Laurens County Riot Adventure: election day and riot day

(or: a real close shave!)

The next morning – Thursday the 19th, which was the morning of the election, there were a great many armed men in town. There were three polls certainly, and there may have been four. At two of these polls there was no particular difficulty. There was a little falling out between some colored men and white men at one, early in the morning. I was sitting at the hotel when I saw a man go up and push a Negro away. Pistols were drawn by the white men, but no blows struck. I got the names of men whom I saw commit an assault at the polls. J. C. Raiforth was the name of one. I inquired his name, and I saw it on the hotel register afterward. I sent the names of those two men who were trying to drive the negroes away from the polls to Mr. Crews, but no one knew that as I sent a boy with a little note to tell him.

At about 10 o'clock, after breakfast, I went out to the Army camp. The camp was perhaps a quarter of a mile from town. Along during the forenoon one of the State constables came down there, and in a little while another came down. They had been driven away from the polls of the precinct, they stated. They wanted some help. The colonel thought it was not best to send any troops down there just then. They sat around a while. I was sitting outside of the tent in a chair, looking about and after a time I saw a colored man that I had seen about there – a constable – coming across the field. I went to meet him as I saw him coming toward the tent. He said there was going to be a fight. It appeared that Tyler, one of the State Constables, had been driven out at Clinton, some eight or nine mile below, and had come up there when the attack was made on this poll in the town the Constable had come from. He went immediately to Mr Crew’s house and drew up these colored Militia Soldiers that he had. I felt as if there was going to be a row there from what I had heard talked over and from the elements that were there. I went to Colonel Smith and told him “Colonel, you had better go right down there at once and stop this thing or there will be a terrible row right off” and he did go. Col. Smith wanted me to stay in the camp. I had had some experience, though I was not then an officer of the Army.

When he got down there the militia was drawn up in Mr. Crew's yard. I could see the edge of them from the camp; and I could see the commotion among the mounted men. The white men were formed at the head of the street. The town is chiefly on a square. They had formed at the head of the street, facing the militia, drawn up to charge. The colonel went to Constable Tyler, a young man who had not much discretion, and asked, "What are you going to do?" Tyler said, "I am going to fight if they charge me." He saw by the young man's countenance that he would fight. Colonel Smith said to Tyler, " I have no authority to order you to put your arms away ;" to which Tyler replied "If it is your advice, you are an older soldier than I am; but if they fire into me I shall fight." He went to the white men, and said that they should not fire, and they promised not to fire, and by his efforts the thing was quieted down. The Negroes put away their arms, and the other parties went away but did not all go home ; there was a very large crowd there ; to guess at it, there were four thousand people there. There was no further trouble after that on that day, and all went on quietly.

That night there was a general clearing out of the town, colored and white, and things were tolerably quiet.
I again spent the night in the same hotel room as the night before. I overheard them say that they had stuffed the ballot boxes. They had carried out their plan, and put the ballot-box back in the buggy.

It was rainy the next morning – Friday the 20th, and I made up my mind to go across the country to Anderson, as it was so quieted down. Colonel Smith left long before day with his command. I went over to the barber-shop. There is a large court-house which stands in the center of the square. I was over at one corner, at this barber-shop, and was getting shaved. I purposely kept myself away from the constables. I felt annoyed in the barber-shop when they came in there. I knew the feeling against them. I felt like a cat in a strange garret, and did not want to be mixed up in any thing. On the next corner was the hotel. All at once I heard a pistol-shot. I jumped out of the chair and ran out. One of the State constables, named McKean, who was in the barber-shop getting shaved, grasped his pistol and started across. As quick as I got into the square I saw there was going to be a fight. I had on a light-colored coat, which made me rather conspicuous, as there were no others like it. You know how it is with a man when anything of that kind comes up. It went through my mind like lightning what I should do. I knew the disposition of the people. I knew they were ripe. This Constable went out into the square on one side of the court house, and I went out on the other. I got past the ally way which runs across. My idea was to get down to Mr. Crew’s house, where there were almost all of the men. I got as far as past this ally way. I saw a man named Wayne Williams from Spartanburg village. I saw him shooting at the constables who were running down back of the building. He was shooting as fast as he could shoot and was the best picture of a bushwhacker I ever saw, crouching, running along, and firing. I knew him by sight at once. He was going sidewise, as it were—bending over to shoot, drawing down.

The fire was so hot on both sides that I went inside the court house. A hallway leads all the way through and I walked the whole length of the court house. I went up the steps that lead to where the Judge was sitting, and I came in of course behind him. Court was sitting at the time; the Judge was standing up, and he turned to me and asked what was the matter. I told him a terrible riot was going on down in the square. He adjourned the court, and told the sheriff to call out the posse comititas. The sheriff said he had already done so. I went into the bar of the court-room and sat down for a minute or two to consider. Just then there was a very loud explosion in the yard. I did not know what it was, but it was nearly as loud as a 12-pounder cannon. I went to the window and watched the fight for a few moments from the second story. Some were getting hurt. People were rushing up the steps. There was a regular throng of black and white people mixed up together there. I made up my mind that this was no place for me. I thought there would be a muss. I went out and went through the fire, walking across to the corner of the square. I walked; I would not run for fear they would think I was mixed up in it and shoot at me. After I got around the corner I ran very fast on into the woods, and went through the woods until I struck the railroad almost two miles below the town. I knew that a hand car came past with the mail. I thought I would go on until I reached that, and then I would go down by it to Columbia. I went on. I had got about five miles from Laurens Court House, and was hailed from my hiding place by Mr. Powell. I told the Judge – for to that position Mr. P. had been elected – that he should be more discreet as the woods were full of the pursuers. We then separated, thinking that the surest way of escape. When Mr. Powel got about thirty rods for me, I saw him surrounded by twenty or thirty of this rebel herd, who immediately commenced firing at him. He fell, pierced with more than twenty bullets, and then one of these representatives of Southern chivalry, dismounted from his horse, and placed the muzzle of his gun close to his head and fired, while another struck a blow which fractured the skull, just back of the ear. When they were finished murdering Mr. Powell, they turned their attention to me, but I managed to elude them with only a flesh wound. When I got to the middle of a high trestle, a group of mounted men commenced shooting at me from a cotton field.

I had heard a regular stream of them passing along as I left the town; I crossed the trestle; there was a little road below, and I ran into a squad of them, and they gobbled me up. They were going to shoot me; they accused me of being a State constable; I told them I was not one, but one said I was not from around there, and asked "What business have you here?" I told them that I was crossing the country to Anderson ; that I was a revenue officer. They would not believe it and when it came to shooting, when they got their guns cocked, I resorted to the last resort, and captured the attention of the Captain of the squad. I gave a Masonic sign to him – recognizing that he was the only Mason there - and he stuck by me until I got down. He asked me where I was born; I told him Trenton, New Jersey. I would not say Massachusetts, for fear the crowd of young men there would consider that a sufficient excuse to kill me. They dragged me for rods by the collar to shoot me; four different times they were going to shoot me; from there down to Mr. Copeland's house I was to walk. I had a little interview with this mason – the Captain. We went apart a little ways; they insisted upon shooting me anyhow. He left me and told me to go on, that nobody would trouble me between there and Copeland's, that all the men going to Laurens were with him; that all the others had gone ahead; that he was in command, and I need not fear. I walked about a mile after that, when I heard horses coming behind me, and I looked around and saw him, followed by part of the crowd. The Captain (Mr. Little) told me he had never ridden a mile so quickly before; they had started back to shoot me. They drummed me with the ends of their guns on the head until my head was as sore as a blister. They would say, " come here, you damned galoot, I will guard you to the bashes." That is a common phrase with them—a term of reproach. I knew what they meant; it was to shoot me. They drew me up. They were going to shoot. . When I thought there was no hope at all I pulled my coat open, and said, "You call yourselves South Carolina chivalry to shoot an old soldier in this way. I can take it." Mr Little prevented them. He got between them and me—and finally he got off of his horse. He told them if they shot me they would have to shoot him. I told them I could be shot. I first made a fair statement of who and what I was, and what I was about. They would not take that statement, but still declared that I was a State Constable, and insisted upon it. I told them I was not. Of course, Little was bound to believe me and did believe me; but they would not take any such statement, and were intent on shooting me. I had two more little incidents like that that afternoon with this party and others that joined them. They dragged me off once or twice out of his care. They took me out four or five yards. They would take me by the collar and start the horse into a trot, and take me right out from him for a moment. I told them if they only wanted my life they could shoot me; but I did not want them to shoot me in the back. I could hear them cocking their pieces; and it was not a comfortable feeling to be walking in front of them.


Eventually, Mr. Copeland came to me. The captain had been to him. It was in the same spirit. I was lying beside the road. Having been several times wounded in the service I get easily tired out. As I lay there, there was a man that Captain Little and Mr. Copeland could not get to leave. He was a lawyer named Spencer, who swore he was going to shoot me anyhow. He cursed Masonry and called me a “galoot”. Mr Copeland, being the most influential man about there, had a pretty sharp talk with him. Spencer said “I know what you think, but I am going to shoot him. Finally I said “If you want to shoot me, shoot. I have a wife and family, as you have probably. If I am to be shot I can stand it, but it will not end here”. That shamed him.

When I got down to Mr. Copeland's house, they were very particular about my trusting myself to Mr. Farley. I was a little more skeptical, because I had heard Mr. Copeland reciting over nine who had been killed, among them Mr. Powell, whom I knew very well; and two were lying in the road, within a quarter of a mile, according to Mr. Copeland’s story, I went in the house and secreted myself about three hours, while Mr. Copeland went down to Clinton, where all the crowd had gone that had come from Spartanburg and Newberry. He said he had to go and quiet things down as they were full of spirits and quarrelling amongst themselves.
I have no doubt of a preconcerted plan to have a riot, from the fact of that signal gun back in Laurens. The moment that was fired, all the country was alive. After I got to Mr. Copeland’s house, men who’s names I knew rode in from Spartanburg and Newberry, and a whole company from Union. There were over a thousand men right there, within a quarter of a mile from where I was secreted. They came in squads to Mr. Copeland’s house and got their meals. Mr Copeland came back. He kept an open table there, and these young men were coming and going all the time. I kept close hid up stairs until evening. In the evening he went away again. I wanted to put on as good a face as possible, and I took up a little child and went down stairs where his wife was and sat down by the fireplace. I was trotting the child on my knee and making the best of it, when two young men came in and said they had got Wade Perrin down at Martin's Depot. He was a member of the legislature, and was one of the chief men at Laurens—prominent among the colored men. They spoke to me and did not know me. I only said, "Well." The old lady said, "That gentleman is a stranger”. It fretted me a little. They had been riding, and had their guns. They were coming in and going out of the house all night; food was kept on the large table. They were talking about the fight, and talk of no particular importance. I went to bed about half-past two.