostesses, told the most wonderful tales about people who had lived on the four rice plantations that made up Brookgreen Gardens.
I wanted my children to hear the same stories that had delighted me, so I began writing down what I remembered of them.
How difficult was it to remember stories you heard so many years ago?
The more I wrote, the more I remembered.
I also began researching the history of coastal of South Carolina. This helped me make more sense of some of the stories by helping me understand the historical and social contexts of events. The History of Georgetown County, South Carolina, by George Rogers and Down by the Riverside by Charles Joyner (whose wife is a third cousin of mine) were among the most helpful books.
The Rogers book is more of a reference but the Joyner book is quite readable and most interesting. I recommend it to anyone who would like to know more about South Carolina plantation life before the Civil War.
Here and there, I also came across books containing some of the same stories Cousin Corrie and Miss Genevieve told that helped me fill in gaps. An older one of these, The Return of the Grey Man by Julian Stevenson Bolick, was the most useful. Although there are a number of newer books containing some of these stories, most recent versions are a bit different from the ones I remember.
Of course, that is one characteristic of folktales. They evolve with each telling.
Are there other books you recommend to those interested in Brookgreen Gardens and the Lowcountry?
Yes. I have included a list of them in this ebook (see Other Lowcountry Books). Most are paperback but I believe a few are available as ebooks. All are available from online booksellers and through local bookstores.
One special book is Genevieve Peterkin’s Heaven is a Beautiful Place. This wonderful memoir provides a marvelous portrait of Miss Genevieve, who was the author’s mother and a thoroughly amazing woman. It also provides more insight into Gullah culture during the first half of the Twentieth Century, as well as telling the author’s own moving story.
Two other interesting books contain historic photographs of Brookgreen Gardens with notes by Curator of Sculpture, Robin Salmon. They are Brookgreen Gardens and Sculpture of Brookgreen Gardens.
Some of the stories in Tales from Brookgreen involve ghosts. Have you ever had any ghostly experiences yourself?
Not really, although I have always hoped for them.
The closest I came took place a few years ago in All Saints Cemetery near Pawley’s Island, just south of Brookgreen Gardens. One afternoon, a friend and I took my then-teenaged son, Aaron, and two of his friends to the cemetery to visit Alice Flagg’s grave. She is the White Lady of the Hermitage who sometimes wanders the shore looking for her lost ring.
The afternoon was a little wet so we were the only ones in the cemetery. Only the faint whisper of raindrops broke the silence. We found the grave easily, even though the gravestone is not upright but lies flat in the ground. A wilted rose and some greenery lay in shallow accumulations of rainwater on its rough surface. Flowers and other objects are common on the grave, as visitors often leave mementos for Alice. Some report having seen Alice herself in the vicinity.
Aaron took photos (one of which appears on the cover of my ebook, Lowcountry Ghosts), then we wandered nearby for a few minutes looking at other gravestones.
Before leaving the cemetery, we returned once more to Alice’s grave. The rose and greenery remained as before, but now a small silver ring lay in the rainwater on the stone’s surface. None of us had noticed the ring earlier. It isn’t visible in Aaron’s photos.
Had water previously obscured the ring’s presence? We prefer to think otherwise …
Several of the stories in your book are Gullah folktales. What does that mean?
The Gullah culture and language developed among African-American slaves and their descendents on Lowcountry plantations. Over the years, elements of African practices mixed with those of the New World. The Gullah experience forms a unique part of American culture, and as such, I find it fascinating.
These Gullah folktales reflect African traditions as well as the demands of life during slavery and its aftermath. They often involve triumph of the underdog, a theme popular the world over.
What sparked your interest in Gullah culture?
My grandmother spoke Gullah. She learned it from family servants in her childhood home in the 1870s and 1880s on her family plantation near Myrtle Beach.
As the youngest of ten children, my grandmother became the special pet of the family cook, Flora Buck. Flora loved to make potato pone because this simple dessert was my grandmother’s favorite. I think Flora must have enjoyed it too.
Even after my grandmother was married, with children of her own and living in Conway, Flora would occasionally walk into town to bring her a pone. The two of them would sit and visit all day, “sampling” the pone until it was gone.
In our family, we still make potato pone for special occasions, using Flora’s recipe—sweet potatoes, brown sugar, eggs, milk, nutmeg, cinnamon, and lots of butter.
By the way, in the Lowcountry, “potatoes” meant sweet potatoes. My mother always referred to the other kind as “Irish potatoes.”
Has Brookgreen Gardens changed much since you were a child?
Oh, there have been lots of changes, most of them fairly superficial. Of course, it is much more of a tourist attraction now and feels less like my own personal sanctuary or playground.
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