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BY MICHAEL KEATING
Originally the bucolic hunting grounds of the Cherokee, South
Carolina’s Upcountry was dominated in the early twentieth
century by the cotton mills that emerged as engines of
a revitalized South. And Greenville—midway between
Atlanta and Charlotte—became a mill capital surrounded
by mill towns.
Life in the mill towns was tough and the
work hard. The towns were usually built by and for the
owners, who provided factory churches and factory stores,
often with factory scrip. But in the cool of the evening
families gathered to watch the men play baseball: The Textile
Leagues were born.
At Brandon
Mills, 13-year-old factory worker Joe Jackson had already
earned a reputation. The eldest of eight children, he worked
by day at his father’s side. In the evening,
he was on the baseball field.
He was a phenomenon. He first
played in the Textile League and then in the minor leagues
for the Greenville Spinners. More and more people came out
to see him. He was a natural—beautiful
and graceful on the diamond. His home runs were known as “Saturday
specials”; his line drives, “blue darters”;
his glove, “the place where triples go to die.”
Once
when new cleats had rubbed a blister on his foot, he took
to the batter’s box in his stocking feet. As the
ball soared into the outfield and Jackson dashed around the
bases, someone in the bleachers shouted out, “Look
at that shoeless son of a bitch.” A nickname was born:
Shoeless Joe Jackson.
He entered the major leagues with the
Athletics, where he was ridiculed as a hick and a rube (which
he was), then he was traded to Cleveland, where he was admired
for his style and his skill (which were unmistakable). These
were the great years of Jackson’s career. He developed
a swing so pure that Babe Ruth admitted copying it. “In
1911, his first full season, he hit .408,” wrote sports
historian A.D. Suensdorf. “He was unerring in the field,
had a powerful and accurate arm, and ran bases with savvy.”
He was traded to Chicago, and his career abruptly was ruined.
He was one of eight players implicated in the Black Sox Scandal—where
players were bribed by bookies to throw the 1919 World Series.
His performance during the Series was his best defense: His
fielding was flawless and his .375 batting average was the
highest of any player on either team.
Unfortunately, he was
gullible, naïve, and provincial—and
unable to read or write. The lawyer he hired was more interested
in protecting his boss. Nevertheless, a Chicago jury found
all eight men innocent. But Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw
Mountain Landis banned all eight from the majors.
Eventually
he returned to Greenville, where people knew him best and
never believed the accusations—people who
still vividly remembered the transformational athletic beauty
of that boy who was one of their own. He opened Joe Jackson’s
Liquor Store and died of a heart attack at 63.
Recently, Joe
Jackson’s house was moved to a new location
by the baseball field, where it will open as a museum June
22. There’s a statue of him on Main Street on the West
Side.
The West End Field survives, now known as Fluor Field.
The Greenville Spinners went the way of the Textile League,
and Greenville is now home to the Drive, a Boston Red Sox
farm team.
During the VVA Leadership Conference, the Drive will
host games against the Lake City Captains on July 16, 17,
18, and 19, starting at 7 o’clock. The most expensive
seats, which boast seat backs and arm rests, go for $8; the
cheapest—lawn and deck seats—go for $5.
If prosperity
came to Greenville with the textile mills, prosperity left
with them, too. By the time the shopping malls dealt the
final blow to the city, downtown was empty, squalid, and
scary.
Renaissance means rebirth, and Greenville
has been reborn.
Some
of the best evidence of that lies right outside the doors
of the Greenville Hyatt Regency, VVA’s host hotel. “It’s
taken a lot of time,” mused Dicky Nix, former president
of VVA Chapter 543.
“But it was all there on paper,” interjected
his wife, AVVA Regional Director Nancy Nix.
“Now it’s really come about,” Dicky said
with a little awe and a little disbelief. He’s seen
the bad days. But as he leads a small tour of his home city,
he’s both surprised and delighted to see how far downtown
has come.
More than seventy restaurants are an easy walk from
the hotel. Good ole Southern cooking? Sure. And rib joints?
Got ’cha.
But add to that sushi and Thai, excellent Italian, Tex-Mex,
and a French café. And the list goes on.
Most of these
restaurants are on or near Main Street, which is just behind
the Hyatt. That’s a little complicated
for those in wheelchairs, who will need to take the elevator
to the hotel’s second floor, then take the walkway
past the Hyatt’s restaurant to the exit at the back
corner of the hotel.
A few blocks down tree-lined Main Street,
sharing an intersection with an abandoned Woolworth’s,
is a modest sculpture depicting two African-American students.
Throughout most of the twentieth century, there was only
one school in South Carolina’s Upcountry for black
students: Sterling High School. The school consistently received
the least funding, the worst equipment and furniture, and
the greatest neglect. Despite that, a vibrant community developed
around the school and those black students who pursued their
education there.
In
short, Sterling High School and its students were invested
with all the hopes and dreams of the Greenville African-American
community. In the late 1960s those students acted on those
dreams and sat down at Woolworth’s lunch counter. With
that simple defiant act, the movement was born that resulted
in the integration of Greenville’s public buildings.
In
1967, during a senior class dance to raise money for Miss
Homecoming festivities, the school caught fire and was destroyed.
Although the fire marshal blamed faulty wiring, few believed
him. Three years later, the Greenville school system was
integrated.
Stroll several blocks further south, cross the
bridge at Reedy River, walk down another block, turn left
down the stairway (or take the nearby elevator), and you’re
at Liberty Bridge. This 355-foot suspension bridge, an engineering
feat supported only on one side, swings out over the Reedy
River Falls. Once the site of textile mills and cotton warehouses,
the 32-acre Falls Park is now a respite from city life with
gentle walkways that follow the river.
It’s ideal for
an evening stroll. But on Wednesday, July 16, starting around
7 o’clock, it will be a great
place for music when Marvin King and the Blues Revival, a
local “jam band with a passion to play,” takes
the stage. The site is the Peace Center Amphitheater on the
river. And it’s free, except for the beer.
Come back
Thursday night and “shag the night away to
beach music.” Also at the Amphitheater, it’s
part of Larkin’s Rhythm on the River. The beach music—featuring
the Out of Towners—costs five bucks, but it goes to
charity. Doors open at 6: 30; the music starts between 7
and 7:30. Hot dogs and hamburgers will be on the grill and
there’s a fully stocked bar.
Just a little ways down
the river, past the Falls, the Upstate Shakespeare Festival
will be in full swing with a production of Molière’s
The Miser. All performances are free. They start at 7 o’clock
(arrive early; it’s
lawn seating), July 17-20.
If free music is what you’re
interested in but you can’t make it Wednesday or perhaps
the six-block walk was daunting, you’ll have another
opportunity Thursday. Just a block south of the hotel on
the west side of Main Street is Piazza Bergamo, site of Thursday’s
Downtown Live! concert. Be there at 7 o’clock for beer
and blues. Gas House Mouse will perform.
Friday night, July 19, the music
moves even closer, with a free concert on the plaza just
outside the Hyatt. As part of the Main Street Jazz series,
vocalist Kellin Watson will perform with her band. You can’t
beat the price. Hours are 6-9:30. Food and beer will be served:
Not free.
You won’t
find nice shops and restaurants north of the hotel on Main
Street. But you will find, just beyond Springwood Cemetery
and across from McPherson Park, a large Bi-Lo Supermarket
and the closest liquor store. It’s
only a few blocks, but on foot the hill is daunting, especially
in summer.
Instead of the north-south walk along Main Street,
you can go out the front door of the Hyatt and take a right
on Beattie Place. That will take you past the Bi-Lo Center
(named for the grocery chain) just a few blocks away, which
is the place where all the big rock and country acts play.
For concert information, go to www.bilocenter.com
Beyond the Bi-Lo Center
is the Pettigru Historic District. Those who love historic
neighborhoods will be disappointed. This area is not so much
preserved as it is embalmed. No one really lives here; lawyers
long ago snatched up everything for offices. It’s not
the place to go to admire gardens or especially nice restorations.
Even the local grammar school has been converted into a credit
union (“Zero percent
on balance transfers”).
However, you might want to stop
by the Museum and Library of Confederate History, a bungalow
converted into a repository of Confederate memorabilia. The
collection is good, but not as interesting as the band of
volunteer curators—people
who are committed and well read. Although they keep fairly
regular hours, they are delighted to accommodate members
of VVA. They will stay open late or early, just give them
a call at 864-421-9039. The museum is wheelchair accessible
through the parking lot entrance.
Closer to the hotel, just
a few blocks away at E. North and Church Streets, is Christ
Church, one of the city’s
oldest and most beautiful places of worship. During an early
morning stroll through the cemetery, one will discover tombstones
dating to the Civil War. Among the tombstones is one for
Lt. John Julius Pringle Alston, who died of “typhoid
fever contracted in the defense of his state at Ft. Sumter.”
It’s
a handsome brick church. Should you get inside, the light
in the simply adorned but large space is filtered through
stained glass windows. The huge depiction of the Last Supper
behind the altar came from a Munich studio.
If
you slip out the front door of the Hyatt Regency and turn
left (west), you will be headed toward one of the treasure
troves of Greenville—its Heritage Green. On this tract
of land, a mere two blocks from the Leadership Conference
hotel, are located the Greenville County Art Museum, the
Upcounty History Museum, a new gallery for the Bob Jones
University Museum, and a library.
Don’t be fooled by
its modest name. The Greenville County Art Museum has an
extensive and remarkable collection. First and foremost,
it owns the world’s largest collection
of Andrew Wyeth watercolors. These are gorgeous, magical
things. From a distance, only the exquisite technical and
compositional control suggests that these are not photographs.
But as one gets closer, everything on the paper disintegrates
into quick and impulsive brush stabbings and doodles and
seemingly random eddies of color wash.
These are not the small
and precious works one often associates with watercolors.
Some of Wyeth’s works measure three
by four foot. Moreover, they span an amazing amount of time:
Under Live Oaks, for instance, is dated 1938, while the very
large Buttercups was painted in 1992.
With the Hyatt so near,
one can luxuriate with this master’s
work for a half-hour today, maybe an hour tomorrow. There’s
never an admission charge and the museum is open Tuesday
to Saturday from 11-5 (it’s open until 8 o’clock
Thursday) and Sunday, 1-5.
While the Wyeths may make up the
diamond necklace of the collection, there’s lots more
to see. There’s
a huge collection of work by South Carolina native son Jasper
Johns and a very interesting if quirky collection of other
American paintings. The museum collects only American painting,
and the perspective is decidedly Southern. The Southern Collection
includes such twentieth century masters as Georgia O’Keeffe,
Thomas Hart Benton, and Edward Hopper. Be sure to take a
look at George Bellows’ Massacre at Dinant and Red
Grooms’ Painting from a “Play Called Fire.”
Bob
Jones University is well known for its staunch conservatism.
It’s not quite as well known for its vast collection
of Christian art, which spans the fourteenth to the nineteenth
centuries and includes all the movements of Western Europe,
as well as the icon traditions of Russia. Four hundred paintings
are on view at the on-campus museum outside town. But a sampling
of more than twenty Old Master paintings from that collection
is now hanging at the Bob Jones University Museum and Gallery
at Heritage Green. This new exhibit space, a former Coca-Cola
building, just opened in April. Admission: $5.
Also be sure
to visit the Upcountry History Museum. Covering most periods
of Upcountry history, including the wilderness period, the
Revolutionary War, the eviction of the Cherokee, the Civil
War, the rise of the textile mills, and a display on Shoeless
Joe Jackson, the museum is bright, airy, and still feels
new. There’s a suggested donation.
If, however,
it’s a nice day and you would rather go
out for a stroll, just beyond Heritage Green off Butler Street
is the Hampton-Pickney Historic District. Grand wooden homes
wrapped in broad porches set back from crepe myrtle-bordered
streets. Lush gardens unfold in the front yards and dogs
and kids play in the back.
By Saturday
morning, the last day of VVA’s Leadership
Conference, restaurant food may be losing its charm. A three-block
stroll down Main Street to the Carolina First Farmers Market
might restore one’s delight in home-grown produce.
The
market opens at 8 o’clock and runs till noon. It’s
a cornucopia of Upcountry fruits and produce. Displays of
blackberries and peaches compete with yellow squash, green
beans, fat red tomatoes, and both white and yellow corn.
While the emphasis is on local produce, there are masses
of fresh-cut flowers and local herbs and spices to delight
both eye and nose.
Additionally, beekeepers bring their wares
and there are jellies, jams, preserves, pickles, and relish
from local kitchens. Craftsmen from the region exhibit local
products, including ceramics, baskets, and gourd work. And,
of course, there’s fresh-ground coffee and a bountiful
selection of breads and pastries from local bakers.
And behind all those
booths are all those beautiful Carolina faces, sun-kissed
and smiling, open and welcoming.
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