Alvin Green, Manning South Carolina
Sunday, June 20th, 2010I took a detour into celebrity this weekend. It was quite unexpected, After two weeks in Fayetteville, I wanted to venture out and see some countryside. I had met someone online, who lives about 122 miles away, so I decided to take him up on his invitation.
“Just come down 95 to exit #119. There’s a Shoney’s restaurant, I’ll meet you there.” For those who don’t spend time in the Carolina’s, Shoney’s is legendary. For $6.99, you can get a very decent lunch, or help yourself to their extensive all you can eat buffet. The surroundings are modern, clean, the staff is very perky and attentive, everyone eats at Shoney’s. I got there first, and was ushered into the only booth available in the non-smoking section, a seven foot long “family” booth. The separators between the booths are about two feet above shoulder level, Southerner’s are boisterous story tellers, and the cadences and laughter are deep and rich. The place felt like the Overlook Cafe on Sunday after church, except louder.
Carl Jackson is a native of Manning South Carolina. He has traveled a lot, worked in many different cities around the east coast and returned to Manning a few years ago. He works for the Manning Times, a weekly paper that has served Clarendon County since 1882.
Carl and “Rock”
Carl was recently quoted in the New York Times article about Manning’s current famous resident, Alvin Greene. Mr. Greene is the previously unknown gentleman who won the South Carolina Democratic Primary for the U.S. Senate. “It is another embarrassment for South Carolina, said Carl F. Jackson Jr, a graphic designer at a local newspaper, The Clarendon Citizen. “Anybody who got beyond eighth grade is a little astounded by this,” Mr. Jackson said, adding his own theory of how Mr. Greene had won. “Maybe voters thought it was the singer, Al Green.”
I was not aware of the celebrity status of Manning or Carl when I accepted his invitation to come for the weekend, but the entire experience turned out to be one of the most delightful travel experiences I have ever had.
Of course, the weather this time of year is hot in the day, and warm at night. South Carolina is the Palmetto state, and the little (or not so little) “palmetto bugs” are omnipresent. The sandy soil has an ant hill every two feet in the yards and open fields. But the pine trees are also lush with wildlife. In five minutes we saw cardinals, robins, stunning red crested woodpeckers (including some percussive moments as they worked on a couple of the local trees), squirrels, and at night the chorus of bull frogs, owls, cicadas, and other local fauna filled the liquid thick night air. And the hum of the AC compressors, as well as the rattle of ceiling fans in all rooms except the bathrooms, provides a sort of electronica/nature chorus that is unique to the low country south.
The front yard which faces the lake
Carl’s home, which has been the family “lake cottage” for decades, sits on the banks of the Lake Marion, which is part of a group of lakes which were formed by the Tennessee Valley Authority to provide water to run hydroelectric power about 60 years ago. The lakes offer recreation for the region, and the shores are dotted with homes, mostly modest dwellings, owned by working class folks.
Carl’s pontoon boat, dock and the lake
I decided I wanted a good steak for dinner, so Carl took me to a very local place, about three miles away, also on the lake bank. I don’t remember the name of the place, but it was pure country white folks, jeans, t-shirts, Harley’s parked outside, and karaoke for entertainment. The tables were lined up road house style, dark lighting, smoke as thick as you could cut it, red faces, kind hearts. The moment Carl walked in, everyone stopped to talk to him.
The conversations consisted of exchanging health information about relatives and friends, lots of “God Bless you”s, spiced with introductions of me and “Glad you’re here”s. Lots of folks came up to put their arm around Carl and tell me what a great guy he is, “like a brother.” Southerners are open and easy to engage. It is ubiquitous, applies to both black and white, it is the single thing I most miss about “Dixie”, there are no strangers, just friends that have not yet met.
I ordered a 14 oz. Rib Eye steak and it was one of the best steaks I’ve eaten in a long time, $14.99 with all the fixins, including slaw and hush puppies.
Carl comes from a long time Democratic family. His mother has been an elected official numerous times in the region, politics are as thick as humidity here. The county is solidly Democratic, owing largely to it’s being 75% African American. Like most smaller communities, everyone knows everyone, or at least it feels that way.
Carl was very clear that he will vote for Alvin Greene. “He won fair and square, and the party should support him.” Today on CNN, I heard that the Democratic Party of South Carolina has decided not to contest Mr. Greene’s candidacy. I suspect within a month or so, once the shock has worn off, the party will actively support Mr. Greene. In a state of “Yellow Dog Democrats”, the thought of “payback” to the Republican party for decades of Strom Thurmond may prove too irresistible.
Certainly the south is now the most racially “open” region in the country, a place where African Americans have been a significant part of the landscape since the first colonists landed. In terms of the November election, my money is on Alvin Greene. I think there are so many people in this country who are disgusted with the political status quo in DC, the idea of electing someone who is truly “one of us” may trump all the usual political expectations and predictions. Mr. Greene could very well become the Jesse Ventura of South Carolina.
I genuinely enjoyed my time with Carl, and the lifestyle in Manning and around the lake. After the steak, I got up and sang “Cowboys are Frequently Secretly in Love with Each Other” by Willie Nelson on the karaoke machine. I was reminded by my surroundings and my host that “working people” everywhere are kind, open, accepting and generous. It’s only when you add some money and pretense that things start getting difficult.
I stopped at “Lanes Quick Stop” about a mile up the road on my way out. The gas station/convenience store proudly states, “No Ethanol, Better Mileage” on it’s signs. More importantly, ethanol free gasoline is essential to marine engines, that tend to “gunk up” their fuel systems on ethanol blended fuels. (Oregon had to modify it’s ethanol mandate to exclude marine gasoline about a year after it started, for the same reason). The customers in the store were a lively mix of black and white, swapping fishing stories, fish cooking recipes, dripping in “Thank You”s and “Ya’ll come back now”s.
As I sit here, back in Fayetteville, watching the sun set through the thick air, safe in my air conditioned hotel suite, Portland feels like another world. And, of course, it is, and I miss our lovely Rose City, even if it seems that “Juneary” weather will last an eternity. I offer this epistle in my absence for your enjoyment. Tomorrow is another day with the kids, who are getting accustomed to the big old man in their midst, and I am learning lessons in how to be a kid that I never learned when I was one.
From the sand hills of Cumberland County North Carolina, Edward “Ed” Garren