The Night Chris Davis Met the Lizard Man of Scape Ore Swamp

In the summer of 1988, people around Bishopville, South Carolina, began talking about something they called the Lizard Man: a towering, red-eyed, greenish creature said to stand about seven feet tall, move on two legs, and have three fingers on each hand. The name sounded like a joke until a seventeen-year-old local named Chris Davis claimed the thing had come out of the dark near Scape Ore Swamp, chased his car, and jumped onto the roof while he fled down Browntown Road.

The place was Browntown, a small Lee County community lying near Scape Ore Swamp, a dark, wooded lowland whose name already carried centuries of history, rumor, and local mystery. Even before the 1988 sightings, the swamp’s name seemed made for legend. 

Historical name studies trace it through older forms such as “Scapo,” “Scape O’er,” “Scape Whore,” and possibly “Scrape Ore.” One tradition connected the name to a Revolutionary-era story involving British soldiers, American guerillas, and women fleeing into the swamp. Another argued that “Scape Whore” came from a hunting anecdote involving a deer that “‘scaped whore the swamp.” Still another suggested “Scrape Ore” may have referred to bog iron once scraped from swampy ground. [1]

Chris Davis was seventeen years old, a local teenager who worked the night shift at McDonald’s. In the early morning hours of June 29, 1988, he was driving home alone in his brown 1976 Toyota Celica, with Filet-O-Fish sandwiches from work in the passenger seat and rock music playing on the radio. [2] A later newspaper profile reported that Davis remembered the radio blasting a Van Halen song it identified as “Is It Love?”, a memorable detail, though not a clean one, since Van Halen has no song by that exact title. [3] The report may have confused the title with Van Halen’s “When It’s Love,” a 1988 single from OU812; with Van Halen’s earlier “Why Can’t This Be Love,” another Van Halen title built around the word “love”; or with Whitesnake’s “Is This Love,” a major late-1980s rock hit with a nearly identical title. Several newspaper accounts put the encounter at about 2:00 a.m.; Lyle Blackburn’s Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster places it closer to 2:30 a.m. [4] Either way, Davis was alone on a rural road in the dead of night, heading home from work through the dark country around Scape Ore Swamp.

The weather and sky conditions matter because Davis’ account depends heavily on visibility. NOAA’s Bishopville station recorded June 29, 1988, as dry, with no precipitation reported. The day’s high was 85°F and the low was 58°F. The exact temperature at the time of the encounter is not available, but the record supports the impression of a dry, mild late-June night rather than a stormy one. [5]

The moon phase is equally important. Davis later emphasized that he was not standing in total darkness: “The moonlight was out. I turned around and saw a red-eyed devil.” [6] The moon-phase shows June 29, 1988, at or immediately after the full moon, which would have meant unusually strong natural light for a rural road, assuming clear skies. [7] That detail helps explain why Davis could check the flat tire without a flashlight, change it by moonlight, and then claim to see the approaching figure in the open field or roadside edge.

His route took him along Browntown Road, through the Scape Ore Swamp area in a thickly wooded rural stretch. As he drove, he heard a loud pop. The Celica began to jitter and pull with the unmistakable feel of a flat tire. He stopped on the side of the two-lane road, shut off the engine, and got out. He had no flashlight, but there was enough moonlight for him to see that the tire was flat. [8]

The location matters. Davis was not in town, not beneath streetlights, and not near a gas station or open store. The spot was near the intersection of a small dirt road leading into fields of cotton, high grass, and trees. There were no houses for at least half a mile, and his own home was still about seven miles away. [9] Walking home was not realistic. He had to change the tire where he was.

He opened the trunk and took out the spare tire, jack, and tire iron. At first, the situation was ordinary, even irritating: a tired teenage fast-food worker alone after a shift, trying to get home, with insects biting and food going cold in the car. [10] There was no monster yet. There was only a flat tire on a lonely country road beside a swamp.

Davis changed the tire as quickly as he could. Then, as he was finishing the job and putting the tire and tools back into the trunk, he saw movement.

“I had just put the tire in the trunk when I see this thing coming from those trees,” Davis told reporters. One newspaper account placed the figure about fifty yards away and said it was “kicking up dust as it ran.” Blackburn’s account gives the distance as about thirty yards and describes the figure as moving toward Davis from the trees, swinging its arms. [11] Another newspaper account placed the figure about twenty-five to thirty yards away, running across a field toward him, “all red eyes, glowing.” [12]

The distance varies across accounts, but the essential sequence remains the same: Davis had just finished changing the tire when something emerged from the dark edge of the road, trees, or field and came toward him.

What he described was not an animal merely crossing the road. Davis described it as large, upright, and humanoid. Contemporary reports quote him saying it was “green, wetlike, about 7-feet tall and had three fingers, red eyes, skin like a lizard, snakelike scales.” Other reports summarized the creature as seven feet tall, two-legged, red-eyed, and three-fingered. [13]

One of the most important details is the way it moved. Davis did not describe a deer leaping away, a dog trotting across the road, or a bear lumbering on all fours. He described something upright, coming at him with its arms swinging. In one later profile, Davis said the thing had “real long arms” and that when it ran, “his arms would swing.” [14] The image is of a tall, aggressive, human-shaped figure moving with speed and purpose from the tree line or field toward the stranded car.

Davis ran for the driver’s side of the Celica. By the time he got inside, the figure had closed much of the distance. In one detailed account, he said that while he was sitting in the car, he saw the creature “from the neck down” outside the driver’s-side window. [15] That detail is especially chilling. By his account, the thing was no longer a shape in the trees. It was at the car, close enough and tall enough that from the driver’s seat he could see its body but not its head.

Davis pulled off. After the Celica had moved only about two yards, the creature jumped onto the roof. He later described seeing hands through the windshield: rough-looking hands, black fingernails, and three fingers. [16]

Then came the sound. Davis said the creature grunted once. Not a scream, not a roar, but a deep grunt. In Blackburn’s account and in Davis’ later newspaper retelling, that sound came after the creature landed on the car, pushing Davis into full panic. [17]

He hit the gas.

The Celica lurched forward. The sudden acceleration apparently threw the creature off, but Davis said it got up and chased him. Newspaper reports said Davis believed it caught up with him when he reached about 40 mph; Blackburn gives a slightly lower estimate, saying Davis thought he was going at least 35 mph when it caught up and tried to leap onto the car again. [18] Later, during a polygraph-related summary, one of the questions put to Davis was whether he was really driving 35 mph when a creature jumped on his car, showing that the 35 mph detail became part of the formal review of his claim. [19]

As Davis fled, he looked into the rear-view mirror. He saw something behind him. Then he heard a crash on the roof. [20] This appears to be the second roof-contact moment in the story: first the leap as he pulled away, then the later impact after the creature allegedly caught up with him on the road.

Davis began swerving back and forth, trying to throw the attacker off the car. He never clearly saw it fall away, but eventually the clawing and banging stopped. At that point, he kept the accelerator down and drove home as fast as he could. [21] The uncertain radio detail gives this part of the story a strange, almost cinematic texture: a teenage worker, a brown Celica, fish sandwiches on the seat, moonlight over a swamp road, a red-eyed shape on the roof, and loud rock music filling the car while he swerved through the dark.

When Davis reached home, he did not calmly park and explain. He pulled into the driveway, blew the horn frantically, jumped out, and ran into the house, leaving the car running. His father, Tommy Davis, later told reporters that Chris was “huffing and puffing” and soon began crying. Chris told his family that what he had seen was seven feet tall, had red eyes, and had three fingers on each hand. [22]

Tommy Davis went outside to inspect the Celica. He reportedly found the driver-side mirror bent and twisted and scratches in the paint on the roof. Later accounts describe Davis posing for pictures beside the brown 1976 Toyota Celica, pointing to where the creature had allegedly scraped paint while clinging to the roof. Some newspaper versions minimized the damage as no more than a scratch, while the fuller family-inspection version describes mirror damage and roof scratches. [23]

The family did not report the incident immediately. The public story began only after another strange event: Tom and Mary Waye’s Ford LTD was found damaged near Scape Ore Swamp in mid-July. The Wayes’ car reportedly had battered chrome, detached molding, wires pulled from the engine, and a broken hood ornament, with red hairs and footprints left behind. [24] That incident brought Sheriff Liston Truesdale and wildlife officials into the mystery. A state wildlife biologist, Matt Knox, suspected a red fox had caused at least some of the Waye vehicle damage, though that explanation did not satisfy every question raised by the damage. [25]

After reading about the Waye case, Tommy Davis brought Chris to the Lee County Sheriff’s Office on July 16, 1988. Sheriff Truesdale later recalled that he was alone in the office when Chris and his father arrived. Chris began telling the story, and Truesdale “couldn’t believe it,” calling it “so far out.” [26] Yet the sheriff also believed the young man had been truly frightened. Davis and his father both said Chris had not been drinking. Davis told reporters directly: “I wasn’t drinking and I know what I saw.” [27]

The early reporting is important because Davis did not present the encounter as a polished monster-hunting tale. He did not claim to have solved the mystery of Scape Ore Swamp. He described something strange, terrifying, and unlike anything he had seen before. In one account, he allowed that it might theoretically have been a bear covered in wet greenish mud, but its behavior did not seem bear-like to him. [28]

Truesdale had Davis tell the story twice, including once on tape, and later noted that the second telling matched the first. He also asked Davis to sketch the creature. Davis drew a crude upright humanoid figure with three prominent fingers on each hand. Truesdale then asked whether Chris and Tommy would be willing to take a lie detector test; both agreed. [29]

Once the account became public, Browntown exploded into “Lizardmania.” The July 19, 1988, The State article by Jan Tuten introduced the wider public to a “scaly green creature about 7 feet tall with red, glaring eyes” said to be living deep in Scape Ore Swamp, and quoted Davis’ description of the thing that attacked his car. By July 20 and 21, newspapers were reporting television crews, curious sightseers, and a $1 million reward from Columbia radio station WCOS for bringing in the creature alive. [30]

Authorities were caught between ridicule and responsibility. Sheriff Truesdale publicly said he was following rumors because some callers were “reputable people.” Matt Knox, the wildlife biologist, was skeptical that Davis had seen a wild animal. His explanation was blunt: “As far as I’m concerned, it’s no wild animal. All I can guess is it was a man, possibly a drunk” who had been lying in a wet, muddy ditch and tried to catch a ride. But Knox also admitted the obvious problem with ordinary explanations: “Bears aren’t green, and they don’t have red eyes.” [31]

The story also created real danger. Within days, hunters and curiosity-seekers were gathering along Browntown Road at night, some armed, hoping for a glimpse of the creature. Truesdale warned that someone could get hurt. One Lee County Observer article warned that at least twenty people were out with flashlights and guns near the swamp, and that one hunter had even aimed a weapon at a passing bicyclist. [32] Davis’ story was no longer just a private fright. It had become a public safety issue, a media event, and a local carnival all at once.

Davis himself became famous almost overnight. Before the encounter, he was a high school student making $3.60 an hour at McDonald’s and hoping to play basketball. Afterward, he had an agent, T-shirt royalties, radio interviews, and attention from major media. But the attention was not entirely welcome. Later, Davis said, “I didn’t want it to happen, but it did,” and when asked if he would report the encounter again, he answered, “No, it wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t do my job, and I couldn’t play basketball.” [33]

On August 18, 1988, Davis took a polygraph administered by Sumter Police Captain Earl Berry. Questions included whether the creature that attacked the car was green and black, whether Davis had been drinking or using drugs, whether the creature jumped on the car while Davis was driving about 35 mph, and whether the incident occurred immediately after he changed a flat tire. Berry concluded Davis had been truthful. Polygraph results are scientifically disputed and generally not courtroom-proof, but the test supported Truesdale’s impression that Davis was not simply inventing the story. [34]

Later explanations tried to solve the mystery. One local rumor centered on Luscious “Brother” Elmore, a Browntown farmer whose butterbean shed was near the area. Elmore had problems with air-conditioning units being stolen and allegedly chased someone from his property around the same period. Some thought Davis may have mistaken Elmore for a monster. But this explanation does not close the case: no one could prove the person Elmore chased was Davis; Elmore did not claim to have jumped on the car or chased it at 35–40 mph; the damage to the mirror and roof still required explanation; and other witnesses claimed to have seen strange figures before Davis’ encounter. [35]

That is the core of the Chris Davis encounter: a teenage worker driving home from McDonald’s in the early morning dark; a flat tire near Scape Ore Swamp; a dry night under a nearly full or just-past-full moon; enough moonlight to change the tire; fields, trees, bugs, and isolation; a sudden upright figure coming from the tree line or field; red eyes, wet green skin, three fingers, rough hands, black nails, long swinging arms; a desperate scramble into a 1976 Toyota Celica; a leap onto the roof; a deep grunt; acceleration; pursuit at high speed; a crash on the roof; swerving to shake it loose; a frantic arrival home; a running car, a crying teenager, and physical damage his father said he found afterward.

Whether Chris Davis encountered an unknown creature, a misidentified animal, a man in the dark, or a local scare magnified by rumor, his account became the defining event in the Lizard Man legend because it had the structure of a nightmare and the specificity of a police statement. It was not merely “I saw something in the swamp.” It was: I was alone; I had a flat; I could see by the moon; I saw it come from the trees; it reached my car; it got on the roof; I heard it grunt; I fled; it chased me; I came home terrified.

And in the long, hot summer of 1988, that was enough to turn a lonely stretch of Browntown Road into one of the most famous monster roads in America.

Footnotes:

[^1]: Thomas M. Stubbs, “Scapo Swamp,” Names in South Carolina I, Spring 1954; Susan A. Mathis, quoted in “Notes on Names,” Names in South Carolina X, Winter 1963; T.W. Reynolds, “Addenda on Place Names Discussed in Recent Issues,” Names in South Carolina, November 1966; T.W. Reynolds, “Notes on Names,” Names in South Carolina, Winter 1967; Jeffrey Wildes, “Rivers and Creeks of Black River in Williamsburg County,” Names in South Carolina, Winter 1981.

[^2]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^3]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988.

[^4]: Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,” The State, July 19, 1988; “Sightings Of ‘Lizard Man’ Bring Concern By Some, Reward Offer,” The Evening Post, July 20, 1988, Associated Press; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^5]: NOAA National Centers for Environmental Information, Record of Climatological Observations: Bishopville 1.4 ENE, SC, June 1988 Daily Summary, station USC00380736.

[^6]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988.

[^7]: Moon Phases June 1988.

[^8]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^9]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^10]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^11]: “Lizard Man” article/interview, The Item, July 20, 1988, as quoted in Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^12]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988.

[^13]: Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,” The State, July 19, 1988; “Sightings Of ‘Lizard Man’ Bring Concern By Some, Reward Offer,” The Evening Post, July 20, 1988.

[^14]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988.

[^15]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^16]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^17]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^18]: Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,” The State, July 19, 1988; John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^19]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 6.

[^20]: “Lee County ‘Lizard Man’ Saga Continues To Grow,” The Evening Post, July 21, 1988, Associated Press; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^21]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^22]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^23]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2; John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,”.

[^24]: Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,” The State, July 19, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 1.

[^25]: “Sightings Of ‘Lizard Man’ Bring Concern By Some, Reward Offer,” The Evening Post, July 20, 1988, Associated Press.

[^26]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^27]: “Lee County ‘Lizard Man’ Saga Continues To Grow,” The Evening Post, July 21, 1988, Associated Press.

[^28]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^29]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 2.

[^30]: Jan Tuten, “‘Lizard Man’ Lurking in Lee County Swamp,” The State, July 19, 1988; Jan Tuten, “Monster Bash: ‘Reputable People’ Say They Saw the Elusive ‘Lizard Man,’” The State, July 20, 1988; “Lee County ‘Lizard Man’ Saga Continues To Grow,” The Evening Post, July 21, 1988, Associated Press.

[^31]: “Sightings Of ‘Lizard Man’ Bring Concern By Some, Reward Offer,” The Evening Post, July 20, 1988, Associated Press; Jan Tuten, “Monster Bash: ‘Reputable People’ Say They Saw the Elusive ‘Lizard Man,’” The State, July 20, 1988.

[^32]: The Lee County Observer, July 20, 1988, as quoted in Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 4.

[^33]: John Monk, “Fame Follows Close Encounter Of The Lizard Kind,” The Charlotte Observer, August 2, 1988; Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 6.

[^34]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 6.

[^35]: Lyle Blackburn, Lizard Man: The True Story of the Bishopville Monster, ch. 7.

Columbia Is Home to the First Pimento Cheese Recipe

Columbia, South Carolina has long been known as playing an important role in the history of pimento cheese, being the undisputed birthplace of the pimento burger which was invented by J.C. Reynolds, proprietor of the now defunct Dairy Bar, in the 1960's. It's also saturated in the stuff with almost every church cookbook containing one or more versions and almost every restaurant utilizing it in one or more ways. What hasn't been known is that the first published recipe for what we now consider modern pimento cheese also hails from Columbia in the form of a 1912 cookbook.

Pimento cheese has had a murky and long misunderstood history. Robert Moss, food historian and writer, set many misconceptions straight in his various articles on the subject, namely that pimento cheese was invented in the North as a combination of cream cheese (or Neufchâtel cheese) and pimentos. This obviously isn't what we would regard today as Southern pimento cheese and the transition to grated cheeses such as cheddar hasn't been clear from the written record. Moss was not able able to find any first hand accounts of Southerners even making pimento cheese before World War II.

1971 reprint of the 1912 Columbia, SC cookbook, A Friend in Need

Enter the 1912 cookbook, A Friend in Need, published by the Ladies of the Free Kindergarten Association of Columbia, South Carolina. It not only includes a recipe of the aforementioned older cream cheese version but also one that looks exactly like what we would consider pimento cheese today. Grated cheese, pimientos and mayonnaise. Ding, ding ding! It was written by Columbian Janie DuBose.

Janie Dubose's pimento cheese recipe from the 1912 Columbia, SC cookbook, A Friend in Need

Janie DuBose, author of the first published modern pimento cheese recipe, in a 1910 college yearbook

Why would the first modern pimento cheese recipe be published in Columbia and why all these years later is Columbia still such a pimento cheese hotbed? I believe it is because of the groundwork set in motion by E.T. Hendrix, proprietor of a grocery store, in 1910. For 27 days he published propaganda in The State newspaper instructing the citizens of Columbia to "Keep Kool, Eat Pimento Cheese". He began making pimento cheese and selling it by the pound instead of just in the prepackaged little bottles that food manufacturers were distributing which were using cream cheese. His version may have used grated cheeses like Janie Dubose's recipe. The recently opened restaurant Hendrix is named after this business.

Example of E.T. Hendrix ads in 1910 The State newspaper issues

So the ball is now in every other city and town's court. Find an earlier recipe that uses grated cheese, pimentos and mayonnaise. Until then, I'm claiming Columbia as the rightful home of pimento cheese.

Recipes from a 1929 Midlands Cookbook

Closeup of cover of Southern Recipes by Elizabeth G. Guion.

Elizabeth G. Guion, born Elizabeth Guinard, was born in Columbia, South Carolina in 1880. In 1897, she graduated from the Presbyterian College for Women which was housed in the present day Hampton Preston mansion. In 1929 she published a cookbook, entitled Southern Recipes from Old Green Hill Plantation, where she was living in Lugoff outside Columbia using R.L. Bryan as her printer, Columbia's oldest continuously operating business.

A WorldCat search on this cookbook, which I suspect was privately published, shows only two libraries in the world holding it. The South Caroliniana here in Columbia and Michigan State University over 600 miles away. My copy contains notations in many of the recipes written in pencil. I'm not sure if these are by a previous owner or Elizabeth herself, correcting errors and omissions.

I present to you the cookbook below. The page numbers skip because the back of each page was blank. Let me know if you cook anything from it by emailing me at hardyhchilders@gmail.com.

The Goat Specter of Columbia's Old River House

Linocut by Brielle Hayes Howard

If you have ever been to Sesquicentennial State Park you have probably noticed the log cabin. That structure is the oldest in Columbia and Richland County dating to around 1756. It was moved from River Drive to the park in the 1960's. Many don't know its haunted past. 

It is believed that in its early days, the house acted as a popular tavern to travelers on the Broad River. Sometime shortly after the Civil War, the owner of the house was murdered and robbed of a large sum of money. After the house had became vacant for a long time it gained the name of the "Old River House" and also a reputation for supernatural activity. The most common being that the specter of a white goat would chase trespassers down the stairs and then vanish.

Late one night, thought to be between 1890-1900, a destitute man was trying to make his way back to the Dutch Fork after looking for employment in Columbia but was caught up in a violent storm and had to seek shelter. After finding that the Old River House was abandoned he decided to make it his home for the night. Searching through the empty house he found a room containing corn shucks which he piled in a corner to use as his bed.

Hours later he awoke to a clear sky and pale moon. Through the light of the moon he was shocked to see the glowing form of a phantom goat standing in the doorway. Terrified, the man began to pray nervously until he noticed the goat wasn't trying to hurt him but rather get his attention by repeatedly walking into the room, turning around and looking back at him.

After this the man followed the goat to the upstairs room that it had appeared to the others that had entered the house. The specter went to the hearth of the fireplace and began to lightly hit the bricks with its horns. It stopped, turned around and began stomping its cloven feet "striking an almost human attitude of anxious intensity". Then it disappeared. Investigating the fireplace, he found that underneath the bricks was sand. Digging through the sand he found an earthen jar containing a thousand dollars in gold coins ($25,000 in today's dollars), which he later used to buy a farm near Irmo and soon became successful. 

The goat was never seen again in the Old River House. It eventually became occupied and fixed up to where no one even knew it was an old house. In the 1960's some siding was removed from 3325 River Drive and the structure we know today was rediscovered. 

The house being put back together again after its move from River Drive in 1969. Photo from Mabel Payne Collection at Richland Library.

Source: Bradley, F.W. "Carolina Folklore" The State 22 Aug. 1965

When Witches Rode the People of the Dutch Fork

Art by James Gilbert.

Not so far as ten miles from Columbia and up until 1835, it was very common for those in the Dutch Fork of South Carolina to be transformed into horses by witches and then ridden to great conventions where sometimes even the devil was a guest.

A man by the name of Martin Lybrand, respected by all in the community and whose character was never questioned, was repeatedly changed into a horse by an old woman who lived near him and ridden from the Dutch Fork out to the Sandhills where he was hitched to a pine tree. After the witch would go into a house, he would see lights and hear music and dancing that lasted all night long.

While on trial in 1792, Mary Ingleman was accused by Issac Collins of turning him into a horse after he was resting by a spring.

"He testified that after that she turned him into a horse and rode him to a grand convention of witches. Where, he could not say, but he thought somewhere in North America; and on the way the Devil rode up by her side and observed, 'Mother Ingelman, you have a splendid horse.'

" 'Ah,' she said, 'This is that rascal Collins!'"

Collins wasn't the only one to accuse her of this sort of act as her own grandson, Jacob Free, testified that Ingleman rode him to Pearson's apple orchard by the Broad river, six miles from his home, when:

"she was filling her bag with apples, his eye was attracted by the beautiful red apples that hung over him. He put up his long horse head to obtain a stealthy supply and while he was attempting to do so, she drove a punch into his cheek from the effects of which he did not soon recover."

In his 1860 fictional novel, John Punterick: A Novel of Life in the Old Dutch Fork, O.B. Mayer writes of a man named Awbergloibisch who after lying down on a cot in his yard after a heavy night of drinking was approached by Sibby Dessekker who slipped a bridle in his mouth and a saddle on his back. She mounted him with a broomstick in her right hand with which she hit him in the head and on his backside. They traveled to Ruff's Mountain, now known as Little Mountain, for a gathering of witches. He was hitched to a dogwood limb where in front of him were fifty witches dancing to the music of the devil who was playing a fiddle. The dancing went on until 2am when the devil helped Dessekker up onto the back of Awbergloibsich. On the return trip, he remembered that witches can't cross water so when they got to a mud-hole he threw his head down and kicked up his rear to throw off the witch and galloped across Crimm's Creek. She flew past him like a turkey vulture through the top of the trees riding the broom. He was able to get the saddle and bridle off himself  and trotted leisurely home just as the roosters began crowing.

Sources:

Scott, Edwin. Random Recollections of a Long Life: 1806 to 1876, Columbia: Charles A. Calvo, Jr., Printer, 1884

Summer, George Leland. Folklore of South Carolina, Including Central and Dutch Fork Sections of the State, Publisher Unknown, 1950

Gandee, Lee. The Witches of Fairfield, S.C., Fate Magazine, Jan. 1970

Mayer, O.B. John Punterick: A Novel of Life in the Old Dutch Fork (1860), Spartanburg: Reprint Co., 1981

When Alligators Roamed the State House Grounds

An alligator climbing out of the butterfly shaped pond on the State House grounds. Art by Wendy Brinker.

Twenty-two years before the State House even had a dome, attention was turned to revamping the grounds of the state capital of South Carolina. In the Summer of 1878, a five foot deep pond in the shape of a butterfly was built in the northwest corner of the State House grounds through prison labor. It featured four fountains and a bridge in the middle that was so huge that locals jokingly referred to it as the "bridge of size".

Pond with bridge circled in red. From 1895 map.

The pond featured standard wildlife such as turtles, goldfish and carp but it was the addition of two alligators, one being a gift of Governor Wade Hampton, that added a whole new element. The pond quickly became a favorite late night hangout and police were reported to come across "lively bathers". Adding to the danger of having alligators in the pond was the addition of a small boat which on at least one occasion capsized.

We don't know how long the alligators lived on the State House grounds or how many in total there may have been but we do know one met an unfortunate fate:

"The alligator, which spent his time between the capitol, lake and neighboring yards, was shot and killed by Mr. B.F. Griffin, on his premises ... This was his second visit to Mr. Griffin's yard."

At some point the pond was filled in due to maintenance problems. That corner of the State House is even more terrifying today with the addition of the statues of J. Marion Sims and Ben Tillman.

Sources:

Brown, John M. Creating the South Carolina State House, Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2001

Wilkinson, Jeff "Grounds Once Home to Gators, Gardens", The State 16 Aug, 1998

Columbia, SC Isn't Named After Columbus

Growing up in Columbia, South Carolina, I was always under the impression that my city was named after Christopher Columbus. There's even a statue of Columbus in Riverfront Park with a plaque saying "The first city as well as the first-planned capital in America named after Christopher Columbus..."

 

Christopher Columbus statue in Riverfront Park. Photos courtesy of One Columbia.

The problem is this isn't true.

The word Columbia had been used to describe the thirteen colonies since the 1730's. Yes, the word derived from Columbus but by the 1780's when the city of Columbia was formed, it had taken on a whole new meaning as a concept and the personification of the United States in goddess form.

A depiction of the goddess Columbia

The personification of Columbia was invented by poet Philiss Wheatley, a formerly enslaved woman, in her 1776 poem entitled His Excellency General Washington, of which here is an excerpt:

   Celestial choir! enthron’d in realms of light,
Columbia’s scenes of glorious toils I write.
While freedom’s cause her anxious breast alarms,
She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
See mother earth her offspring’s fate bemoan,
And nations gaze at scenes before unknown!
See the bright beams of heaven’s revolving light
Involved in sorrows and the veil of night!

   The Goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel binds Her golden hair:
Wherever shines this native of the skies,
Unnumber’d charms and recent graces rise.

Phillis Wheatley

The Wheatley Branch of Richland Library is named after her and there is picture of her inside.

When it came time to pick a name for the new capital that was being moved from Charleston to its present site, Senator John Lewis Gervais, whom the present day street is named after, in 1786 said, "in this town we should find refuge under the wings of COLUMBIA." It is from this speech that people rallied to name it Columbia, beating out the name Washington in an 11-7 vote in the state senate.

John Lewis Gervais

It is clear from Gervais' quote that Columbia, South Carolina was named for the goddess Columbia and not Christopher Columbus.