Dawn, And History Turns A Page on the Pamlico by the late Eugene "Gene" Price

On this dreary, rainy day on Goose Creek Island, I thought I would share a story by the late Eugene "Gene" Price, honored journalist, editor of the Goldsboro News-Argus.  Gene found Goose Creek Island many years ago and had a "camp" at The Pondersosa, Lowland. He spent many weekends here and fell in love with our little Island. This story is from his book  Folks Around Here. Enjoy. 

photo from Snabbserver 

photo from PenBay Pilot

Dawn, And History Turns a Page on the Pamlico 

GOOSE CREEK ISLAND – The wind whipped out of the Northeast. The slate-gray waves of the Pamlico Sound chopped at the net floats with foaming white teeth.

This was a time to fish nets and get back ashore, for the wind was building and it was barely dawn.

Across the Pamlico, only the larger boats ventured out of the mouth of the Pungo to buck the seas.

Fishing a net from a 14-foot aluminum skiff, one pays only passing attention to the big boats, their deep-throated diesels pushing them doggedly down the waterway toward Miami and points beyond.

But one of the boats across that morning was different.

Her bow was high and she sliced through the waves with dignity. Even from two miles one could see she was mahogany and white – and regal.

“Old wealth. She looks like old wealth,”  I whispered to Clip Davis who was helping with the  net. And he watched with silent appreciation.

We dropped the nets, fired up the little outboard engine and headed out to intercept her for a closer look.  One just doesn’t see many like that, though thousands ply the waterway across the Pamlico each year.

"She’s pretty enough to the be the Sequoia,” I shouted to Clip above the engine noise as we bounced toward the rendezvous.

As we closed, the skipper of the big boat looked our way.

We waved, pointed to his fine boat and applauded – and then saluted. The skipper saluted in return.

She passed. And the name on her stern flashed above the bubbling wake: “Sequoia.”

The Sequoia! The President’s yacht!

I crossed her wake and grabbed for the camera and twisted the throttle on the outboard, trying to catch up to get a picture.

But we were a little boat and the seas, this far out, were heavy.

The Sequoia, her noble bow parting the seas move on out of range.

We waved again, but her captain was looking only ahead…to the red and green buoys that marched out of sight down the waterway toward Florida.

“That was the President’s yacht!” We said it almost together from our little boat.

Only it no longer was the President’s yacht – or the American people’s yacht.

It had been for many years – since Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Truman and General Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy and Mr. Nixon and Mr. Ford…

We looked with wonder at the fine mahogany afterdeck where the great leaders of more than half a century had relaxed and socialized and pondered the imponderables…

But this day, she no longer was the President’s yacht.

President Carter had sold the Sequoia to save money. She went on the block and was sold as a tourist attraction. That hadn’t worked out. And like a great – but old- fire horse, she had been sold again, to pull yet another ice wagon.

No!

Not the Sequoia!

A mile and half away now, she altered her heading slightly due south. Soon she would disappear into the narrow waterway that would take her past Hobucken and Oriental and Morehead City and points on down the coast.

But her noble bow was proud and she would be something apart from and above all she passed.

She was the Sequoia. A part of our great American heritage.

No one could buy that.

The Sequoia seemed to know it.

This Weekend's Community Spirit Success

If you didn't make it out to the Goose Creek Island Fall Festival and Halloween event this weekend, you certainly missed a treat. With the help of volunteers and a some creative geniuses, a group came together and produced a successful event for our Island. Proceeds from the event benefitted the Community Center, the Fire Department and for future events.

photo by Jordan Hopkins

Me and Joe were so humbled and inspired by the outpouring of community spirit when we arrived to support the event. Hot dogs, chili boats, popcorn, kids running around, games, sweets, friends and family fellowship and an overall sense of goodwill were evident in the atmosphere. By the way, Joe said they were the best hot dogs he's ever ate!

Many of us remarked about the past Haunted House and Halloween events - boy if the kids today could have been around 40 years ago! We also reminisced about the camaraderie and service of that special Island group called the Tidewater Ruritan Club and how those members supported so many community service projects in our community. But most importantly, the conversations turned to, "we need more of this on the Island."

Friends, the wheels are turning. In order for a community to survive we have to support its needs. Whether it is putting together a community event such as the Fall Festival or even doing a road-side cleanup, community fellowship, goodwill, and spirit is essential for a community's survival. Let's face it, our community leaders are not getting any younger and their fine example of community service exemplifies so much of our Island spirit. Us younger folks have to step up and keep the torch going.

50 years ago, the Tidewater Ruritan Club was formed with over 40 charter members from our Island. Their commitment to supporting our Island was phenomenal. They charted the course in providing for the needs of the community as a whole. They maintained and kept the Hobucken School available for a wide variety of events, promoted and fund-raised to build our Volunteer Fire Department, and were a driving force behind our Annual Island Homecoming Event. They were also stewards to benevolent causes on the Island as well as assisting whatever need that involved community. 

I'm putting it out there and will be willing to help, organize, or even promote - we need to re-establish the vision and mission of the former Ruritan Club in forming a civic organization. By coming together as a community voice, we can help support the Goose Creek Island Community Development Association in maintaining the Community Center. We can step forward and help the Volunteer Fire Department with fundraisers. We can come together and begin planning our 150th or Sesquicentennial Celebration in 2024. We've got many cemeteries that need volunteer clean-ups. We've also got a 120 year old church that needs a helping hand with a few maintenance projects. And we all know, come February we will need to clean-up our roadways after hunting season.

If you are interested in keeping this past Saturday nights community spirit alive, let's talk! 

Thank You! Thank You! Thank You! to those who made it happen Saturday night! It was wonderful and we look so forward to more in the future! 

PS - Save The Date! Santa and Mrs. Claus is coming to Goose Creek Island December 17th.

Easter on the Island

We're well past the official beginning of Spring, but for me, the true marker of the spring season is Easter. Easter has always been my favorite holiday and what better way to celebrate than to be on the Island. Nature wakes up from it's winter slumber, the fields and creeks come alive. I thought sharing this story by Gene Price would be 'fitting' for Easter. Happy Easter to everyone from me and Joe.

Reprinted from Folks Around Here, by Gene Price.

GOOSE CREEK ISLAND - John Steinbeck called it "the hour of the pearl."

It's that interlude between darkness and day "when time passes to examine itself."

At my camp on Goose Creek Island, a chorus of awakening birds provides background music for that time of soul-searching.

The birds begin their symphony before the lights come in most homes clustered in the village of Lowland near the confluence of Goose Creek and Pamlico River.

Thanks to an alarm clock with a propensity to go off an hour early, I crawled out of my sleeping bag earlier than usual on this Easter morning.

Four-thirty, I found, is a good time to stretch and scratch and have a cup of coffee while listening to the night sounds. And then to drive slowly around the still-sleeping community in my old pick-up, windows down so as not to miss the fading whip-poor-wills and the early-rising wrens.

My path took me by the Watson family cemetery and the Lowland Disciples of Christ Church. That had been the denomination of my boyhood in the Elizabeth City mill district. So, a forgivable pause for reflection as the truck idled by...

Obviously something was going to happen here this day. In the cemetery, some talented stagehands had erected a replica of the tomb where Jesus of Nazareth had been placed after the crucifixion. The stone had been rolled away.

To the northeast, across the road by the cemetery, a path of fronds led from an entranceway through what depicted a flowering Garden of Gethsemane. And in the distance, silhouetted against the early morning sky, three crosses.

As morning broke, young people came, dressed as those of that period. And townspeople made a pilgrimage through the garden and listened as the Rev. Bobby Waters told of the events of that time more than 2,000 years ago.

Youngsters silently acted out the drama - the trial and the sentencing and the washing of the hands.

As those who had come moved on toward the cemetery, their attention was called to the eastern horizon. Three of the community's young people now hung from the crosses.

Then there was the scene at the empty tomb and the message from the angels.

And from the garden of azaleas in the distance, accompanied by excited members of the cast, strolled a handsome young man, bearded and in a flowing white gown.

Those who had come burst into song, "He Lives!"

Sunrise services were held throughout the Christian world that Easter morning. But on this Island, during the "hour of the pearl," this little community produced a real gem. 

My Camp's Front Porch Toilet - by the late Eugene "Gene" Price

Eugene "Gene" Price, honored journalist, editor of the Goldsboro News-Argus,  former press secretary to US Rep. Herbert C. Bonner, member of the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, sadly passed away in January 2019. Gene found Goose Creek Island many years ago and had a "camp" at The Pondersosa, Lowland. He spent many weekends here and fell in love with our little Island, the river, the creeks, the skies, and the people that make our Island beautiful. Sadly, I was unable to interview him before his passing but we had corresponded before he became ill. His daughter Sue has passed on a few stories of his time on Goose Creek Island and she remarked how much he loved to go to "the camp." I recently purchased his book Folks Around Here. It is dotted with his stories and several are of his time at Goose Creek Island. Here is one that I am sure you will enjoy. 

Gene on the porch of his camp on Goose Creek Island

Photo courtesy of Sue Price Johnson

My Camp's Front Porch Toilet

GOOSE CREEK ISLAND - Despite all it's shortcomings, perhaps my camp here on the island should be in the Guinness Book of Records. Its toilet is on the front porch.

There's a reason for that of course. When I first bought the camp some 30 years ago it had a commode located in the cement block utility room which now houses a couple of outboard motors, two barrels of nets, an array of tools, assorted waterfowl decoys, leaky waders and equally leaky boots, cans of useless paint and an assortment of gummed up and dried paint brushes (also useless), and an antique Underwood typewriter, along with several mostly empty bottles of "spirits."

It was a perfectly good commode.

But it had a problem. It would flush - but it wouldn't swallow. 

I tried numerous approaches to the problem, such as pouring all sorts of guaranteed solutions into the bowl, letting them "set" for the appointed time before flushing. All with the same lack of results. The woods around the camp had become pockmarked with little squares of white (well, slightly streaked) paper as testimonials to my plumbing failures. 

In exasperation, I appealed to my good Goose Creek Island friend John Collins to find someone who could solve the problem. 

"Oh," assured John, "it won't be a problem, Vernell (Ballance) and I can fix it right up. We just got to raise the commode."

"Whatever it takes..." I insisted.

On my next trip to the Island, I made my mandatory stop at John's house in "downtown" Lowland. (Not to stop and have a drink with John was to be subjected to a subsequent lecture on my having treated him "mighty shabby."

"Cap'n Gene!" John greeted me, "did you bring your Kodak!" (To John, all cameras were Kodaks.)

I assured John I always brought my Kodak. And he admonished that we just had to get "a picture of the toilet."

Encouraging news indeed! Until we arrived at the camp.

Pursuing their diagnosis of the problem, John and Vernell had removed the commode, poured an eight-inch high square concrete base and reinstalled the stool. Then dutifully flushed it. Disappointingly, and characteristically, the commode flushed - but failed to "swallow."

Undeterred, John and Vernell raised it another eight inches - with the same results. And a third time...

When I entered the utility room, the commode was just the right height for me to walk up to it, rest my chin on its front and "throw up." I could sit on it, but would have to lean way forward to keep my back from hitting the rafters. And it still wouldn't "swallow."

John and I spent the next morning probing for the septic tank. And found it - partially under the front porch. And considerably uphill from the utility room where the commode reigned on its new throne.

That afternoon, in keeping with Plumbing 101, John and I removed the commode from its impressive roost and installed it on the front porch. Straight downward shot to the septic tank! And its been flushing and swallowing there ever since. 

We enclosed that corner of the porch, of course. And in deference of modesty of some visitors, we even hung a previously discarded shower curtain over the toilet door. 

Need Directions on Goose Creek Island?

The Canal

Picture this in your mind. 

Someone who has never been to Goose Creek Island is riding around the Island. Maybe they're looking for someone's house or out sight-seeing. 

They're lost because they have no cell phone signal to look at their GPS. 

Scene One: You're feeding the ducks at Pate Boatyard (pretend you are Lucille Sadler) and they stop by and ask, "I'm trying to get to the Community Center." 

As a true Goose Creek Islander, how would you steer them in the right direction?

Answer: "Well, the Community Center is over there where the old school used to be, across from the Funny Farm. Just go down this road a ways and turn left at Alcock's corner. Once you turn at Alcock's Corner, the community center is over on the left, right there where the old baseball field used to be. If you go too far, watch out for Nelvin, he's the Island police officer. He might wave you down and stop you. If you're lucky you may get by with a warning ticket."

Scene Two: You're hanging net in your yard (let's pretend it's Mitchie Ray and Scooter at Scooter's house) and a car pulls up, lost. They're looking for the place to buy some of those I & M Oysters. 

Answer: "Well, you're close. Just go back 'out the road' and make a left to go 'Round the Horn'. Go 'round the road' till you see Oyster Creek Road. Turn right, you will go around a couple of sharp turns. The last sharp turn is there at Brown's, but go on to the end. I & M Oysters is there at the landing. Watch out for the water, we've got a moderate North East breeze."

Our sense of direction is a real Island developed language. Those that are unknowing to our ways of Island directions really can't understand if they're coming or going. Here is some Island navigational words and locations that true Islanders understand.

Out The Road - direction depends on if you are coming or going

Down the Road - again, direction depends on if you are coming or going

'Round the Road - you're going around the loop 

Around the Loop - you're going 'Round the Road

"Round the Horn - you're going around the loop road depending on location 

Up The Prong - one always goes Up the Prong, never Down the Prong

At The Landing - well, that depends, whose Landing you're trying to get to? 

Going to the Store - again, that depended on whose store you where going to (none exist now)

The Canal - that's an easy one, the small section of canal that was dug for the Intracoastal Waterway. The Coast Guard Station is located on 'The Canal'. 

Springs Creek - that little section of homes between Hobucken and Lowland

Potter Ditch - the main lead ditch you cross as you come into Lowland.

The Marshes - former settlement in the area in the marshes beyond where the pavement runs out in Hobucken

Drum Creek - just down past where the pavement runs out in Hobucken

Out to Middle Bay - the end of the dirt road once you pass the Marshes and Drum Creek

Jimmy's Hole - an old boat basin at the end of Doll's Creek Rd. 

Foot The Road - the end of the road in Lowland, overlooking Goose Creek. 

Alcock's Corner - at the intersection of Hobucken Rd. and Schoolhouse Rd. 

Clark's Corner - at the intersection of Lowland Rd. and Middle Prong Rd., where you turn to go Up the Prong. 

There's really no way you can get lost on Goose Creek Island. It's pretty much one way in and one way out. 

Maybe I need to compile a Goose Creek Island Map showing those place names and features for newcomers and visitors. Some once prominent places have since disappeared but the names are still very much used, such as the school house, Miss Lela's, or the Honky Tonk. Nevertheless, the local names for many geographical areas on the Island persist in our language, especially among us native born Islanders. 

I am so thankful that we still use these names and phrases today. Now, how many of you know where Sally's or Browns is at?

An Island Hug for this New Year

Photo By Greg Ballance. Sunset December 30, 2019 Goose Creek Island

The Island can be nosy. Everyone knows everything about you.

The Island can be opinionated. There is no shortage of people, all generations, who feel they know "best" and their opinion should be followed.

The Island can be judgmental. Makes one wonder if you laughed to loud at an inappropriate joke or provided that opinion, will you be snubbed?

The Island holds grudges from last month, last year, and the last decade like it happened yesterday.

Quite frankly, the Island can be stifling, like a strong hug that is at first comforting but too tight and lasts too long. Hugs are tricky like that.

Grudges, snubs and arguments are part of Island life. They do get tossed aside when something happens to an Islander. Potluck dinner is put together overnight when someone on the Island is sick. Baby and bridal showers are attended by almost everyone. Grass mysteriously gets mowed for an older resident who has left the Island for the day. We are gifted at comforting and loving our people.

Don't get me wrong, the Island does have its cliques, but none no stronger than being an Islander. Being an Islander means there is always someone around to vent to, to talk to, to offer a kind word, a prayer, to share a cup of coffee, or a beer. Someone to laugh with, to cry with or to lean on.

Yes, that stifling hug that is too tight and too long is our Island's greatest strength. But to move forward, sometimes that all-encompassing, giant hug needs to relax so we don't get stuck in our tracks. That is what is so special about being here.

As we move into a new year and new decade, I hope the Island continues to be forever our strong and harmonious home. We have so much to appreciate from our past. And our present continues to provide the care of keeping our Island strong. But I look forward to our Island future and the continuance of our community strengths through innovations and progress. So in 2020, lets honor our past by living in the present to plan for our Island future.

Happy New Year
Tina

The Old Cemetery at Peyton's Point

Last August, just before Hurricane Florence, I had the pleasure of spending the day with my cousin Richard Lewis of Elizabeth City.  Richard had come "home" for a week to spend time at his home, the former Jonah and Ollie Lewis homeplace, to do some fishing and visit with friends and family.

One day while Richard was home, me and Joe launched the pontoon boat at Oyster Creek and Richard hopped aboard for a cruise around the Island.  The day was absolutely beautiful.  We headed out Oyster Creek and then turned into the River.  We stayed close to shore as we traveled towards Goose Creek.  We marveled at how much River Shore had changed. The ever present Indian Island in the distance was no longer that grand island of yesteryear, but still held the same presence of mystery in its decline.

A couple of sailboats were making their way across Pamlico River and soon fell in behind us as we entered Goose Creek.  We passed Fulford's Point, talking about the days of swimming there and how many souls were baptized in those shallow waters.  We soon made our way to Dixon Creek and "foot the road".

As we got closer to Peyton's Point and entering Dixon's Creek, we began searching for the old cemetery located on Peyton's Point.  Eventually, I was able to spot a headstone along the shore. We eased the boat up to the shore and tied up to a tree.  Me and Richard climbed out and within a few steps we found the cemetery I had always heard about, but had not ever visited.

Laying at rest among the pines and scrub oaks are Edward and Sarah Clark, along with Martha Buck, Henry and Thomas Clark. Although the cemetery is starting to decline from the elements of erosion, nearby flowers still bloomed that had been planted many years ago.

I am glad we took the time to visit Peyton’s Point and to witness the final resting place of these folks on this little secluded peninsula over looking Goose

 

Why We Come Home

An old Island home place springs back to life when it's decedents come home.

An old Island church bell rings it's invitation on a beautiful Sunday morning.

A evening ride around the Island is a journey of remembrance.

 

There is comfort here in the ritual of remembering.  This is why we come home.

 

 

Goose Creek. Photo by Nathan Lewis.

 
Tomorrow we will all come together. Homemade pies, secret recipe casseroles, a traditional pot of collards, maybe some fried shrimp will be shared.  But most importantly it will be the hugs and smiles of those who come together.

What began in 1974 as a centennial celebration earmarking the 100 years Goose Creek Island became part of Pamlico County, homecoming quickly grew into an annual event.  For 44 years, we've still continued to uphold our history of this special place.  Family ties, abundant recollections and stories of our Island beauty fills and nurtures our Island spirits. It is these intersections of memory and of the present that is embodied within our Island soul.

There will be people we have not seen in a while.  And there will be people we cannot see.  By our gathering, their spirits will fill those voids.  There's no doubt much has changed on the Island.  A once bustling and prime location of North Carolina's seafood industry, every person had some salt instilled in their blood from toiling in the sea. And the many farmers who plowed the rich, black earth of the Island soil, gave significance to the place where the land and sky meets the water.

As hurricanes and opportunities abroad have dwindled our numbers, many still remain.  The great news is many are coming back.  This summer alone has brought back three Island natives and descendants in securing their place on the Island.  I hope to see many more "come home".  It's here were they can find peace among their people.

As the web of descendants grow more complex each year, the stark beauty of the Island heritage continues to pull us home.  There's a deep connection we have for the Island.  When one drives over the bridge, isn't it "the prettiest sight ever been?"

So tomorrow, let's continue our lifelong connection to Goose Creek Island.  Let's prove to the "naysayers" that this far off, out of the way village will continue to keep the Island's past - the stories, people, and traditions - alive.  This is why we come home.

Did You Know?

Did you know that the ferry Governor Scott is sitting on the bottom at the tip of Brandt Island Shoals? 

LCT 590 (Landing Craft Tank 590) was built in 1943 by Pidgeon-Thomas Iron Co. in Memphis, Tennessee for the Department of Defense.  The vessel was built to carry Sherman tanks as landing craft.  On June 6th 1944, LCT 590 participated in beach operations at Omaha Beach, Normandy, France.  As one can imagine on that heroic date, the LCT 590 sustained heavy damage and casualties as it delivered its tanks and troops. The vessel's Ensign was able to save the LCT 590 by securing repairs offshore of Normandy with the USS Arikara.   At some point after the invasion, the Ensign of LCT 590 was awarded the Silver Star and the Navy Cross for his actions in saving the vessel that fateful day.

In 1950, the State of North Carolina purchased LCT 590 from a government surplus sale. Registered in Elizabeth City, LCT 590 was renamed as Ferry Governor Scott, named after William Kerr Scott, Governor of North Carolina (1949-1953) at the time.  It was put into service as a car and equipment ferry that ran from Manteo to Manns Harbor until 1962.

By the end of 1962, the Governor Scott had been removed from ferry service and was towed to the tip of Brandt Island Shoals and released.  It is there that the Governor Scott sank and met its final fate. Claimed by the rough waters of Pamlico Sound and the aerial target practice from local military, a piece of D-Day and NC Ferry Service history is just laying off of Goose Creek Island.

LCT 590 before conversion to Ferry Governor Scott

Old Ferry Dock in Manns Harbor

Graham Potter - Just A Farmer

History books are filled with stories of great men and women.  But to learn about the average person, one has to dig around or listen to the stories that has been passed down from generation to generation. 

One story of an average person on Goose Creek Island is about my great-great grandfather Graham Potter who died 106 years ago on June 19, 1912. 

I thought it would be good to document his story, as the descendants of Graham Potter gathered together two weeks ago to celebrate family.  And also the weather we have been having was very much like the weather over 100 years ago.

On June 19, 1912, Graham Potter and his family were working on the family farm, located at the end of Middle Prong Rd.  The weather was much like the days we have been having recently.  The weather was hot, humid and with the normal late afternoon thunderstorms building up to the west of the Island, and roaring down the Pamlico River, before exiting into Pamlico Sound.

Graham, along with his wife Ella Dean and the children were in the fields working.  A thunderstorm was building up to the west of Lowland.  Sensing the need to protect his family from harms way, Graham told everyone to "go on to the house".  Everyone did as they were told and headed to the house.  Graham stayed behind, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of work before the storm set in. 

The thunderstorm roared upon Lowland with heavy rain, thunder and lightening. Graham had not made it back to the house in time.  Within minutes, a hard clap of thunder roared across the Potter field and Graham, with hoe in hand, had been struck by lightening. 

When the weather cleared, Ella Dean and children went out into the field to find Graham, only to find him dead.  Graham Potter had been killed by lightening at the age of 60 years.  He was laid to rest within the Potter Family farm in the McGowen Cemetery.

But Graham's story does not end with his tragic death.  Through the stories and research, I found many things that were intriguing about my great-great grandfather. 

Born in Beaufort County, February 27, 1852 to Samuel Potter and Mary Sawyer, Graham was born an illegitimate child carrying the last name Sawyer.  At some point after Graham was born, Samuel learned his son was not being cared for properly.  Samuel went by boat, "over the river" and brought Graham home to the Potter Homestead on Middle Prong Rd. Lowland. 

Upon arrival at the Potter Homestead, Graham was cared for by his father and with help of a black slave woman.  During Graham's younger years, he went by the name Graham Sawyer.  He is recorded as Graham Sawyer in the 1860 census.  In January 1862, the siblings of Graham's father Samuel conveyed to them a tract of land at the end of Middle Prong Rd. 

This day and time, it sounds very unusual for a child of the age of 10 to be listed in a deed.  But one must understand, in 1862, illegitimate children were not afforded the same right to inherit property from a father unless there was a special provision.  It is my belief that Graham's uncle's and aunt's cared for their brother Samuel and his son, as in the deed it states " for and in consideration of the natural love and affection which we bear to our dearest brother Samuel Potter".   Regardless of the taboo's of secrecy and shame that shadow the illegitimacy of Graham's birth, family is family and with the stroke of signatures, the Potter family had embraced Graham as a Potter.

By 1870, Graham Sawyer's name was changed to Graham Potter.  With my research, I believe Samuel Potter swore an acknowledgement of paternity or an oral admission, which allowed Graham to legally change his name to Potter.  With this validity, Graham was now entitled to the same rights and protections of legitimacy. 

Photo of Graham Potter, circa 1878.

Through the years, Graham continued farming beside his father on Middle Prong Rd.  In 1878, Graham married Angeline Voliva. Angeline bore a son, Samuel Graham Potter in 1879 but she succumbed to complications of childbirth.  Graham then married Jane Potter, with whom they bore Nancy and Warden.  Jane passed away and Graham married Ella Dean Bridgeman.  With Ella Dean, their children were Thurman, Mary Jane, Tildon, Charlie Warren, Joshua, Alfred, Gentry and Preston Gold.

When Graham died that hot day in June, he left 5 children under the age of 18.  His son Thurman assisted his mother in settling the estate.  When going through the estate papers, I found it interesting that over he had over $6500.00 in "cash found upon his premises" and an $8000.00 insurance bond, that was paid to the heirs.   Today, those amounts are small but in 1912, that was a considerable sum of money. 

Looking into the past, Graham's father and family saw fit that his well-being be delivered a right and responsible upbringing, despite his circumstances and those taboos of secrecy. Those values set the tone for the family foundation and those of acceptance. Those same values we all should embrace today.

The Mystery of a Picture

For as long as I can remember, there was this picture of a lady...a mysterious lady, that always intrigued me and Heather.  It was a haunting image of a lady from years past.  This picture hung on the wall in the back bedroom of my grandparents house in Lowland.  When we packed up Granny and moved her up to Alliance 15 years ago, the picture came also.  We inquired about who the lady was in the picture.  It was Ada Craig.  Granddaddy Clifford Lewis first wife.

Who was this lady?  What was her story?  Of course this led me and Heather to do a bit of research.

Ada Craig was born in Wilmington, New Hanover County in 1888.  Her parents were Simon and Maranda Craig.  She married my great granddaddy Clifford on December 19, 1913 in Wilmington NC.  I do not know the story how they met as I can only speculate by going through the research.  Apparently, Granddaddy Clifford was in Wilmington in 1913, as well as his sister Fannie Lewis Hodges and her husband Thomas Hodges.

At some point between that Christmas of 1913 and late 1915, Granddaddy came back to Goose Creek Island with his bride Ada.  For Ada, I can imagine life on Goose Creek Island was far different than the hustle and bustle of the port city of Wilmington.  Prior to her marriage to Granddaddy, Ada was living with her older brother William Freeman Craig and his family, as their parents were deceased.  William Freeman Craig was a police officer in Wilmington and died in the line of duty in September 1918.

On Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1915 in Lowland, Ada gave birth to a daughter, Dorcas Elizabeth Lewis.  Ada battled many complications from childbirth and died a couple of weeks later on December 15th.  My Granddaddy Clifford was left a widower with a newborn baby to care for.

Because the folks on Goose Creek Island always take care of each other, I am sure Granddaddy Clifford's family and other folks in the community offered much support and care.  One can only imagine the need for this young man to try and care for his infant baby girl.  Sadly, within a month, on January 19, 1916, baby Dorcas had died as well.  She was laid to rest along side her mother in the McGowan Cemetery, Lowland.

With today's technology and the vast amounts of information that can be found, we were able to learn a few small pieces of the Ada Craig mystery.  However, with learning tidbits of information here and there, it also opens up other questions.  Questions that we will probably never get answers to.  Why was Granddaddy in Wilmington?  Was he working on a ship?  How did he meet this woman?  I wonder what her thoughts were of arriving on Goose Creek Island? Did they live at the Lewis homestead beside the Potter ditch?

Several years later, Granddaddy Clifford married Melissa Howerin Rice, my great grandmother and they raised a family together.

So today, Heather is the keeper of the haunting Ada Craig picture and I am the keeper of Ada Craig's rocking chair.  It was the only two possessions known to have belonged to her.  The image of the woman dressed in black will always intrigue us.  Hopefully one day, we will be able to obtain more information.  But until then, she will always be shrouded in mystery.

It's Game Day for Pamlico

It's game day Goose Creek Islanders!  We are cheering on the Pamlico Hurricanes Boys and Girls in the 1-A Championship today at Noon and 2:00pm.  Click the link below to read more about this special day.  Good luck to Madison Sadler and Coach Earl Sadler Jr. 

http://www.newbernsj.com/sports/20180309/sadler-saturday-in-raleigh

Tourney Title Led By Island Pillar

Last night was a regular ole' Friday night for most of us from Goose Creek Island.  But not for the Pamlico County Hurricanes High School basketball team and their coach, Earl Sadler Jr..  Last night was the conclusion of conference basketball and the Pamlico Boys (and girls) was crowned conference champions.  It is the first time since 1984 Pamlico swept the conference regular season and tournament titles.  Being crowned doesn't stop there.  Now it is on to district, regional and ultimately state championships (again). 

Thirty years ago this year, me and Earl Jr., along with Doug, Audrey, Lisa, Kathy, Tammy, A.J. and Lil' Henry graduated from Pamlico County High School.  It was 1988.  Amongst the basketball team in 1988 was Earl Jr. and Henry.  Henry was technically not living on Goose Creek Island, but he spent every Sunday in church here with his granddaddy Roscoe and was here more than he was in Bayboro, so I consider him an Islander with a free pass.

1988 Pamlico County Hurricanes Basketball Team.  From the 1988 Pamlicoan.

I can still see Earl Jr., Henry, Charlie, and others playing basketball down at the "tennis courts" at the old Lowland Community Center.  I even think there were some players who would drive in on Saturdays to play.  The tennis courts never really served a purpose on the Island but it became a great basketball court.  With some spray paint and putting up some basketball goals, that tennis court finally became a useful appropriation of county money at the time.

In the thirty years since graduation, our very own Pamlico County Hurricanes basketball team is lead by Earl Jr., a pillar in our community.  I don't know how many years Earl has been coaching, but I can tell you - his boys love him.  He ranks up there with other Pamlico greats such as Hubert Monk Sr. and Garry Cooper.  Must be something in the water here, because Goose Creek Islanders have always loved their basketball and baseball.

According to the news after Fridays' conference win, Coach Sadler told his guys "no matter the result, I want us to show people how to win the right way or lose the right way."  Sounds a whole lot like a Goose Creek Islander to me. 

Congratulations Hurricanes!

Get It Right

There is just some things in this world that "erk" me.

#1.  It is called Chocolate SOP - not Chocolate Gravy.   There is nothing more festive, with a wee bit of naughtiness, than having piping hot cheese biscuits with chocolate sop on a cold winter morning.

And lastly....

#2.  It is Lowland.  As in Low Land.  It is not Lowlands.  Drop that "S".  Who in the world started putting the "S" at the end of Lowland?  Gees!

Arnold Sadler and the Cash Corner Net Shop

In my recent research in the Dare County Library Historical Archives, I found the below article published on July 2, 1981 in The Coastland Times.  It is an interview with Arnold Sadler at the Cash Corner Net Shop in Hobucken.  

The Coastland Times

July 2, 1981

Foundations

Wardens Grove FWB Church. Photo by O.B. Howerin.

Last Friday, I went home.  No matter where I am in the world, there is only one home, Goose Creek Island.  I went home to pay my respects to my Granddaddy's brother, Uncle Roscoe Rice.  I went to my home church, Warden's Grove Free Will Baptist Church.

When me and Heather joined Mom and walked up those steps to enter into the vestibule, so many memories began flooding in.  Mom said, "Where are we sitting?"  Of course, me and Heather said we are sitting where we always have, second pew from the back on the right.  This is where we sat so many Sunday's with Granddaddy Mike.  I turned around and could visualize Mr. Carol Ross sitting behind us.  That was his regular seat too.  Not seeing Mr. Carol Ross, I saw Chad Ross.  Another, who always sat with his Granddaddy when he came to the Island.

As I sat in that pew and everything about the sanctuary brought back so many memories.  A glance over to the front left pews, my memory brought back Grandmama Melissa, Uncle Roscoe, Mr. Virgil Lupton, and Ms. Josephine Smith sitting over in what I would call "amen corner".  I looked up to the ceiling.  The same tall, vaulted ceiling that was there in my youth.  The choir loft brought back memories of hearing those many voices "who sang the wondrous love of Jesus".  Mr George Lupton singing in his voice of bass and Miss Lillie Watson and Miss Gladys Midgette singing alto.

The original pine pews are gone.  The floors are now completely carpeted. But the pine flooring underneath still provide the usual creaks and groans when walked across.  I looked at the attendance board beside the choir loft.  Only 25 attended that past Sunday.  Would have been 27, but the Lord was preparing Uncle Roscoe to leave his temporary home and Myrna was by his side.

When I saw "little Henry" and Earl Jr., with all three of us in the same room together again, I thought of all of the Christmas programs we had participated.  I could see the three of us standing in front during Sunday School, singing the children's songs - Jesus Loves Me, This Little Light of Mine, and Zacheus, being lead by Earl Jr.'s mom, Patsy Sadler.

When cousin Nina C made her entrance, the memory of sitting at the little table in her Sunday School class flooded back.  This is where we learned the miracles of the Bible.  Her stories of Jonah and the Whale, Noah's Ark, Moses, and so many more. What a loving instructor we had and is still just as loving today.

As a child growing up, this church is the basis for every bit of my christian education and upbringing.  The foundation of all my formative years were in this church and of the folks who taught me so many things.  The sermons of doctrine, sin and iniquities were mingled with the adventuresome stories of David and Goliath, Jesus feeding the multitudes, and the Tower of Babel.   When you entered its doors, this was the most wondrous place of belonging.  Everyone was accepted here.

Built around 1900, it was originally a Methodist Church and called Bernard's Chapel.  Bernard Carawan, Uncle Roscoe's Great Grandfather helped establish the church and over the generations, the church was remodeled, updated and eventually became the church it is today, Warden's Grove.

Standing in the sanctuary that day, the memories of all the spirits of so many individuals of my past surrounded me.  Within those walls lives a piece of my past.  I will always be forever grateful for my home church and to all of those people who exemplified christian service in their everyday lives, including Uncle Roscoe.  Wardens Grove Free Will Baptist Church will always be a rock of my foundation.

In Honor of my Great Grandmother, Melissa Howerin Rice Lewis

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An Island of Isolation?

             

           Islands have played a part in fictional stories for years.  The Swiss Family Robinson, Gulliver’s Travels, Lord of the Flies, and the television series Gilligan’s Island were all based on an Island location.  When a writer uses an island as a setting for a story, it provides a backdrop of adventure, isolation, and romance.

            Think about it. When you think of an Island, what comes to mind?  Do you think of tropical, lush landscapes, palm trees, white sandy beaches?  Yeah, I visualize that too. Now think of our coastal island of Goose Creek Island.  I see marsh, wildlife, fishermen, boats and farmers. 

            For those of us from Goose Creek Island, how many times have we heard that we live "isolated from the world". That we are unable to quickly access the convenient comforts in Bayboro and Aurora.  Although those conveniences are a short distance away, isolation can be a good thing.  Everyone here knows each other.  When tragedy strikes, everyone finds a way to help.  When we lose a resident, each one of us feels a connection to the deceased. 

            I think about our ancestors who first settled Goose Creek Island in the 1700’s.  The Island was a testing ground for a new way of life.  They had to travel by boat up the rivers or across the sound to access goods and services.  There was no such thing as the emergency room or dentist office.  They learned to “make do” with the knowledge they were given, how to live off the land and with what they had been given.  In all my research on Goose Creek Island, I have not learned of one family who “starved to death” by living here.

            Our ancestors and those of us today have utilized our surroundings on the Island to make a life of living here.  The rich, black soil has produced many an abundant garden.  The surrounding waters have given us the luxury of a shrimp dinner or a mess of oysters.  Not many folks can say they have that luxury. 

           Even in our materialized world today, I bet there are many Island women who still know how to sew a dress from a Simplicity pattern. We have learned to adapt to the weather and the cycles of drought and rainy seasons. We have learned to be sustainable with the resources we have been given and acquired. We have also learned to do “without”.

            Even though Goose Creek Island isn’t that tropical paradise so many people characterize in an Island, it does offer many enchanting spots – the docks, the creeks, the marsh, the forests.  If one opened their mind and heart, inspiration can be drawn from the abundant nature found here and the many sunrises and sunsets along the shores.

            So all you ‘naysayers’ out there who say they wouldn’t live on Goose Creek Island or to those who can’t grasp the quality of life we experienced growing up in such a wonderful place, I say you have to experience it to appreciate it.   The benefits of being here far outweigh what you think you might be missing.

The First Day of Spring and Vietnam

Top Photo by B.J. Meece and Bottom Photo Jim Reece

Today is the first day of Spring.  I've been doing a bit of research today and the cool temperatures and the drizzling rain brought to mind a story from the Island.  It's a story of one of our own.

Corporal Elbert Andrew Ballance, the son of Dapthney Ballance Walker and Norwood Walker of Lowland, was in Southeast Asia in the midst of the Vietnam Conflict.  Elbert was 18 years old and was serving in the U.S. Army, HHB, 2nd Battalion, 320th Field Artillery Regiment, 101st Airborne.

In the Thua Thein Province in South Vietnam, Elbert was killed in action by "friendly fire" at landing zone Birmingham on March 16, 1968.  Elbert was not alone. Five other comrades perished with him in that fatal accident that day.

I have spent many days sitting on my Granddaddy Joshua Potter's porch and I have heard several family members mention that sad day when Elbert was brought home and laid to rest.  Granddaddy Joshua's farm is just across the road from Dapthney Ballance Walker and from the Ballance-Leary Cemetery.

I have heard through their stories that it was a cold day much like today and the first of Spring.  The soldiers who accompanied Cpl. Ballance home to lay him to rest had just switched from their cold weather "winter" uniforms to their "spring" uniforms.  The soldiers stood in the cold temperatures in thin clothing to honor a fallen comrade. Standing in Granddaddy Joshua's field, they delivered a 21 gun salute and the haunting trumpet sound of Taps.   I have heard that no matter how cold those fellows were, they never waivered in delivering the final salute to one of their own.

If you ever visit Washington D.C. or have the chance to visit the traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall , his name is among the other 58,300 men and women who died serving their country.  You will find Cpl. Elbert Andrew Ballance's name on Panel 44E, Line 065.  Rest in peace fellow Islander.  Your service to our country will never be forgotten.

The Unpleasantness of Fishing

     Throughout the generations of Goose Creek Islanders, commercial fishermen have plied the creeks, rivers, sounds and ocean.  The saltiness in the fishermen expressed the good they saw in their honorable professions of being fishers of men.  In such harsh elements of their work, they witnessed the quietness of sunrises, the beauty of sunsets, porpoises diving in rhythm to the movement of the bow and the mysterious creations that lurked in its depths.
     But in the business of commercial fishing, not all things are pleasant.  With it come the dangers of drastic changes in weather, equipment failures and the unspeakable concern of sinking and possible death.  Sometimes the job of fisherman took on the job of search and rescue and recovery.
     In my search through the Dare County Library Archives for The Coastland Times newspaper, I came across this article in March 1973.  Captain Robbie Mercer had the unpleasant surprise of a dead body in the net of his trawler off the coast of North Carolina.

From The Coastland Times, March 22, 1973

Captain George Flowers Reaches Shore Safely

                       Captain George Flowers, wife Elva with children Larry, Julius and John (J.F.) October 1943  Photo Courtesy Lisa Flowers Santimaw

In conclusion to last weeks post about finding numerous articles within the Dare County Library Archives for The Coastland Times newspaper, I found this article about Captain George Flowers of Hobucken, his two sons Julius and Larry, and A.J. Dowdy.  Published September 28, 1956.

Two Disabled Boats Reach Shore Safely

     Two separate work boats were disabled in or near Pamlico Sound over the weekend, reached land safely after spending the night drifting about.

     The boat "Mystery" broke down after leaving Swan Quarter Friday at 1 p.m. en route to Belhaven to be put on the railways.  As a wide spread search was getting underway Monday, word was received that the boat had drifted to Bayview.  Aboard were Mr. and Mrs. Richard Gibbs and Mr. and Mrs. Edward Salter, all of Swan Quarter.

     The second boat was being carried from Belhaven to Hobucken Sunday by Captain George Flowers of Hobucken for a friend who had just purchased it.  Powerless after the engine quit Sunday afternoon, the boat drifted all night and then was poled into Swan Quarter Monday morning.  Aboard with Captain Flowers were his two sons, Julius and Larry Ray, and a third youth, A.J. Doudy, all of Hobucken. 

The Coastland Times, September 28, 1956