Chapter One
Berkeley County is the largest county in the state of South Carolina, which consists of forty-six counties. Back in the ‘good ole days’, when I was a child, our county was listed among the poorest in the state. In the late thirties, when Santee Cooper, the state-owned power generating station, was born, things started changing in Berkeley County. The state-run power station began to clear the lake sites, build dikes, and prepare to generate electricity.
When the power company came to our state, many changes came about in Berkeley County. It was the ending of an era...literally the ending...many of the old plantation homes were submerged beneath the water when the dam was built, forever burying a part of our history and a way of life which was no longer useful or even working, for that matter. As old things came to an end, new things began happening. Suddenly there were jobs in our county other than working a farm or making moonshine whiskey (although some still preferred making ‘shine to working a legal job)!
My father, William Elvin Shuler, was a foreman on the WPA (Works Projects Administration). The WPA was used by the government as a way to give work to the vast number of unemployed. My father and his crew were working on the dam for Santee Cooper. On the 19th of December, 1940, a falling tree struck another tree, knocking loose a limb which fell and struck my father, killing him instantly. He was 45 years old. I often think if they had hard hats back then it might have prevented his death at such an early age. All seven of us children were home with the exception of my oldest brother who was in the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) camp in Georgetown.
We had a little farm and we grew our vegetables and Mom spent all summer canning and drying them for winter. We raised hogs for butchering and chickens for Sunday dinner and to provide eggs. We had a cow for milk and butter. My mother got a check for fifty dollars a month, which was a lot of money back then. We actually lived pretty well since we had learned early that everyone pitches in and does their share. My father and mother had instilled in us at an early age that we all had to work to survive and work we did without too many complaints. I guess hard work won’t kill a body for my mother lived to be 96 years old.
The dam was finally built and the power company gradually became a part of our community. Small dots of light peppered the landscape as electricity snaked its’ way throughout the area. One by one the small households put away their kerosene lamps, keeping them only to be used for an emergency. Electric lights became commonplace in the early forties. It wasn’t long before the advent of indoor toilets...and the sad demise of the outhouse. I could write a book on stories of the ole outhouse!
During this era of time, mules and wagons were the order of the day for transportation. There were few cars on the road, for they were not affordable to most folks. The roads were all dirt except for Highway 52, which if you followed it for a few miles, would take you into Charleston. It might have been a hundred miles away, though, for in those days people living in the infamous Berkeley County area were virtually isolated from the charming, more sophisticated, city of history, Charleston, South Carolina.
When the heavy rains came sweeping down on us, the roads would become muddy and slippery, nearly impassible for a car, which would be certain to bog down or slide into the wide open ditches. A wagon, however, with its’ large wheels could keep on going as the ole mule pulled it through belly-deep water.
I remember when Highway 17 A was paved, sometime around 1948. Most of the older folks thought it was a waste of good money. I don’t think it was though, for look how long it has lasted! To my knowledge they haven’t done a thing to it since, except fill in and black-top a few potholes, usually right before election time!
In the old days in Berkeley County, you did one of two things: you worked on a farm or you made corn whiskey. Jobs were scarce but if you could get a ride into town, and had a little money or some credit, you could buy your supplies for either purpose. I guess it was lucky for the good folks in Berkeley County that the sheriff only had one deputy, or most of us would have landed in jail at one time or the other!
We depended on the old country store tremendously. The proprietor tried to keep everything in stock a man, woman, or child, could possibly need. Inside the jumbled array of goods, you could find almost anything, from a mule collar to a pair of black patent leather shoes. (Did you know the girls in the family, lucky enough to own a pair of patent leather shoes, would use one of her mam’s good hot biscuits to shine them up for ‘Sunday-go-to-meeting’?) A good store-keeper also kept a vast array of liniments and ointments for the ailments which struck us all at one time or the other. And of course there were colorful cotton dress goods and thread for the women folk. If you couldn’t afford store bought material, though, you could buy food for your live-stock in practically any color or design of cloth sacks which could be used to make dresses, quilts, curtains, or practically any other necessity. ‘Feed sacks’ they were called then and a city girl wouldn’t have been caught dead in one, back then. I hear they are called ‘collectibles’ now, bringing in big money. Of course most country folk raised food for the live-stock on their farms, but it was pretty difficult to turn down the vivid bags of food, knowing it would serve such good purposes: appeasing the wives and giving the pigs a treat at the same time. That didn’t happen too often!
A Sears and Roebuck Catalog was a necessity in a country home. A body could order almost anything imaginable by mail; clothes, household items, and even the supplies to build a house. There are still some old Sears and Roebuck houses around, standing strong, with an honest purity we seldom find anymore. Sears gave credit even back then and you could send a small payment by mail each month in the form of a money order. When the catalog was out-dated and replaced by a new one, we ‘recycled’ it and used it in the out-house. I often wonder how people managed before Sears starting sending out catalogs.
I was told that our government, during the depression years, promised every man in the country, forty acres of land and a mule. There should be a tribute to the ole mule. In my opinion, the mule saved this country from starvation during the depression, but got little recognition for it. It’s a real shame so many people have gotten their pictures on stamps, but according to government records, there is not a jackass among them.