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SHA' HELL... AND GOOD CORN LIQUOR:
THE LEGACY OF SILAS BUTTS
A Thesis
Presented to
the Graduate School of
Clemson University
In Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirements for the Degree
Master of Arts
History
by
Nicholas Barker Gambrell
December 2003
Advisor:
Dr.
Alan Grubb
ABSTRACT
Silas Noah Butts was known as "the mountain man" in
Oconee County, South Carolina. During the first half of
the twentieth century, Silas and his wife, Louisa,
maintained an unofficial orphanage at their home where
they took in children of all ages. Silas built a
schoolhouse for the orphans on his farm and yet, he could
neither read nor write. He was most notorious for his
moonshining and humor, especially within the courtroom.
This thesis deals with the legacy that Silas Butts has
left behind. His intentions for "adopting" the children
are examined as well as their education and his
moonshining. Louisa Butts has remained in the shadow of
Silas' legacy and yet her role at their home was crucial
to their survival. This thesis utilizes newspapers and
court records combined with personal interviews to
illustrate how Silas Butts is remembered nearly fifty
years after his death. The memories of Silas Butts differ
with each account and thus, provide an illustration of
how time and memory often work together and at times,
against one another.
~
DEDICATION
I dedicate this to my Granddaddy, Ray N. Gambrell,
who began my interest in Silas Butts as a young boy and
has encouraged my schoolwork ever since.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Dr. Grubb for his "down-to-
earth" help that he has provided over the past two years.
The mere "organization" of his office and the talks
therein encouraged me get this thesis finished. I would
also like to thank Dr. Anderson, who unknowingly kept me
from dropping out of the program because of his sincere
enthusiasm and interest. I wish to thank Dr. Smith as
well. She has provided the Appalachian "touch" that I so
needed in my research. I want to express my appreciation
to Dr. Phipps at Appalachian State for encouraging me to
go to graduate school and without whom, the need for a
chapter on Louisa Butts would never have been realized.
I am greatly and sincerely thankful for the people
of Oconee County who were willing to tell their stories.
This thesis would never have been possible without their
generosity. I thank everyone who called over the past two
years and those who sat down and allowed me to interview
them. Jerry Alexander has been extremely helpful in
lending information and I would especially like to thank
Evelyn Walker for her willingness to share her stories.
V
Also, I want to thank my family: Grandmama,
Granddaddy, Papa, Granny, Mama, Daddy (Richard), Nathan
and April. My brother summed it up once when he said, "It
ain't not been done yet."
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
TITLE PAGE i
ABSTRACT ii
DEDICATION iii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS iv
INTRODUCTION 1
PREFACE 8
SILAS NOAH BUTTS 11
— LOUISA RHOLETTER BUTTS 2 9
EDUCATION 41
MOONSHINING 59
ORPHANAGE 7 5
LEGACY 92
CONCLUSION 103
—I
APPENDIX 107
BIBLIOGRAPHY 117
INTRODUCTION
I put an ad' in the local paper seeking information on
Silas Butts. I included my phone number and address. I am
often naive. In search of information about Silas Butts, I
decided to let those who wanted to talk to get in touch
with me. My phone rang for a solid week. From 5:30 in the
morning until well after dark each day, over fifty people
called that week, and they have continued to call these
many months afterwards. Calls came from family, friends,
and seemingly anyone who had ever heard of Silas from South
Carolina, North Carolina, Georgia and even New Mexico.
The very first call came at 12:30 p.m. while I was in
a bookstore and the man simply told me to find someone else
to write my paper about. The mail had obviously just run
because another call came as soon as he had finished,
followed immediately by another. I began scheduling
interviews, as many as four a day. I had hit the thesis
jackpot. I talked with and met all sorts of people, from
the "little ol' blue-haired ladies" in town, to people at
the end of dirt roads as long as the list of directions it
took to get there. Some people hesitated when they met a
2
college student with long hair and a beard whereas others
had their daughters call back and ask me out.
Not being able to answer all the calls at once, many-
left messages while I was talking to others. I
immediately got excited at a message from a man named
"Jim." Jim was not his real name, as he said he would not
tell me his real name. He claimed to have something about
Silas Butts never seen by anyone else. I was excited.
"Jim" left no number but said he would call back at 9:00
p.m. sharp.
At 9:00 that night, I could only be found in the
field beside my house. It was the only place I was sure
to get a signal on my cell phone. I did not want to miss
Jim's call. At 9:00 sharp, my phone rang. The number was
"Restricted." "Jim" agreed to meet me but not at his
house or mine. He suggested that we meet at Silas' farm
up in Brasstown, Tuesday at 2:00. I waited impatiently
until Tuesday.
In the meantime, the owner of the Butts' farm
suggested that we not meet there as the neighbors would
immediately alert the police of trespassers. I was in a
bind. A man with "something about Silas never before
seen" was to meet me at Silas' where we would get
arrested and I had no way of getting in touch with him.
3
Come Tuesday, I drove to Brasstown, parked at the
locked gate to the Butts' farm, got out and sat on the
hood of my jeep and waited for God knows what. At 2:15, a
car drove up, the passenger window rolled down and an old
man with a beard and cane asked me if I was having car
trouble. When I assured him that I was not and that I was
waiting on someone, he casually noted that he would just
get out and look around at the farm. He told his driver
to park the car. After a few minutes of casual and
awkward chit-chat, the man stuck out his hand and quietly
stated, "I'm Jim."
"Jim" proceeded to check me for a gun as he assured
me that he was not gay. I played along. We began to talk
about many things. It seemed that we talked about most
everything except Silas. Somewhere in this conversation,
"Jim" came up with secret code names for us both. I will
not include these names here because, as we agreed, they
are secret. We were to use these names to contact each
other.
I got little out of Jim that day on the side of the
road about Silas. I did learn a lot about cars, welding,
Jim's deteriorating health, as well as where the buck-eye
tree was on down the valley. What he did have to say
about Silas was not flattering. He also informed me that
4
I owed him $2 0. For what, I was not sure. I showed him
the three dollars that I had on me but that did not suit
him. Finally he got around to showing me what he had that
had "never before been seen about Silas." He went back to
the car, where his driver still sat patiently, and came
back with a framed picture. He showed me. It had nothing
to do with Silas. Then he proceeded to take the back off
of the picture where a photograph was hidden. He showed
me this old photograph of Silas and his wife drawing
water from the well. This is what had "never before been
seen." I did not have the heart to tell him that someone
had given me a copy of the same photograph two days
earlier. And with that, Jim said he would be in touch.
I have to admit, the secret games were fun and I
wondered what would happen next. Two days later, while I
was building the bed for my dad's 1917 Model T, my dad
found "Jim" banging on the side of his house with his
cane. I had given the paper my parents' address. I said I
was naive, not stupid.
I looked up, and here came Jim, followed by my dad
with a strange look on his face. Apparently, Jim would
not speak to my dad. I guess this was because he didn't
have a secret code name. After nervous chit-chat, I took
Jim for a walk away from my dad. Jim had decided to sell
5
me his information and the picture for an amount that I
will not mention. I still couldn't tell him that I
already had the picture. I told him that I would have to
think about it. At that, he stopped dead in his tracks
and started heading back to his car, where the same
mysterious driver sat again. On the way, he informed me
that I still owed him $20. I showed him the same three
dollars in my pocket. At that point, "Jim" realized that
he was getting no money from me and I realized that I had
not changed my overalls in three days.
I laughed with many people about the crazy stories
they told about Silas. I almost cried with one woman
though. Most people would not tell details about the
"dark side" of Silas. Evelyn Walker did. She called one
day and asked me if I wanted to know "the good or the
bad." I asked if she would talk on tape and she humbly
accepted. When I arrived, I sat v/ith her and her mother
at the kitchen table. She was cautious but she proceeded
to tell me stories of "the bad," including those of rape
and abuse. Her mother sat quietly at the other end of the
table. In the middle of the interview, I thanked her for
telling me those kind of stories. With that, she offered
me a glass of tea. I accepted. Ms. Walker made good tea.
1 realized that I had gained her trust.
6
I first learned of Silas Butts listening to my own
Granddaddy tell his stories, which are included in the
following pages. What is not included is Grandmama's
story. Grandmama was from London and had never met Silas
but had heard many stories about him. So many that when
she bumped into him downtown one day for the first time,
she knew who he was immediately. Grandmama died before I
sat down and recorded her story. The importance of time
became evident to me as I sat down and interviewed these
older citizens of Oconee County. Ten years ago, this
thesis would have been easier to obtain information for
and the outcome may very well have been different. Ten
years from now, it could probably not be done.
The other problem that many historians face is how
much information is enough? Reluctantly, there are many
people that I did not get to speak with. Many people, I
know, have information but are unwilling to share it.
There comes a time when one has to use just what he has
and make what one can of it.
Silas Butts left a legacy with Oconee County and far
beyond. This is not, however, the history of Silas Butts.
Rather, it is a look at his legacy and how local people
remember him and what he did. Being born twenty four
years after his death, I am not in the position to write
7
a complete history of Silas' life. However, I am in the
position to listen and create a synthesis about how
people remember and retell the ever-present stories about
Silas as well as the community itself.
PREFACE
Silas Noah Butts did something most people never
accomplish. He created "a legacy," to such an extent that
people still talk about him nearly fifty years after his
death. Silas is known for being a mountain man in northern
Oconee County who ran an orphanage, a grist mill and
moonshine. He and his wife, Louisa, never had children of
their own, yet they helped to raise as many as fifty
"orphans." Silas built these children a one-room school on
his farm and used the children to work his large farm in
Brasstown Valley.
Silas is known for his wit and humor which he
displayed during his many trips into nearby towns. He is
known to have been his own lawyer in court, despite his
inability to read or write. There are many characteristics
about this mountain man that, together, helped to create
his legendary status that lingers even to today.
However, not all recollections of Silas describe him
as the humanitarian that he is often remembered as. Some
recall that there was nothing good about the man at all and
that he simply took in children because he needed farm
9
hands. It is interesting, therefore, to take a closer
look at how and why such differing opinions exist all
these years after his death.
It is also interesting to explore the fact that
Silas' wife, Louisa Rholetter Butts, is often forgotten.
In fact, many of those who retell these stories about
Silas, never even knew that he was married. Louisa served
an important role at the remote "orphanage" and why she
is forgotten not only reveals details about her life, but
inadvertently, illustrates how Silas used aspects of his
life to promote his own legacy.
Silas Butts is obviously of local interest but his
legacy also serves a larger purpose. Silas' legacy
represents a transition between the stereotypical
uneducated mountaineer and the progressive, modern world
outside of Appalachia. At a time when railroads and
textile mills were creating towns along the border of
Appalachia, Silas was able to use both worlds to his
advantage. Also, at a time encompassing two World Wars
and the economic hardships in between, Silas most likely
never realized the shift that he has come to represent.
In fact, whether he actually served as this transition or
not is not the point. It is his legacy that, through
hindsight, shows a man who becomes a truck farmer instead
"
10
of a subsistence farmer and the overseer of an
"orphanage" which serves his own needs as well as those
of the community.
SILAS NOAH BUTTS
Silas Noah Butts, the "old man of the mountains," was
born the tenth of thirteen children to Jacob and Mary Butts
in 1880. Born and raised on the farm settled by his
grandfather, Silas would eventually gain control of the
farm and there raise his "adopted" children. Silas'
character and personality help to illustrate why he was
able to create a legacy that has lasted in Oconee County
for nearly fifty years after his death. His humor and
apparent "backwardness" helped to cause his fame but his
underlying progressive ideas have also been part of his
legacy. Silas Butts was, no doubt, an old, funny man who
lived in the mountains. But he also serves as a transition
between isolation, self-sufficiency and ignorance, and the
new modern world outside of Appalachia with jobs and
schools.
Loyal Jones, an Appalachian historian, once described
the characteristics of mountain life in the essay
"Appalachian Values." He described ten general categories
that help people to understand native mountaineers as a
"compendium of the best qualities of the Appalachian
12
people."1 Whereas "Appalachian Values" was not the
initial recognition of these characteristics, the brief
summary of each characteristic provided by Jones allows
for easy comparison, especially with Silas.
So who was this "old man from the mountains" who
kept all these children up in the mountains? Almost
everyone quickly remembers his voice. Johnny Ballenger
and David Pitts, both from Oconee County, stated that
Silas "talked real loud," and "Oh, by me, he hollered all
over the mill hill!"2 James Nix, a mechanic in town, saw
Silas in court once and remarked, "And he talked... He
talked right, real loud-- keen like, you know. You could
hear him, sitting right there, you could hear him. . . you
knowed he was there."3 Silas' voice helped to gain him
recognition, not just v/hen he was around, but among those
who had never met him as well. John Bigham, a journalist
who traveled up from Columbia to find Silas, remarked
that he "wanted to hear his booming voice. His thunderous
speech is one of the things responsible for his fame and
Walhalla folks say that his presence in town is often
1 Loyal Jones, Appalachian Values (Berea: Bcrea College Appalachian Center).
2 David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, personal interview, 13 June 2003.
3 James Nix, personal interview, 13 June 2003.
13
u
advertised by the stentorian tones he employs even in
ordinary conversation."4 It is interesting to note that
when people retell these stories about Silas, everyone
imitates his high pitch, loud voice when they come to
something that Silas would say.
Silas' voice is often remembered and associated with
his involvement with politics. An article that appeared
in 1990 reminisced that, "He took an active role in
politics and with his distinctive voice, would heckle
unmercifully candidates who did not meet his approval."5
An article at his death described this same scenario:
Silas brought the roof down, figuratively
speaking at more than one political speaking. He
once told us he didn't believe in aggravating the
speaker, "but it shore don't hurt to ask him some
questions." It was almost natural to hear his voice
asking some fellow he opposed "how you done this" or
"how come you didn't do that"... and for the
candidate he liked... "You're doin' all right,
boy."6
Bigham learned of Silas' involvement in politics when he
visited him in 1953 and wrote:
Although he has never run for public office, he
is a potent factor in county politics to the extent
4 John Bigham, "Silas Butts: Oconee's Rugged Individualist," The Stale, 23
August 1953.
D Lowell Ross, "A Legend of Brasstown," The Oconee Legend, 24 May 1990.
6 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of Fifty, Passes," Keowee Courier, 29 August
1956.
14
that candidates would rather have him as a friend
than a foe. He talks loud and long, usually saying
what he thinks and allowing the chips to fall where
they may. As a result a lot of chips have fallen in
many places.7
One of the characteristics that Jones describes is
"patriotism." He writes, "We [Appalachian people] have an
abiding interest in politics... we tend to relate
personally to politicians who catch our fancy and appear
trustworthy."8 Silas, particularly, left his impression
at these political stump meetings.
The pitch and volume of Silas' voice were not the
only unique characteristics about his speech, it was
often what he said. Several interviews revealed a byword
that Silas often used. Each account was slightly
different but included "Sha," "Sha' Hell," and "Sha-by-
doe."9 People often included these bywords when quoting
Silas in his high-pitched voice.
Silas is also known for his wit and antics in the
courtroom. Besides his appearances in court for
moonshining, he appeared at the courthouse in Walhalla
7 Bigham.
8 r
Jones.
9
Carlic Butts, A Man Colled Jake (Haverford: Infinity Publishing, 2002); Mack
Lee, personal interview, 11 April 2002; Randolph Phillips, personal interview, 12
June 2003.
15
once after fighting a man named Broadus Hare. Each filed
charges against the other, Butts against Hare in July of
1948 and Hare against Butts in March of 1949. Each time,
the newspapers were sure to note Silas' performance in
the courtroom:
The charges were filed by Silas Butts, Long
Creek farmer and well-known Oconee county man. Mr.
Butts' antics on the stand provided entertainment
and amusement for the courtroom crowded with
spectators.10
The next year, when Silas was on trial, the papers
reported:
Butts, charged with assault and battery against
Nelson Hare, conducted his own case in a hearing
which fairly rocked the courtroom with laughter all
afternoon.11
Others present still remember Silas' appearance and
performance in the courtroom on those days. David Pitts
was there one of those days and explained:
They was trying him for Assault and Battery
with Aggravated Nature and Intent to Kill. And after
they presented all the evidence and the witnesses
testified... He [the judge] asked him [Silas] if he
wanted to say anything. "Yes sir. I want to show you
what that man done to me. He was trying to kill me
instead..." He got down in [sic] the floor and
rolled and tumbled and he said, "That man was bear-
hugging me and trying to kill me. I wasn't trying to
0 "Court Opens Busy Session Here Tuesday," Keowee Courier, 8 July 1948.
11 "Special Court," Keowee Courier, 10 March 1949.
16
kill him. He was the one that was trying to kill
somebody." That court just hollered.12
James Nix was also in the courtroom during one of Silas'
court appearances and remembers:
Yeah, back in 19 and 49, I was in court on two
murder cases and Silas had a case in court that same
week. And what it was, was this... They had got in a
fight sometime and this boy went into the service.
And before they picked him up, the boy shipped out
and went over seas. Well, after he come back, after
he served his time over there and come back home,
they picked him up you know because Silas had this
warrant against him. I think assault and battery,
attempt to kill, or whatever. Anyway, they got in
the court and they was questioning him and he said
the boy hit him in the head with an ax. So he had to
show them that the... Got down and pulled his hair
back and said, "You see there!" I don't even
remember what they... What they ever did with the
boy, whether they him time or what but you know I
just happened to be there when all this motion went
on.13
More than fifty years have passed since those two court
cases but people still recall Silas' appearances in
court.
Silas' choosing to represent himself in court has
definitely been one of his greatest claims to fame. It is
almost always noted in articles about him, even in those
that appeared before his death. John Bigham described,
"On occasions Mr. Butts has had differences of opinion
12 David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
13 James Nix, 13 June 2003.
17
with the law as represented by Oconee County. Scorning
the services of an attorney at such times, Silas
brilliantly argues his case with varying degrees of
success."14 At Silas' death, one obituary remembered the
time(s) when Silas acted as his own lawyer:
Many recall one instance several years back
where Silas was both a defendant and a plaintiff in
one day. It seems some fellow in Westminster grew
angry and whacked him on the head one day... and
Silas, not one to back away, put in a few whacks
himself. When court time arrived, both had sworn out
warrants for the other.
The other fellow was tried first with Silas
taking the stand as the star witness. He was found
guilty and then it was Silas' turn. He served as his
own attorney, and so swayed the jury with his
homemade legal terms that he came clear with jury
hardly having to retire. His short stint in the
attorney's role was perhaps his most memorable
moment. He referred to it many times afterward...
while grinning practically from ear to ear.15
Interestingly, the story at his death combined the two
court sessions, did not mention the "other" fellow's
name, and reported that Silas got off clean. This method
of "remembering" is an example of why Silas is remembered
so many years after his death.
Another characteristic of Appalachian people
explained by Jones is "Individualism, Self Reliance and
4 Bigham.
15 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
18
Pride." Silas' acting as his own lawyer fits this
description. Jones writes, "the person who could not look
after himself and his family was to be pitied." Jones
tells the story of one old lady back in some hollow who
became snowed in for weeks and the Red Cross volunteers
finally got to her house to offer their assistance. When
she learned that they were from the Red Cross she
replied, "'Well, I don't believe I'm going to be able to
help you'ns any this year. It's been a right hard
winter.'"16 Obviously, mountain people, including Silas,
figured that they could take care of themselves.
One interesting characteristic about Silas is his
dual personality between the "backwards," old,
traditional mountain man and a very modern man for his
time. Traditionalism is one characteristic often
associated with the "mountaineer." One historian, Jack
Weller, explains this in an essay entitled, "Introducing
the Mountaineer." He explains that the mountaineer is
"bound to the past in an amazing way... Mountain life, as
it has continued in its more or less static way, has
preserved the old traditions and ideas, even encouraged
16 Jones.
19
them."17 Weller uses two sets of words to set the
mountaineer apart from the rest of American culture:
progressive versus regressive, and "existence oriented"
versus "improvement oriented." Silas is often termed "the
old man of the mountains" and yet, he represents the
progressive and improvement aspects of American culture
as well.
First of all, there is no doubt that Silas
represents the romanticized view of a mountaineer. Silas
was a moonshiner who could not read or write, living on
land at the edge of Appalachia settled by his
grandfather. His mountain, "backward" ways are often
remembered in stories. For instance, one story that is
often told about Silas that illustrates his humor as well
as his isolation is best recalled by Dot Jackson, a local
journalist and author, in an article in the Charlotte
Observer:
You know he used to take his boys and go down
into Anderson selling produce. Well, he had never
seen a traffic light. And they put some up in
Anderson, and one day he came to town and he ran
one.
Well, a cop came after him and said, "say-- you
just ran a red light." And Silas said, "Boys, lets
get out and see what this man's a-talking about." So
17 Jack Weller, "Introducing the Mountaineer," Appalachia: Its People, Heritage
and Problems, ed. Frank S. Riddel (Dubuque: Kendall/Hunt Publishing Company,
1974), 43.44.
20
they looked under the car and all around, and
finally Silas says, "We've not run over any light as
I can see." And the cop says, "Oh, go on back up
yonder where you come from." And let 'em go.18
Whether or not this is true and, whether or not Silas was
playing dumb, is beside the point because this is how
Silas is often remembered.
Silas' traditional values are also characterized in
a civil court dispute over property lines. A typed
statement, crudely signed by "S. N. Butts" reads:
I am the defendant in this action. I have
promised to buy the land described in the complaint
for $450.00 net to the plaintiffs. That is all or
more than the place is worth. It is my father's and
grand-father's old home place, and that is one
reason that I am willing to pay that sum for it. It
is [sic] was not for that I would not give that much
for the place.19
Jones claims this to be another of "the best qualities of
the Appalachian people" in what he calls "Love of Place."
He writes, "It is one of the unifying values of mountain
people, this attachment to one's place, and it is a great
problem to those who urge mountaineers to find their
destiny outside the mountains."20 Silas obviously
18 Dot Jackson, "Orphanage Ran on Corn," The Charlotte Observer, 16 October
1974.
19 Mary T. Butts, et al. vs. Silas N. Butts, 1939.
20 Jones.
21
maintained a connection with the land as well as his
traditional views associated with the family "home
place."
Silas was also noted for certain abilities in
medicine, or as a healer. When John Bigham visited Louisa
at the Butts' farm, he found Louisa "discussing among
other things whether Mrs. Chastain, a boarder with the
family, should visit the faith preacher and be healed of
her rheumatism or risk it being "rubbed away" by Silas
who possesses some reputation in the countryside as a man
of medicine."2' Clem Smith remembers that, "He knew how to
stop blood, draw fire and different things, cure the
thrash on the baby and everything."22 Silas seemed to
represent all that was characteristic of a "mountain
man. "
However, Silas was not all tradition, nor does he
fit all the stereotypes that Weller and Jones describe.
Silas supposedly had the second tractor in the area.23 In
fact, one article described him as "no old-fashioned
farmer in spite of his lingo and constant guffawing over
21 Bigham.
22 Clem Smith, personal interview, 25 February 2003.
22
'these new-fangled notions.' He never allowed a mule or
horse where a tractor would go."24 Reporter, John Bigham,
picked up on Silas' modern twist in one of the pictures
he took on his visit to Brasstown Valley. The captions
read, "Note modern farm tractor. Silas once had a TV set
but it kept the boys from their chores so he returned it
to the dealer."21' A posthumous article reveals this same
notion that:
Silas believed in the modern way of doing
things and this attitude was evident in the
bountiful crops grown on the Butts' farm. In fact,
Silas was among the first few farmers in upper
Oconee to raise beef cattle on a sizable scale.26
These characteristics, along with Silas' short career in
town working in the mill (as will be seen), and the
schoolhouse that he built for his orphan children,
portrays Silas as a progressive man instead of a man
opposed to change.
Silas' demeanor is another characteristic that is
often remembered in many different ways. Usually, he is
described as a kind and generous man. Obviously, people
24 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
25 Bigham.
26 Jerry Alexander, "Silas Butts Remembered as 'Old Man of the Mountains',"
The Anderson Independent, 27 February 1968.
23
recall his generosity in taking in all the mountain
children who needed a home, but, this is not the only
generosity exemplified by Silas. Randolph Phillips,
Silas' nephew, recalls, "He helped a lot of people. My
wife's mother, they brought them food one time when they
were about to starve to death, Silas did."27 This reflects
yet another of Jones' characteristics: "Neighborliness
and Hospitality." He explains that mountain people are
"hospitable, quick to invite to you in and generous with
the food." In essence, this is remembered of Silas in a
very broad sense due to his hospitality portrayed by
"taking in" the orphans.
Also, an obituary noted, "of how he often helped
people out financially, even paying bond to get the
errant out of jail."28 Another recalled this same generous
aspect, "if he thought there was merit to some defendant
now and then, he wouldn't hesitate to post bond for
him."29 It appears that Silas did just that for Calvin
Blackwell, charged with Housebreaking, Larceny, etc.
11 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
28 "Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday," Seneca
Journal and Tugalo Tribune, 29 August 1956.
29 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
24
Blackwell, however, did not show for court when his time
came, and Silas was summoned to court. Blackwell had
since been sentenced to seventeen years in jail in
Georgia for another crime.30 No matter the case, Silas did
post bond for Blackwell and this was remembered of Silas
for years to come.
One characteristic that Jones describes, "Modesty,"
is difficult to attach to Silas. A neighbor to Silas
remembers, "If he [Silas] didn't like you, he'd tell you
right quick."31 Jones claims that "there is little
competition among mountaineers, except in... who has the
best dog." The latter part, at least, seems to be true of
Silas. A nephew to Silas told a story about a bear hunt
in which everyone's smokehouse in the area had been
broken into. So, the men of the community got together
with all of their dogs.
01' Silas said that bear whipped all them dogs.
Said that his dog, said that "If they'd a-just let
my dog in there," said that "we wouldn't of had to
went no further than... My dog would have killed it,
and dressed it and had it gutted and sliced up
and... waiting on them when we got there."32
30 The State vs. S.N. Butts, 1952.
31 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
32 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
25
Silas does not seem to be the type to withhold his
thoughts on anyone or anything.
Describing Silas Butts is not complete without
mentioning his humor. Most of the stories that remain
about him recount some amusing aspect of his personality.
Johnny Ballenger remembers:
Well they had waited about a day before
Halloween and they had a little girl, Carol, and
they hadn't bought her a pumpkin to make a jack-o-
lantern. All the pumpkins was sold. And she said,
"Well, let's go up to Silas'. If anybody's got one,
Silas has got a pumpkin." It was on Sunday and she
had come home and we all got in the car. She was
still dressed like she went to church. Drove up
there in the yard, Silas and his wife, three or four
kids sitting on the front porch. She got out, Jerry
did, and had on high heel shoes, walked about like
from here to that tree out there going toward...
Silas raised up, looked, and said, "Lord God woman,
them shoes killing your feet?" He didn't speak, "How
yall doing?," "I'm Silas Butts." Them high heeled
shoes is what bothered him.33
Almost all casual encounters with Silas left people
laughing about it for years.
One well-known humorous incident concerning Silas
was when word got out that he had drowned. John Bigham
picked up on this story on his visit to the mountains to
find Silas and wrote:
There was the time when the radio reported that
Silas had fallen in his millpond and drowned. Great
David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
26
gloom fell upon the county and a truckload of
flowers, a tribute from people in all walks of
Oconee life, headed for the home in the hills. Silas
had to literally live down the false report and
later informed Enos Abott that "Don't you think I
would have been the first one to know about it if I
had been drowned?"34
As with many other stories, these illustrate the humor
that is almost always present when stories are told of
Silas Butts and helps to fuel his legacy.
Jones describes "Sense of Humor" as the
characteristic that "has sustained us [mountain people]."
He writes:
Sometimes the humor reflects hard times, like
when a woman went to the governor to ask him to
pardon her husband who was in the penitentiary.
"What's he in for?" The Governor asked. "For
stealing a ham." "Is he a good man?" "No, he's a
mean man." "Is he a hard worker?" "No, he won't
hardly work at all." "Well, why would you want a man
like that pardoned?" "Well, Governor, we're out of
ham."35
In many ways, the times were hard during Silas' life. His
"hay day" involved two World Wars and the Great
Depression, not to mention the poverty often associated
with rural Appalachia. As Jones suggests though, it was
humor that helped to sustain mountain people like Silas.
Bigham.
Jones.
27
According to Jones, "one must understand the
religion of mountaineers before he can begin to
understand mountaineers."36 Not much is known about Silas'
religious thoughts or practices. His neighbor, Clem
Smith, told:
And they's one thing about Silas, he carried
them kids to church. He had a Ford pickup and he'd
take, five, six, seven of them. One night, they's
having a meeting up there and he drove plumb back
down to Brasstown and left one of them laying on a
bank asleep... They'd join every church they'd go
to.37
Silas is buried at Damascus Baptist Church with his
wife's family (Rholetter) instead of at the Butts family
graveyard. Before he built his own school, the children
attended school at the nearby Brasstown Church. If Jones
is correct, then a certain understanding of Silas cannot
be obtained due to the scarcity in information about his
religious beliefs.38
Silas Butts was no ordinary man. Few people have
left such an impression on people as to cause them to
36 Ibid.
37 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
One interview did reveal a certain amount of information about Silas and
religion but at the interviewee's request, the information is not included here. The
insistence to exclude the information does reveal the seriousness associated,
especially amongst the older generations of Oconee County, with personal religion.
28
recall stories of them time and time again. Silas had
many traits that, when combined, created this impression.
He was traditional in some respects, though in many ways,
a very modern man. With a man such as Silas, legends
often play an important role in how someone is
remembered.
LOUISA RHOLETTER BUTTS
Louisa (pronounced Loo-eye-za) Rholetter married Silas
Noah Butts in 1905. However, many of the people who know
stories of Silas today do not know her name, can not
remember it or never even knew that Silas was married.
Louisa, however, served as the maternal role in their large
adopted family, and as such, had a daunting task. Louisa,
when remembered, does not carry the complex legacy that
Silas' name holds. But, with what is remembered about
Louisa, it is clear that without her, Silas would not have
been the man he was, much less the man he is remembered or
misremembered to be.
Louisa's role at the mountain orphanage was complex
and vital. The first thought that comes to mind is the food
preparation that took place in a household of up to twenty
five people. Several people recall certain details of the
cooking that went on in the house. Randolph Phillips, their
nephew, remembers:
I can remember them a-cooking, and they cooked
beans in a big ol' pot: a big ol' wash pot on the
outside, especially in the summer time. I guess,
because it would heat the house up or what not. You
could smell those beans a-cooking. But I remember,
they had a big stove in the house and he had a great
big ol' long table. I think it was more or less boards
put up. They had a fireplace at the end of the kitchen
30
and they done a lot of cooking on that fireplace-
just about most of it, I guess, except for the
winter time. They'd crank that ol' stove up in the
winter time, but they was so many kids, they
probably cooked on both ends, you know. The best I
can remember, I've eat in that kitchen many a-time
because daddy would go there and get liquor because
Silas made and sold liquor.39
Even with all the orphans to feed, a family as large as
the Butts', as well as visitors, would probably account
for extras at the table. Clem Smith vividly remembered
eating with the Butts family as well, along with the
cases of cornbread as big as a small table top.40 Years
later, a nephew to Silas recalled:
Silas killed half-a-dozen hogs at a time and
the kitchen table of the Butts' home measured about
14 feet long. Cornbread was cooked in pans measuring
a foot across and three inches deep. Four or five
cows supplied the huge family with butter and milk.
There was always plenty of food on the Butts' large
"eating table.""1
It is easy to imagine the amount of food that was
required to feed all of these people. It is not so easy
to imagine, though, the amount of work required to be
that self-sufficient for such a large number of people.
Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
1 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
Alexander.
31
Many people who remember the food preparation at the
Butts' farm tend to remember these events near the end of
Mrs. Butts' life. Louisa would then not have been the
only cook for the "family." Barbara Haynes recalls that
Pearle Sheppard would "cook the meal, but him [Silas] and
his wife [Louisa] sat down and ' et first, and when they
' et, then all them kids came in and ' et."42 Evelyn Walker
remembers their help as well. "She always had two or
three women in the kitchen preparing the meal for
everybody. And they fixed the meals after she told them
what to fix," she recalled.43 All of these recollections
come nearly fifty years after Silas and Louisa's death.
Therefore, the people who still remember these instances
are few, and naturally what they remember is when Silas
and Louisa were old. And as Clem Smith pointed out, "She
[Louisa] was a good cook before she got crippled up."44
Louisa's health hindered her from her kitchen duties in
her older age. However, as Evelyn Walker pointed out,
Louisa would still be in control of what was going on in
her kitchen.
42 Barbara Haynes, personal interview, 19 April 2002.
43 Evelyn Walker, personal interview, 13 June 2003.
44 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
32
Louisa's work went far beyond the kitchen, though.
Claude Gaillard recalls that "she would take the boys and
take them out to the field and work them. She would.
Silas didn't do it. In other words, he was either selling
whiskey, or making it."'15 When Evelyn Walker was
questioned about this, she replied that "He [Silas]
didn't do nothing."46 Louisa's position as a woman,
responsible for many children in a remote Appalachian
setting, may have required that she be in the fields with
the children anyway, but the absence of Silas in these
fields illustrates her extraordinary burden. This seems
to be another factor that Silas used to his advantage and
yet Silas is given more credit in bringing up all those
"orphan" children than his wife.
When John Bigham traveled from Columbia, South
Carolina, to Brasstown to find Silas, he found Louisa as
well. Bigham came because he had heard of Silas, not
Louisa. His article in The State, however, speaks of
Louisa in abundance. When Bigham arrived at the Butts'
farm, Silas was not at home, which gave Bigham the
opportunity to visit with Louisa. Bigham described her as
45 Claude Gaillard, personal interview, 21 February 2003.
46 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
33
"a keen person of an intelligent nature and our visit
interrupted some letter writing activity which she had
been accomplishing without glasses although she is
approaching 70 years of age." Further into his article,
he acknowledged that "Luisa [sic] would not consent to
pose [for a picture] until arrayed in her best dress and
this was a signal for the boys to vanish indoors and
emerge later with clean overalls on and hair slicked down
to the scalps."47 This rare glance at Silas' wife reveals
several interesting characteristics. First of all, unlike
Silas, Louisa could obviously read and write. Her ability
to do so is attested to in her neat and delicate
handwriting that appears in court documents. Also,
Bigham's article indicates that Louisa was a lady of
pride and manners. Despite her ruffian husband and remote
location, she felt it necessary to wear her best for the
picture. One step further reveals that the children's
notion of doing the same is reflective of her influence
on their behavior and her role in their lives. As Evelyn
Walker put it, "She [Louisa] went about the house looking
after the kids, made sure they had clean clothes on, a
bath, and that... That was just like her own kids to her
Bigham.
34
you know, 'cause she didn't have none."48 One can only
wonder, though, if Silas had been home that day, how much
would Bigham have written in his article about her?
As mentioned above, Louisa is remembered to have
been crippled, at least to some degree in her older age.
Several people recall that, "Louisa was kind of
crippled... She had something wrong with her legs. She
limped when she walked,""19 and "She didn't never work too
much, she's old when we lived down there. She got out and
done what she could."50 Clem Smith attributed this to the
fact that she "fell and broke her hip. She couldn't do
much."51 It is unclear at what point she became crippled,
but she did live until 1958, when she was 75 years of
age.
Louisa's maternal role in the hills of Oconee
County, despite her unique situation in a make-shift
orphanage, must not have been too unlike other women in
the region. In the study, All We Knew Was to Farm: Rural
Women in the Upcountry South, 1919-1941, Melissa Walker
48 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
49 David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
50 Barbara Haynes, 19 April 2003.
51 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
3
looks into many characteristics that would have
influenced Louisa's life. One example of the difficulties
of their lives came from the shift many families
experienced from subsistence farming to a participation
in a market economy. Due to this shift, Walker notes that
"While men were responsible for field work and large-
scale livestock production for the market, women managed
most of the farm's subsistence activities." She goes on
to explain that in the upcountry South, "Men rarely
assisted with tasks more clearly labeled 'women's work,'
such as laundry and cooking, but farm women often
assisted their husbands with field work, reflecting the
high priority that commercial agricultural activities
received."52 Louisa must therefore have been crucial to
the maintenance of her home and "family."
This shift from subsistence agriculture to market
participation is evident in the Butts' lives in the
number of recollections that remain in Oconee County
about Silas' truck farming. Further evidence of this
shift is seen in one specific court record, Piedmont
Motor Company vs. S.N. Butts. It appears that Silas
"' Melissa Walker, All We Knew Was to Farm: Rural Women in the Upcountry
South, 1919-1941 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 22-23.
36
appeared in court in 1926 due to the fact that he had not
fully paid for a car he purchased in 1924. The total
amount for the car was $321.20 The amount owed was
$35.60.53 Melissa Walker notes that, "the drastic fall in
farm prices after World War I ravaged the upcountry
South's small farmers."54 However, twenty years later,
Silas supposedly purchased $10,000 worth of War Bonds and
at his death, his Probate Records show he still owned
$5,000 in Government Bonds. Obviously, the Butts'
financial stability improved over the years. This shift
probably paralleled the shift from subsistence to market
agriculture. There is no doubt that between liquor and
produce sales, fueling as well as fueled by, a large
family helped the finances of the Buttses.
Melissa Walker goes on to explain the importance of
women's roles, such as Louisa's, saying, "Women were
primarily responsible for the complex, reciprocal support
that had formed the basis for rural 'social services' for
generations."55 Louisa seems to fit this description. With
Piedmont Motor Company vs. S. N. Butts, 1926.
Melissa Walker, 35.
Ibid., 34.
37
land to farm, Louisa's "responsibility" in the community
seems to have created her maternal role in her "family."
Another technique used by women like Louisa during
the inter-war years was the creation of boarding houses.
Whereas the Butts' farm was not a direct profit-making
"boarding house," the idea that the family had to do
something to survive is similar. Melissa Walker provides
several examples of families who created "low-capital"
boarding houses and even "grew truck crops." She provides
a fitting analysis when she writes:
Not only was rural industrialization producing
a mixed economy that provided new off-farm jobs for
both men and women, but the collapse of the
agricultural economy and government interventions to
aid victims of that collapse were restructuring the
region's agricultural system, pushing subsistence
farmers into commercial agriculture or off the
land.56
In this inter-war period with a changing economy, taking
in children fulfilled the needs of others as well as the
needs of Silas and Louisa.
What little is remembered about Louisa is often
quite the opposite of what is remembered about Silas'
personality. When Barbara Haynes, who lived in one of
Silas' tenant houses, was asked about Louisa, she
Ibid., 70.
38
replied, "You know, I don't know anything about that
lady. I just knowed she was an old lady. But she was
sweet as she could be."57 Evelyn Walker, who had nothing
good to say about Silas, recalled that Louisa Butts "was
a good woman. Never done anything wrong."58 Randolph
Phillips remembers her in Silas' shadow, much in the same
way, saying, "When I was around, she had very little to
say and I didn't really ever hear her say anything... She
was old timey."51' However, John Bigham, reported that
Louisa "turned out to be a good talker."60 This does not
seem to match other descriptions of her. This could be
for several reasons though. Was it because Silas was not
home that day and she felt more at liberty to talk? Were
the other people's descriptions of Louisa quietness just
because they were children at the time? Was Louisa being
her mannerly self with the reporter, as he also
described? In any case, these descriptions describe the
woman who was married to Silas Butts for fifty one years,
yet they also describe a lady who seems to have been the
57 Barbara Haynes, 19 April 2002.
58 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
59 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
60 Bigham.
39
opposite of Mr. Butts, and is therefore, not as
remembered.
Louisa Rholetter Butts lived less than two years
after Silas died. In the Keowee Courier, her obituary was
headlined, "Mrs. Silas Butts Taken By Death" and she was
described as "a well known matron of the Long Creek
community."61 It goes on to briefly mention the fact that
she and Silas raised many children during their marriage.
The obituary, however, is nowhere near the length of
Silas' at his death, nor is it on the front page, as were
many of Silas'.
One power that Louisa would have been able to use,
to a certain extent, against Silas, was brought up by
Evelyn Walker. In her own words, she states, "But what he
[Silas] done, was use the kids... the girls, a different
one every night. And his wife caught him and they never
had no children. She wouldn't sleep with him... She
wouldn't do it."62 This places Louisa as a victim in her
home, with very little control over the situation.
Louisa Butts obviously played an important role in
the Butts' adopted family. Her duties seemed to span from
61 "Mrs. Silas Butts Taken By Death," Keowee Courier, 15 January 1958.
62 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
40
the kitchen, to the field, to entertaining unexpected
guests. Whether or not this is cause for her to stand out
from other women at that time is not the point. What can
be gained from this is the fact that during her life, and
ever since, she has remained in Silas' shadow, so much so
that she is most often forgotten. Louisa seems to be
another variable in Silas' life that, all together, gave
him the opportunity to create a lasting impression on the
Upstate of South Carolina and beyond, whether he is "mis-
remembered" or not. However, with so little information
about Louisa, who is to say that she too is not
misremembered?
r
f
9
i
~
EDUCATION
Silas Noah Butts, a mountain man who could neither
read nor write, somehow saw the need to educate the
children who lived with him at his farm. What made him
realize the importance of education? If the sole reason
for his taking in all of the children who lived with him
was working his farm in the Brasstown Valley, why would
he insist that they obtain an education? His reasons for
providing for their education may never be completely
understood but a closer look at his school provides some
help.
A recent pictorial history, Images of America:
Oconee County (1998), places Silas Butts on the pages
following Thomas Green Clemson in a section entitled
"Education and Institutions." The caption to his picture
even reads, "Like Mr. Clemson, Silas Butts offered land
and money in an effort to promote education among the
hill people of the county."6"1 Comparing Silas' one-room
school to Clemson College may seem exaggerated but
63 Piper Peters Aheron, /mages of America: Oconee County (Charleston: Arcadia
Publishing, 1998), 63.
42
clearly illustrates that Silas has been seen as a
humanitarian who worked for the good of the people.
Spec Jameson, a former member of the Civilian
Conservation Corps in Oconee County, remembers seeing
Silas at the tax office once and recalls, ' I never seen
so many tracks of land. He signed the line and all he was
doing was putting an 'X' on it. He looked up at me, and
he says, VI can't write,' but said, *I trust this man
here, he's a good fellow.'"64 Later, obviously, Silas
learned to crudely write his name as "S. N. Butt" in
cursive writing since many court records have his
signature on them. Someone obviously taught this to
Silas. This shift illustrates that, for some reason,
Silas realized the importance of writing, at least in
learning to write his own name.
Tom Smith, who lived with Silas for only two months,
remembers that Silas Butts was insistent on two things:
working the kids and making sure that they went to
school.65 While, this does not help in discerning Silas'
priorities between the two, it does suggest that the
orphan children were not there merely to work for him.
Spec Jameson, personal interview, 12 June 2003.
Tom Smith, personal interview, 30 July 2003.
43
Barbara Haynes, who lived with her family in one of
Silas' tenant houses in the valley, also went to Silas'
school which indicates that the school served more than
just Silas' personal needs and those of his children.66
Mary Arve taught thirteen of Silas' children in a
school of forty three children sometime between 1937 and
1938. This was at Brasstown Church, which also served as
a school at that time. During the one year she taught
there, she remembers, in her own words:
[I] looked out into that crowd of children: -
two sets of twins, in the first grade -two boys that
were 16 and 17 years old, barefooted and in the
first grade. They were Silas Butts' adopted
children. I had 13 of his adopted children in that
43. And one morning, the water bucket just kept
getting empty. It was a tin bucket, with a tin
dipper in it. And I went back to the little girl
that was sitting on the back bench, and asked her,
"Nancy, what's going with the water?" And she said,
"You better go to the spring and see." Well, I still
didn't know what she was talking about, so I
declared a recess and we all went down the path to
the spring. And I looked over into the spring and
there sat a half a gallon fruit jar, half full of
whiskey. So, I poured it out in the road- in the
path and we went back to the little one room school.
And I couldn't get those big boys quieted down
because they had been to the spring. And so I
expelled them- thirteen of them, and carried them to
the door and sent them on down the road and told
them to go home.67
Barbara Haynes, 19 April 2002.
Mary Arvc, interview by Betty Plisco, 4 August 1992.
44
If it was Silas' insistence that made them go to school,
apparently and ironically, it was his liquor and
moonshining profession that prevented them from going
that day forward to Brasstown School. Later that same
afternoon, after Silas found out what Mary Arve had done,
he drove by, looking for the teacher on his way down to
town. She recalled:
He was going to Walhalla to get that ol'
teacher fired. So, he went up, and the
Superintendent of Education was a friend of mine,
and he said, "I'll tell you what. You say you've got
thirteen adopted children?" He [Silas] said, "Yeah,
I got more than that but I got thirteen in school."
And the superintendent told him that, "If you'll go
back home, and saw you some lumber, and build you a
schoolhouse, we'll furnish you a teacher." And so he
went back home, sawed up the timbers, built the
schoolhouse and its still standing up there- Silas
Butts' schoolhouse.68
Silas' anger over what Mary Arve had done also
illustrates his interesting devotion to the education of
his "adopted" children.
One of his lengthy obituaries recalled that, "In the
days prior to the present school laws, Silas realized the
value of reading, writing and 'rithmetic... Built a
school for his 'chillun' and the county furnished a
68 Ibid.
45
~
r
-
teacher. Silas served as the trustee, taking some of the
time off being a progressive farmer, livestock grower,
and truck farmer. "6:I This obituary presents the widely
held view that Silas was an active and avid supporter of
the children's education.
But this still does not explain the juxtaposition
between Silas, who could not read and write, and the need
he saw for education. One obituary explains that "as a
young man, he worked in the Oconee mill in Westminster,
where both he and his wife, Louisa Rholetter Butts, were
weavers."70 Another article, many years later, quoted a
nephew as remembering, "lAs a young man Silas and his
wife worked at Equinox mill in Anderson but Silas was
just not cut out to be a mill man."71 Also, Jake and Cleo
Gambrell recall that Cleo's father, Rev. King, taught
Silas to weave when he came to work in the mill. Every
time Silas saw Rev. King after that he would shout, "%Hey
King, you the fellow that taught me how to weave
checks!'"72 Perhaps, Silas' experiences living in town
69 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
70 ,
71
'Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday."
Jerry Alexander.
72 Jake and Cleo Gambrell, personal interview, 13 June 2003.
46
before he took control of the family farm caused him to
see the importance of education. Silas never forgot who
had taught him to do his job in town. He gained control
of the Butts Farm in Brasstown when his older brother,
Jim, moved his family into the Walhalla mill village in
1915 where Jim operated the Walhalla Cotton Mill
Elevators.7' Silas was therefore well aware of the world
outside of his home nestled down in Brasstown Valley in
the mountains, and perhaps this is what caused him to
realize the importance of formal education.
That is not to say that Silas Butts was not smart.
He may not have been able to read or write, but he
certainly had intelligence and understood things. Many
newspapers, before and after his death, were quick to
point out his knowledge despite his lack of formal
education. In 1990, in an article published in a campaign
newsletter for local elections, Silas was described this
way: "Although Silas could neither read nor write, he
demonstrated beyond a doubt that he was bright."74 In
1953, three years before his death, The State newspaper
Aheron, 62.
Ross.
47
featured him in the magazine section. The article
introduces Silas as,
No statesman or politician is the bewildered
Mr. Butts, nor is he in the ranks of education and
religion. In fact, Silas can neither read nor write
and in his 72 years of life in the hills he has
exposed his own mental faculties to little or no
book learning. Yet the man on the street in Seneca,
Walhalla, or Westminster will inform you that this
rugged man from the hills packs more brains and
native common sense in his frosted cranium than 99
percent of the surrounding populace and that
includes preachers, teachers, and business men.75
It seems, therefore, that despite Silas' lack of formal
schooling, it was widely believed that he was a smart
man.
The historian Richard Drake points out that,
the Appalachian region has strong anti-
intellectual tradition... Yet it is true that the
folkish, yeomanesque Appalachian often found little
of value in the 'book learning' of the school, since
what was emphasized at school had relatively little
applicability to his real needs.76
Silas, a smart man himself, had seen and experienced the
coming of the mills, been to town, and been to court. He
saw and appreciated the value of this "book learning."
Even today people remember Silas for his common
sense notwithstanding his scant education. Clem Smith, a
/:> Bigham.
Richard Drake, A History of Appaluchia (Lexington: University of Kentucky
Press, 2001), 227.
48
neighbor and friend, remembers that "Silas was smart. He
wasn't no man's fool." When asked if Silas could read or
write, Mr. Smith responded with, "God no! He didn't know
where he was at. But I'll tell you one thing, you
couldn't beat him out of a penny. He know'd what it was
all about." People often comment that Silas' crazy
notions were the way in which he won people over.
"Everybody thought Silas was crazy, but he was a smart
man."7 The Butts family history indicated that "his wit
and mountain ways often disturbed the most educated," and
that Silas was "uneducated according to modern standards,
but his wit and humor as a mountain man made up for this
lack of schooling."78 An article in the Charlotte Observer
nearly twenty years after his death described him much as
Mr. Smith had done, as "nobody's fool... Not many folks
with strings of degrees could run an orphanage-- of sorts
--on produce and moonshine whiskey."79 Humor always plays
into Silas public appearances as will be seen in his
court "escapades."
" Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
-JQ
Carlie Butts, Butts Generations, (Owensboro: Cook-McDowell Publications,
1981), 822-823.
Jackson.
49
It seems that there were at least two teachers over
the years at Silas' school: Mater Watkins and Laura
Thrift. There are differing accounts as to how Silas paid
a teacher and where she lived. Many say that the county
provided a teacher whereas others say that Silas paid her
out of his own pocket. Personal memories also differ as
to whether she lived with Silas or boarded elsewhere.
Gladys Elliott, who knew Mater Watkins, remembers,
though, that, "Miss Mater Watkins was the teacher and she
felt like it was a mission. Even though he paid her a
small salary, she worked for that small salary because
she wanted to help the children to learn."80 Watkins, who
lived down in Westminster, felt the need to help the
children up in the mountains. Others like Watkins,
especially in town, would see Silas' efforts to educate
as humanitarian, helping to justify his "orphanage" and
his use of the kids on the farm.
In terms of formal education, the need can be seen
in Mary Arve's recollections of the year she taught at
Brasstown school. The two boys mentioned above as being
16 and 17, barefooted, and in the first grade, also could
not read at the time. Mary Arve remembered sitting on the
Gladys Elliott, personal interview, 17 June 2003.
50
bench between them and making them take turns, back and
forth, at trying to read.81 This is not to say that these
boys were ignorant, just that in the eyes of organized
schools, they seemed to need an education. Somehow, Silas
saw this need as well.
As with a great deal of the legacy that Silas Butts
left in Oconee County, humor played a role in the
children's education. Mary Arve decided that she would
teach the children Literary Society on Friday afternoons
and give them a lesson in public speaking. Friday
afternoon came around and it was time for one of the same
first-grade, barefooted boys to give his speech. "He
walked up to the front of the room: flop, flop, flop,
flop, flop and turned around and said, XI chew my
tobacco, I spit my juice, I go to school, but it ain't no
use!' Flop, flop, flop, flop and he went back and sat
down."82 Where there is talk of anything related to Silas
Butts, there is often humor.
Appalachian historian, David Whistnant, writes of
the Hindman Settlement School in Kentucky in his book All
That is Native and Fine. At one point in the school's
Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
51
history, an old mountain man, strikingly similar to Silas
in physical features, walked twenty-two miles to "implore
the 'quare women' to start a school for his 'grands and
greats.' His reasons, he explained, were:
"When I was jest a chunk of a boy... And hoeing
corn on the steep mountainside, I'd look up... And
down... And wonder if anybody'd ever come in and
larn us anything. But nobody ever come in, and
nobody ever went out, and we jest growed up and
never knowed nothin'. I never had a chanst to larn
anything myself, but I got chillern and
grandchillern just as bright as other folkses', and
I want 'em to have a chanst."83
This man, Uncle Sol, was used as an icon for the school
following his journey to see the ladies. Uncle Sol
represented an internal realization among people in the
mountains of the need for formal education. Like Uncle
Sol, Silas too must have felt the need for this "chanst
to larn."
Whistnant goes on to explore the relationship that
was created between the Hindman School and Uncle Sol and
his popularity. Sol is described as "at once a
recognizable cultural archetype and stereotype... A
regional and national patriarch... An idealistic and
progressive hillbilly, barefoot and ignorant himself, of
'3 David Whistnant, All That is Native and Fine (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 1983), 81 -82.
52
course, but properly ambitious for his multigenerational
progeny." This sounds not too unlike Mr. Butts and his
view of what he did for his "orphans." Uncle Sol
understood the need for formal education "not as a result
of painstaking historical, economic, social or cultural
analysis but in the midst of one's essential innocence,
guided and transformed by a miraculous vision."84 Whether
this is true or not of Silas, it is what he is often
remembered for, that same internal realization that his
poor, orphan, mountain children needed to go to school.
Other evidence of this same attitude towards the
need for education in Appalachia is illustrated in the
booklet Old Andy the Moonshiner. Written in 1909 by
Martha Gielow, this short story recounts the fictional
life of a Tennessee mountain man who, along with his
wife, raises their granddaughter after her mother died
during childbirth. Isolated and uneducated, Andy hears of
a school and saves money earned from moonshining to send
the young girl to school. It is the child's persuasion of
the court in the end that saves Andy from going to jail
when caught running moonshine. On the final page of the
booklet, the author notes:
Ibid., 84-85.
53
An unenlightened farmer who can not read knows
little of the advantages of trade, and where there
are no facilities for knowledge there can be no
progress. Illiteracy in this enlightened age is a
crime against humanity, and a shame to the nation.
The high percentage of illiterate native born whites
in the Appalachian mountains is a menace to the
future welfare of this country. We give millions
every year for foreign missions, millions for the
education of emigrants and negroes. Let us give the
same chance to these American children of the
Nation.85
Gielow used this story to bring attention to the need for
education in Appalachia. Andy, much like Silas, used the
means available to him to support the education of the
orphans. Historian Wilbur Miller notes this same practice
in yet another case, writing that,
One moonshiner, Samson, told a sympathetic
reporter that he was not "making this whiskey to
speculate on." Instead he was only making enough to
buy books and shoes so his three children could
attend school and "get a little taste of
education."86
Obviously, people like Silas, Samson, and Uncle Sol from
within Appalachia, as well as certain outsiders, like
Martha Gielow and the women of the Hindman School,
15 Martha Gielow, Old Andy the Moonshiner (Washington D.C.: W.J. Roberts
Company, 1909).
"' Wilbur Miller, Revemiers and Moonshiners: Enforcing Federal Liquor Law in
the Mountain South, 1865-1900 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 1991), 29.
54
realized the importance of education for mountain
children.
Silas' school was not in operation all the years in
which he ran his orphanage. When the reporter from
Columbia traveled to the mountains to find the legendary-
Silas Butts in 1953, he noted that,
At one time Silas built a school for his
children and hired a teacher to give them an
elementary education. With some help from the
county, he maintained this school for several years
but today it is an abandoned building and the
children attend public school in Westminster.87
Sending the children to school in town would also
"mainstream" them into the modern society. When it became
available to bus the children into town in order to go to
school, it made Silas' efforts to make use of what he had
to educate his children an even greater sign of
generosity. When they were expelled from the school at
Brasstown Church, Silas made sure they received an
education even before it was readily available to them
through the county.
So what happened to the children after Silas'
school? Spec Jameson tells that, "a lot of the kids,
though, went through school there, and went on to the DAR
Bigham.
55
[school] and finished and went to college."88 Barbara
Haynes, who attended Silas' school during the 1940's,
followed up her two or three years at his school by
moving on to the Long Creek Academy.89 The Tamassee DAR
School and the Long Creek Academy were established "for
underprivileged children living in the mountainous areas
of Oconee County." The Long Creek Academy, built by the
Home Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention in
1914, "operated as a grammar school and high school and
also offered Bible and missions courses." After
eventually becoming a private school, the Academy closed
in 1956.90
Martha Gielow, author of Old Andy the Moonshiner,
was influential in the creation of the Tamassee DAR
school. In a conference of the South Carolina Daughters
of the American Revolution in 1914, she spoke "most
feelingly of the needs of these Saxon-Americans and urged
the South Carolina Daughters to do all possible to help
educate and uplift these worthy people." The selection of
Spec Jameson, 12 June 2003.
Barbara Haynes, 19 April 2002.
Oconee Historical Society, Historic Sites of Oconee County, S.C., 1991.
56
Tamassee as the site for the new school encompassed
several reasons, including:
The great need for such a school in this
immediate section is emphasized by the pitiable
condition of the neighboring district schools -
short term, one teacher sessions held in one-room,
delapitated [sic] buildings.
These children are eager but have no
opportunities.
Their outlook is barren and the future holds
nothing for girls of this class except heavy field
work or the cotton mill.
Their ignorance of housekeeping, cooking,
caring for the sick is appalling.
The only hope for community betterment and the
uplift of this class is through the children.
These mountain children living at the foot of
the Blue Ridge are waiting for the glow of education
to brighten their darkened horizons. Their fathers
and mothers have expressed their willingness to help
and co-operate with this school in every possible
91
way.
Even before Silas' school, there was a recognition of the
need for education in the mountains of Oconee County.
The idea that Silas wanted his kids to be educated
and even the humorous stories remembered by Mary Arve
provide a quaint and romanticized view of a one-room
schoolhouse in the mountains. However, realistically,
this is not all that is remembered. Evelyn Walker, who
lived with her grandmother in one of Silas' tenant houses
and later married a man raised by Silas, remembers
Grace Ward Calhoun, Tamassee's First Decade: 1914-1924.
57
another side of Silas Butts' legacy and the community in
Brasstown Valley. Evelyn Walker recalls that as her
future husband was pulling his younger sister home from
school one day, two of Silas' boys "took her out of the
wagon, up in the wooded area, and they raped her and from
that day forward, she never took another step. It
crippled her for life."92 Mary Arve also recalled another
story that was funny to her nearly sixty years later, but
not at the time:
One day, two boys were out fighting at recess
with knives. I always carried my lunch on Monday
morning, enough to do me a whole week and I hid it
in the organ. And I marched the children out and
then I went to the organ and ate my lunch. I was
eating lunch and I heard this awful hollering out in
the yard and I went out and it was two boys- big
boys, fighting with knives. And I went out and took
them away from them- wouldn't do it now for
anything- and one of them said, "We can't do
anything to you and we know we can't do anything to
you. Silas got us from Clayton, Georgia, out of
jail, for throwing rocks at women. And we know we
can't bother you. But we've got a sister at home,
and we'll bring her tomorrow and she'll get you. She
tried to commit suicide yesterday by jumping in the
lake, and we got her out. And we'll bring her
tomorrow and she'll get you." But, I didn't sleep
much that night but she didn't come the next day,
thank goodness.93
Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
58
These stories suggest a far different side of living and
going to school in the mountains than the attitudes
portrayed in the newspapers. However, it could be
instances like these that the formal education was hoping
to prevent.
Silas Butts served as a transition between his own
generation, which was uneducated by schools, and the
children that he raised in a modern society tearing at
the isolation known to previous generations of mountain
people. Before they were able to be bussed into town and
after Mary Arve had expelled them for drunkenness, Silas
built his own school to provide this education. Perhaps
it was his experiences outside of his home in the remote
Brasstown Valley, or something within him, like Uncle
Sol, but nevertheless, he made sure that his "adopted"
children received "the things the old man had never had a
chance to learn himself."94
94
'Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday."
MOONSHINING
Silas Butts is most notorious and best remembered for
making and selling liquor. In fact, as one newspaper
article suggests, "Orphanage Ran on Corn," Silas' liquor
sales supported his "homemade" orphanage. Living in the
mountains, but not too far from town to travel to and fro,
Silas had many customers. They would travel to him and he
would go to them, usually under the pretext of selling his
farm produce. Stories remain, even fifty years later, of
how he made and sold liquor, got caught doing it, and ended
up in court.
First, and naturally, Silas' act of making moonshine
and selling it is what people remember. Jake Gambrell, who
was scared of Silas as a little boy, remembers:
Another time some doctor had prescribed some corn
whiskey to somebody [who] was sick and need something
to stimulate the heart. And Harold Richardson and his
uncle didn't know of nobody that had any pure corn
liquor but Silas Butts. Silas, up there in them
mountains, to support these orphanage children, and he
made liquor. He had about two or three stills
scattered around over the mountains. So the revenue
officers found one, they wanted to put him out of
business. A lot of people would go to Silas to buy
whiskey and the revenue officers sort of found out how
they did it. So they'd dress up like a beggar and go
up there and want to buy half a gallon or gallon of
corn whiskey. Then when he'd come out with it, he'd
show him his badge and carry him- make him pay a fine
or put him in jail. So when Richardson and his uncle
60
got there, they was in a buggy, and they called him
out and told him what they wanted. They wanted... I
think it was a quart of corn whiskey. "Ahh fellows,
just hitch your mule and sit here and take it easy
and I'll see you again after a while." And he went
around through the woods and he was going to watch
them and see v/hat they done. And he went over yonder
and they saw him crawling on his all-fours through
the woods, looking back toward the house. And he
see'd they was just going to sit there in the buggy
'til he got back, and so he figured that wasn't
nobody was going to turn him in. He got them whiskey
and come back and let them have it.95
This mistrust and caution was a common
characteristic amongst moonshiners. Historian Wilbur
Miller lists several unique ways in which blockaders
could and did reach their customers including hollow
trees, ringing a bell and even freshly cut branches lying
on the ground and pointed in the direction of the liquor.
Miller comments that "such marketing of course depended
on local people's trust of each other."96 Silas is
remembered as implementing several of these clever
business maneuvers including leaving cash for liquor
under the stop-sign post at the junction of Brasstown
Road and Highway 76.97 Ironically, Silas' school also sat
Jake and Clco Gambrcll, 13 June 2003.
Wilbur Miller, 34.
Jack Freeman, personal interview, 18 April 2002.
61
at this junction. Another option for Silas, though, was
to use his kids. Johnny Ballenger recalls:
01' Ken Abies, he wanted to go up there one
time. He wanted some Apple Brandy. He said if
anybody's got it, Silas Butts will have some. I run
around with Ken a good bit back then and me and him
went up there. And he asked Silas, he said, "Silas,
I want some Apple Brandy, you got any?" "Aw yeah."
And he called one of them boys, "Go up on the side
of that mountain, you know where that certain log is
up there? Scratch them leaves back on the upper side
and bring him a quart."98
Silas, along with many moonshiners, used their common
sense and knowledge of their surroundings when using
caution in order to not get caught and therefore stay in
business.
For a while, Silas would also have had customers
from the men at the Civilian Conservation Corps camp,
which was nearby. The CCC built the road that passed
immediately in front of Silas' house and down through the
valley in 1935. Spec Jameson, working for the CCC,
remembers sitting and drinking with Silas until nearly
midnight at the lake behind the mill. Then he would
either have to walk back or have a ride back to the
camp." Claude Buff, while surveying timber, stumbled
David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
Spec Jameson, 12 June 2003.
62
across a hidden keg of whiskey. Later, he and another man
stashed it in the rumble seat of a 1928 A Model to
transport it to the CCC camp. Nearly sixty five years
later, Mr. Buff remembers, "Mister, that was the best
liquor I ever tasted in my life. It didn't last too long
because we was freely giving drinks away."100 Whether or
not this whiskey was Silas', it does show that Silas had
customers, and plenty of them.
The neighbor and friend to Silas, Clem Smith,
remembered going to Silas' for liquor with his brother-
in-law many times:
Silas would be in the bed, if he wanted it
good, he'd reach over here and get a jug [to his
right], if you wanted just regular liquor, it'd be
over here [to his left]. And be able to make change,
he'd reach over here- different sizes of money.
Never get out of bed and do business like that, I
seen it happen. Many times.101
This does not reflect the caution that Wilbur Miller
notes was characteristic of moonshiners. Having different
qualities within reach of the bed shows a calm and
relaxing business of someone not worried about raids or
getting caught. The time span between such occurrences
could be the cause of this as to the fact that everyone
Claude Buff, personal interview, 7 March 2003.
Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
63
r
eventually knew that Silas made and sold liquor, so why
bother? Validity of stories could also be cause of this
difference. However, the fact remains that Silas made and
sold liquor, and like other moonshiners, found unusual
ways of selling it, ways which fuel stories of his
character and behavior even until today.
Running one's own corn mill and owning several
hundred acres of bottom land was sufficient to supply one
with enough corn to make liquor. However, sugar was not
so readily available, especially during World War II.
During the war, one obituary recalls, Silas is remembered
for his "generosity and patriotism" because "during a
rally in Walhalla one night... He bought $10,000 worth of
war bonds."102 Another article at his death remembered
this same act with, "Silas is attested to by the fact
that during World War II he purchased in a lump $10,000
worth of war bonds." The article stated that Silas
"pridefully pointed out 'I had boys a-fightin' all over
the world.'"103 His Probate Records allow for this to be
true in that he still had $5,000 in Government Bonds when
r
F
102
'Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday."
103 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
64
he died.104 However, it may not have been complete
"generosity and patriotism" that made Silas buy all these
war bonds. Johnny Ballenger explains:
Back during the war, the Second World War,
there wasn't no such thing as buying sugar. And they
was wanting to sell war bonds to help the war along
you know. So up there at Mack's Chevrolet in
Westminster, someway or another, some of them got a
hold of several hundred pounds of sugar. And they
was going to have a sale... a war bond sale down there
at the Chevrolet place and the one that bought the
most bonds, got the sugar free. And Silas got it.105
Gladys Elliott, as a young girl living in town, recalled
that they would allow an army jeep ride to those who
bought these bonds in town. Silas, not caring to take the
ride, would pass the opportunity on to one of the boys or
girls present. Ruth Hardy was one who got to ride because
of Silas' generosity and she always remembered that Silas
had done that for her.106 But Silas obviously had other
things on his mind that day. The amount of money he spent
leads to the understanding that he was not in it
completely for the sugar. Would that amount of sugar
bring him more than he paid for the bonds, even after
"Inventory and Appraisement of Personal Property of Silas Butts Deceased,"
1956.
105 David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
106 Gladys Elliott, 17 June 2003.
65
their trade-in value? Or was he there to sincerely
support the government- the same government that would
try to stop him from "using" the sugar? Or was it a
combination of both: giving the public the notion that he
cared and fueling his future obituary as well as getting
the sugar for his mash?
Perhaps the best known and often repeated story
about Silas Butts is of how he sold his liquor in town.
There are probably as many versions of this story as
there are people who tell it. Basically, Silas would
travel the streets in one of the towns in the county,
often in a mill village, and holler in his keen, high
pitched voice, "Corn, Cabbage, Beans... and Good Corn
Liquor!"107 Miller writes of this same sales pitch, "Other
wildcatters marketed their product directly from their
wagon, usually hiding the liquor under apples or other
produce, to customers in valley towns or to drovers who
passed by on the way to market."108 Whether people
believed him or not, whether they laughed at him or not,
and whether he sold great amounts of his liquor this way
107
Jake and Cleo Gambrell, 13 June 2003.
108 Miller, 35.
66
or not, this method of selling his liquor is, by far, the
most remembered tale of Silas Butts and his moonshining.
Most stories of Silas and his moonshining activities
are of him selling liquor, but one story surfaced about
Silas buying liquor. Randolph Phillips, a great nephew to
Silas, recalls a time when Silas bought a truckload of
liquor from a man out of Tennessee. One can almost hear
the high pitched voice of Silas bargaining over an entire
truckload of liquor. The man from Tennessee opens the
truck, and pulls out a jar to let Silas sample the
whiskey from out of state. Silas, impressed, buys the
entire truckload from the man, real cheap. A few days
later, Silas goes to the liquor that he purchased only to
discover that it is all water except for the little bit
that he had sampled. "01' Silas was mad," Silas' nephew
recalled. "Man, he was mad. He had done got ripped
off."109
As luck would have it though, Silas himself got
caught from time to time. James Nix, from down in Seneca,
recalled another infamous story about Silas:
One time... Silas was downtown and at that
time, Sam Hunnicutt was the sheriff, and I believe
Seab Moss was his chief deputy. And they run into
Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
67
Silas... [and] said, "Silas, we cut your still this
morning." And he said, "Where at?" And he said, "At
the end of your garden." He said, "Which end?" So
they'll go back up there and they'd cut another one
on the other end. So he had two stills working.110
Yet again, it is Silas' wit and humor that are remembered
as well as his nonchalant attitude concerning his illegal
stills.
It is important, though, to explore a little bit
about the two law officers mentioned above. Sam N.
Hunnicutt, affectionately known in the community as "Mr.
Sam," and his chief deputy, Seaborn [Seab] Moss, are
recalled as friendly and personable law officers not too
unlike those portrayed by Andy Taylor and Barney Fife in
The Andy Griffith Show. At the death of Mr. Sam, his
obituary explained it as "one of the final vestiges of a
era when Oconee politics were robust, colorful, and
warmly personalized."111
Memories from older folks in Oconee County, and the
imaginations of those younger, recreate the scenes on the
streets of town. Thus, on the same streets on which an
old mountaineer was selling corn and corn liquor, Mr. Sam
110 James Nix, 13 June 2003.
111 "A Political Era Fades At Passing of Mr. Sam," Keowee Courier, 22 July
1959.
68
could be seen walking with his trademark "diamond
stickpin and broad-brimmed western style hat." As he
passed a lady walking down the sidewalk, he would "sweep
off his big hat, bow his head perceptibly, and greet her
as 'little lady'." As he continued down the street, he
might stick his head in someone's door and ask, "vHas
anybody seed Seab?'"112 Mr. Sam, as well as Seab,
obviously left an impression among the people of Oconee
County.
On the twelfth of August, 1937, the Keowee Courier
reported the following story:
Officers S. V. Rackley and L. P. Sanders cut
down a forty gallon moonshine still in the Battle
Creek section on Wednesday night. Arrested four;
three men for having illegal liquor in possession
and confiscated a pick-up truck-- this happened on
Brasstown road. Arrested one drunk driver and six
drunks; arrested three under warrants.u3
The three arrested under warrants were Ed Swafford, John
Derrick, and S. N. Butts.114 It seems that Silas had been
caught.
When this trial came around during General Sessions
Court in November of that same year, a true bill was
112 Ibid.
113 "Rural Police Raid Another Distillery," Keowee Courier, 12 August 1937.
114 The State vs. Silas Butts, "Arrest Warrant and Affidavit," 1937.
69
given for Silas and John Derrick but not Ed Swafford.
Witnesses sworn for the State were the two arresting
officers and Seaborn Moss. Silas and John Derrick were
not represented by counsel. The verdict was: "Both guilty
of having in possession. Not guilty of transporting." And
"the sentence of the court is that the Defendants, John
Derrick and SN Butts, each be confined upon the Public
Works of Oconee County, or in the State Penitentiary, at
hard labor for a term of 3 0 days, or pay a fine of
$200. "115 But, Silas, who never separated his personal
life from his "business," was not through yet.
In March of 1938, a letter was sent to "His
Excellency Governor Olin D. Johnston" petitioning in
favor of Silas Butts. It read:
...the undersigned citizens of Oconee County
are well acquainted with the defendant, Silas Butts,
and believe that on account of his advanced age and
the feeble condition of his health, and knowing that
his supervision is badly needed at this time on his
farm, and over the fifteen orphan children he has
been caring for, and who reside at his home, we
respectfully petition Your Excellency to grant to
the said Silas N. Butts clemency to the extent of
releasing him from the sentence imposed and the
subsequent bond.
The letter was signed by eleven men, including the
Superintendent of Education, the County Supervisor, the
115 The State vs. John Derrick & SN Butts, 1937.
70
Magistrate, the Judge of Probate, Sam Hunnicutt, and Seab
Moss.116 Along with this letter, two notes, one from Wm.
A. Strickland, M.D. and the other from Dr. F. T. Simpson,
v/ere sent to the Governor stating that Silas was ruptured
on his left side and had several ribs broken which would
hinder him from doing hard labor.117 Another letter was
also sent to the Governor of South Carolina from Rufus
Fant, Solicitor of the Tenth Circuit, in which he stated:
I understand these parties are petitioning for
clemency and that a number of prominent citizens of
Oconee County have recommended clemency. It will be
satisfactory with me for you to suspend their
sentences upon payment of $2 5.00, - that is, payment
of $25.00 by each defendant.118
As a result, Governor Johnston released the two men for a
fine of $25.00 each.119
So why the change of heart? Seab Moss had been a
sworn witness against Silas and yet he signed the
petition to release Silas. The answer may be found in yet
another tale that is often repeated, with many versions.
Spec Jameson told it as follows:
116 W.C. Hutchinson, et aL, letter to Governor Olin D. Johnston, 15 March 1938.
117 Wm. A. Strickland, letter to Whom It May Concern, 9 March 1938; F. T.
Simpson, letter to Whom It May Concern, 13 March 1938.
118 Rufus Fant, letter to the Governor Olin D. Johnston, 17 March 1938.
119 Olin D. Johnston, letter to G. W. Shirley, 19 March 1938.
71
They had him [Silas] up for selling whiskey.
And he come to the courthouse in Walhalla. So, the
old judge told him, he said, "Silas, you've been
down here so many times, I'm going to have to give
you a little time this time." He said, "OK judge,"
he said, "I'll have to go home and get my kids
straightened out." He said, "Well you go home and do
that." And when he come back he had all his kids and
set them right on the front seat and he said, "Now,
kids" he said, "this judge is going to send me away
awhile but he's going to take care of you so you be
good." He said, "Silas, you take them kids and go
back home."120
Silas' humor and keen wit shines front and foremost yet
again. Seeing as how the petition to the Governor
mentions an exact number of children living with Silas,
it is very possible that this tale corresponds with this
court case. The petition does clearly illustrate a
network that Silas created. This provides yet another
variable to the question: Why did Silas take in all of
these children? All aspects of his life intertwined
together and created who he was. In essence, the
Superintendent of Education signed a petition for Silas
to be forgiven for moonshining because of his unofficial
orphanage and humor in court. Silas knew this and he used
it to his advantage. He was, in short, "no man's fool."121
120 Spec Jameson, 12 June 2003.
121 There are many references to Silas appearing in court for moonshining other
than this case in 1937. The Walhalla court records only provide this criminal court
case and his Assault and Battery case in the late 1940s. Ray Gambrell remembers
72
As Wilbur Miller points out in his study of
moonshiners, letting Silas slide for running the
orphanage would not have been too uncommon, especially in
a small tight-knit community where everyone knew
everything about everybody's affairs. He notes the case
of a woman who "confessed that she had been moonshining
for several years, but the revenuers let her go because
she had a small baby with her."122 In the courtroom
scenario, Miller also points out other obstacles to
convicting moonshiners since "When moonshiners were
arrested, sympathy continued to provide allies. It was
very difficult to find men to serve on federal juries who
were willing to indict or convict blockaders."123 Another
story that arose about Silas' court appearances for
Violation of the Liquor Law was told by Clem Smith.
According to Clem Smith:
They caught him at his liquor still one time,
and carried him to Walhalla and trying him in court.
Old judge says, "Mr. Butts, I'm gonna fine you five
hundred dollars." He had a bunch of them kids with
him. And he hit the floor and just moaning and
roaning. And the judge told him, says, "Mr. Butts,
seeing Silas Butts on the Chain Gang building roads in the 1920s. Other interviews
mention that Silas may have been tried in other courts besides Walhalla but this
remains uncertain.
122 Miller, 36.
Ibid., 51.
73
get up." Says, "I'm gonna fine you three hundred
dollars." And back to the floor he went. Next time
he come to the stand, judge said, "How much can you
pay?" He said, "Sha' I can pay two hundred dollars."
He reached down in his overall's pocket and come out
with a roll of hundred dollar bills. Judge says, "I
thought you couldn't pay?" "Sha'!" and then [he] got
out with two hundred dollars.124
Miller also notes the humor of many moonshiners in their
court appearances. One moonshiner, he observes, "appeared
in federal court many times between the 1870s and 1890;
at first he was acquitted because his wit and repartee
won over both judge and jury. Once Judge Dick told Owens
that he had given the court "lots of trouble," to which
the sprightly Irishman replied, "This hyar court's give
me lots of trouble too."125 Assuming that these stories
and the stories about Silas are true, Silas played on the
same sentiments and made the same pleas that Miller
mentions in order to reduce his sentence.
Silas Butts made and sold liquor. He also got caught
for making liquor. But he somehow managed to get his
punishment reduced, proving thereby his sharp mind and
his social abilities. He made use of time, setting,
124 Clem Smith, 25 February 2003.
125
Miller, 50.
74
people, and humor to win the community over. All of this
came from a mountain man with no formal education.
ORPHANAGE
Silas Butts raised no children of his own. However,
his front-page obituary recalls him as an "Adopted Father
of 50. "126 Silas took in children, and even some adults, and
treated (or used) them as his own family. The main
question, though, is why did he do this? Was it because he
actually cared for these children? Or was it because he had
no children of his own but needed hands to work his bottom
lands at Brasstown? Why did he have no children of his own?
Or did he?
Silas would take in children from wherever he could
get them. Mary Arve commented that "he got a lot of them in
Clayton [Georgia]." Silas' farm is not far from the Georgia
line, and as one progresses up Highway 76, Clayton is the
first town across the state line. According to Mary Arve,
two boys told her that "Silas got us from Clayton, Georgia,
out of jail, for throwing rocks at women."12' This suggests
that Silas was giving them a home and another chance. But
"Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
76
was he out looking for children for field hands or did he
take them in because they needed him?
One young boy, Tom Smith, living in town as the only
child of a lady working in the mill, found himself going
up the mountain one day with Silas and his wife, Louisa,
to live at Brasstown. Tom remembers not being scared at
the time. Silas had learned of Tom during one of his
trips to town to sell vegetables, and more than likely,
liquor. However, Tom remembers running away from the farm
several times over the next few months and eventually,
Silas took him back down the mountain to his mother.128
Another time, Johnny Ballenger recalled that he always
saw a young boy standing on the side of the road on their
way to Westminster.
He was an Anderson, that's who he was. Little
ol' boy about five, six, maybe seven years old.
Every time we'd go up through there, he'd be
standing on the side of the road. He'd catch the
v/agon and swing on the coupling pole. . . Coupling
pole sticking out and ride to town. And Silas got
him.129
Silas just seemed to get them when and where he could.
One newspaper article included the word "handicapped"
Tom Smith, 30 July 2003.
David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
77
when describing some of the children that he raised.131"
Depending on the degree of their handicap, this would tip
the scale towards Silas' humanitarian character rather
than the mere need for farm hands.
Many stories remain to this day of Silas threatening
to take little children for some reason or another. He
would either joke with their parents or threaten to take
them if they did not behave. Gladys Elliott tells one of
these stories:
My dad and my little twin sisters, who were
about ten at the time, were in Westminster and Mr.
Silas Butts came up to daddy and asked if he would
like to have him take his little twins and it scared
them. They thought he really was going to get
them.131
Other stories, very similar to this one, are also still
told all these years later. Johnny Ballenger told of
Silas asking for a boy named Floyd:
Floyd said him and his daddy was up town there
and Silas come along up the street. And he didn't
make no difference who it was. He looked over and
seen that he was a little boy and looked at him and
said- told his daddy, said, "Give me that boy!" Said
he liked to have scared him to death. He just knowed
his dad was going to give him away. But he would,
everybody that come along there, if they had a
little boy, "Give me that boy!"132
130 "Silas Butts Dies At 76."
131 Gladys Elliott, 17 June 2003.
132 David Pitts and Johnny Ballenger, 13 June 2003.
I
I
78
Even Mary Arve, who had taught Silas' "adopted" children
when she was fresh out of college, recalled Silas asking
her if she wanted to get rid of her grandson many years
later. Mary Arve also sold insurance, and as Silas sat on
her front porch one day waiting for her to fill out
papers, he saw the young boy in the yard and simply asked
if he could have him.133 These children that Silas asked
for are often who keep these stories alive. The stories
are often told as if Silas was speaking in jest, but as
with Tom Smith, would Silas turn down someone willing to
send their child home with him?
Ray and Jake Gambrell remember as very small
children, nearly 85 years ago, Silas riding by on his
mule.
My first recollection of him [Silas] was when I
was about four years old. It was always said around
there that he would get bad boys and throw them in a
sack, and put a rock in it, and throw them in the
river and drown them if they were bad boys. Of
course, we as young boys didn't know how bad he was.
So, one day when I was four years old, he came down
■ the road, riding his mule with a sack tied around
the neck of the mule, and something hanging down. We
were afraid of him, because we had heard what he
would do to us. So Jake, my older brother, was two
years older than I was and I was four, was wrestling
_ with me in the yard. And we looked down the road,
and saw this man coming with a mule, and a sack
~
133
Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
r
r
79
around his neck. We knew he was Silas Butts and we
were afraid of him. So, there wasn't time to get in
the house, they were tall steps. We lived in the Sam
Brown Dairy Barn House; at that time we owned that.
And we ran around under the steps and hid and
watched him pass. And our mother came out on the
porch and says, "What on Earth is the matter with
you boys?" We said "Sila' Butts' coming." I couldn't
even say "Silas." I said, "Sila' Butts' coming!
Sila' Butts' coming! And we're hiding from him."134
Jake continues with:
And he [Silas] hollered, "Ms. Gambrell, them
boys don't quit that fighting up there, I'll take
this Croker Sack I'm sitting on, put them in it and
tie a rock to it and I'll throw them in the river
when I go across over yonder." Shooo Boy! One of us
went one way and the other, the other way. It
tickled Mama. And he went on.1'
These boys were scared of Silas. But how did they know
about Silas and his children?
Jake and Ray's story ends with another common
characteristic of Silas' orphanage and that was the
ability of children's parents to use Silas as a threat.
Jake concluded with, "And every time me and Ray would get
into it about something or another, she'd tell me, 'I'm
going to give you to Silas Butts.' Boy, that would settle
134 Ray Gambrell, personal interview, 21 February 2003.
135 Jake and Cleo Gambrell, 13 June 2003.
80
it right there."136 Randolph Phillips remembers this same
fear:
We was afraid of Silas because anything we
would do, they'd holler, "We're going to give you to
Silas Butts." And it scared us to death. They said,
"Here come Silas." I must have been about three
years old, or four. And I run slap off of the end of
the porch and liked to have broke my neck. I was
running because Silas was a coming.137
The Charlotte Observer mentioned this same threat in an
article when they quoted someone saying, "My mama used to
tell us, 'You be good or Silas Butts gon' gitchee.'"138
Silas Butts and his orphanage left an impression among
more than just the children that he raised.
Silas Butts' orphanage, however, is often referred
to as "unofficial." Shortly after Silas death, James
Lawing sent a letter to Judge of Probate. Lawing was, at
the time, serving time in the State Penitentiary but knew
of Silas death. In the letter, it stated, "Being the
adopted son of Silas Butts by legal adoption, I presumed
that by law I would be considered his nearest of kin,
excepting of course, his wife, Louisa Butts, in the
136 Ibid.
137
Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
138 Jackson.
81
distribution of the deceased said Estate."139 However, a
letter was sent back to Mr. Lawing from the Judge of
Probate, and in it was written:
...Please be advised that the County Attorney
has carefully checked all the records here in the
Oconee County Court house and has failed to find
that you were ever legally adopted by the late Silas
L. Butts [sic] . In fact the matter is, he made a
second search just to be sure and certain after we
received your letter.
Mr. John M. Schofield, who represented you, was
contacted and he stated that you were never legally
adopted by a Court Order.
I am sorry to inform you that you are not a
legal heir so you will not come in for a share of
his Estate.140
It appears that since Mr. Schofield knew that James
Lawing was not legally adopted, James Lawing was not
under the impression that he really was. But, this letter
illustrates the "unofficial" description often associated
with Silas' orphanage.
Another instance that portrays Silas' orphanage as
"unofficial" is a method of adoption that he is known to
have used. It seems that at some point, as the story
goes, someone supposedly deeded their child/children to
Silas. A lawyer in town received $10 for this
"unofficial" service. Yet again, though, this of course
James Lawing, letter to the R. C. Carter II.
R. C. Carter II, letter to James Lawing, 30 September 1957.
82
did not make the "adoption" legal.141 E. Wayne Carp,
editor of Adoption in America: Historical Perspectives,
comments that this type of transaction was not all too
uncommon, claiming that early adoption statutes "merely
provided legal procedure to 'authenticate and make a
public record of private adoption agreements,' analagous
to recording a deed for a piece of land."142 This is
partially due to what another historian points out in
saying that "Adoption was unknown at common law," and
"prior to the enactment of these statutes, parties
informally "adopted" children through wills, voluntary
and involuntary indentures, private legislative acts, and
other means."143 Obviously, at least some of the children
were treated as property and their transaction was done
in a business-like manner.
Historian Barabara Melosh comments on this type of
"adoption" in her study, Strangers and Kin: The American
Way of Adoption. She notes:
41 Charles Barrett, personal interview, 2 May 2002.
" E. Wayne Carp, ed. Adoption in America: Historical Perspectives (Ann Arbor:
The University of Michigan Press, 2002), 5.
Chris Guthrie and Joanna L. Grossman, "Adoption in the Progressive Era:
Preserving, Creating, and Re-creating Familcs," American Journal of Legal History
43 (July 1999): 236.
83
Apprenticeship and indenture were established
forms of labor regulation and child exchange, with
reciprocal obligations between master and
apprenticeship or servant stipulated by contract and
longstanding social practice... Outside the boundaries
of formal legal institutions, children circulated
among extended families and neighbors when economic
pressure or a parent's death left children without
adequate means of support.144
However, these forms of "adoption" are often associated
with the nineteenth century prior to adoption laws. In
the article, "A Good Home: Indenture and Adoption in
Nineteenth-Century Orphanages," historian Susan Porter
also notes that "Adoption may have been understood more
as an offshoot of indenture (an economic and conditional
contact based on the exchange of labor) rather than as a
legal arrangement based on mutual sentiment."145 Silas'
"orphanage" does appear, though, to be a form of
indentured care. Even with the possibility of legal
adoption, Silas still implements this indenture-like form
of adoption with the children.
Many sources also report that he cared for adults in
his house as well. One obituary indicates that "Besides
Barbara Mclosh, Strangers and Kin: The American Way of Adoption
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), 15.
145 Susan Porter, "A Good Home: Indenture and Adoption in Nineteenth-Century
Orphanages," Adoption in America: Historical Perspectives, cd. E. Wayne Carp (Ann
Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2002), 28.
84
the children he adopted, Butts also took elderly people
into his home for care. Two of the elderly women he
befriended, Pearl Sheppard and Nanie Evans, still live
with Mrs. Butts at the home."146 Another article that
appeared in the Anderson Independent claimed that Silas
took in and cared for "a dozen adults."147 Whatever the
actual number of elderly cared for, Silas does seem to
have taken adults into his "orphanage."
So how many children (and adults) did Silas actually
raise or care for? The numbers vary. In the late 1930's,
Mary Arve remembers that there were thirteen of his
children in school. But, she also quoted him as saying he
had more than that, and that thirteen was just the number
in school.148 The petition to the Governor for Silas'
pardon claims that he was responsible for fifteen
children in 1938. This would seem to correspond with Mary
Arve's numbers. In 1953, when John Bigham showed up from
The State to take a picture of Louisa and the children
(for Silas was in town), "eight or ten boys and two girls
showed up for the purpose of having their pictures
146 "Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday."
147 Alexander.
148 Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
taken."149 However, this leaves the door open for a larger
total.
After his death, many variations as to the total
number children he raised have been used to describe his
"orphanage." One obituary claimed "approximately 45
orphaned or homeless children" and "as many as 18
children in the home at one time."150 Another claims "50
or more youngsters."151 A family history follows along
these same lines with "more than fifty persons."152 Other
articles claim "nearly 50 children"153 and that he "raised
45... [and] at one time he had, maybe, 25."154 The general
consensus seems to be that there were a total of around
fifty.
But how long did Silas run this "orphanage?" A
caption to one picture of Mr. and Mrs. Butts with the
orphans notes that "mountain children have been finding a
149 Bigham.
150 "Silas Butts, Kindly Mountaineer Dies of Heart Attack Sunday."
151 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
152 Carlie Butts, Butts Generations, 823.
153 Alexander.
154 Jackson.
86
home with the Butts since World War I."155 Other claims,
such as an obituary, indicate that "...during the past 51
years [in 1956]"156 and Bigham speaks of "...a unique
practice carried on by them for more than 25 years."157
The total number of years that Silas and Louisa ran the
orphanage is a little less clear. However, his brother,
Jim, moved his family into town in 1915.15a Silas would
have needed farm hands from the very beginning. More than
likely, there was never a true count of the total number
of orphans or the total number of years that they lived
with Silas. In fact, a total number was probably not
important for Silas and Louisa. If they took in children
as a humanitarian effort, numbers would not have mattered
and if they needed the help on the farm, numbers would
have only been important at specific times of the year.
Delving deeper into Silas' orphanage, one wonders
what life was like for the "orphan" children there. One
can imagine waking up as a child there in the large attic
of the house amongst ten to fifteen other children. Only
155 "Silas Butts Speaks Up," unknown newspaper.
156 "Silas Butts, Adopted Father of 50, Passes."
157 Bigham.
158 Aheron.
two chimneys served the house and with wooden shingles,
it must have been cold in the winter, nestled down in the
valley. Silas had taken "creek willows... and made little
places in the attic where them kids all slept [and] put a
little mattress in there."159 However, Tom Smith, at age
eight or nine, remembers sleeping downstairs in one of
the five bedrooms.160
For this many people in one house, there must have
been a great need for food and thus, the need to work in
the fields. Randolph Phillips remembers as a young boy,
seeing everyone out in the fields at Brasstown and
"seeing the girls, they had bonnets on and had them long
dresses that went all the way to the ground and sleeves
and they'd be out hoeing beans and corn and stuff out in
the field."161 Countless other chores were surely a part
of their daily lives including chopping wood and
gathering leaves for the stables.162
But life for the children does not seem to have been
romanticized, at least not as some remember it. Evelyn
159
David Pitts and Johnny Ballcngcr, 13 June 2003.
160 Tom Smith, 30 July 2003.
161 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
162 Tom Smith, 30 July 2003.
88
Walker, who lived with her grandmother in one of Silas'
tenant houses, recalls a darker side of Silas, less often
remembered and spoken of even less. She states that one
of the girls who lived there with Silas,
they put her down in the well. Fifty foot well
and had a rope around her neck and she stayed down
there for... eight hours? And they was a man that
lived down the road that go up there and told him
"Get that kid out of the well or I'm going to call
the law." She stayed there eight hours until the
sheriff of Oconee County came up and made him pull
her out of the well. And they would not press no
charges against him no matter what he done.163
Randolph Phillips told a similar story:
A couple of the orphans that he had, they liked
to have beat 01' Silas to death. And 01' Silas
chained him up in the tater shed he had out there,
little ol' round tater shed he had out there and
said when he got to where he could, he turned him
loose, but he told him, "Now you go to a certain-
certain still." They say he made him stay in that
still shack for about three years. Silas was scared
of him. He liked to have beat Silas to death.164
There was always the rumor that Silas sexually abused the
children that stayed with him. Evelyn Walker talked about
this cautiously, saying that Silas would "use the kids...
the girls, a different one every night."165 Mr. Phillips
Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
89
hinted at this same subject, except amongst the children
themselves, saying:
They separated the boys from the girls, you
know, and stuff. I've heared several stories about
that, you know... Where you have boys and where you
have girls, you going to have mischief. I've heard
several stories but some of it, I won't tell it,
ain't no use in telling that. I thought it was kind
of funny, kind of bad too, but I guess it all
happened.166
What went on there at Silas' seems to be a hush subject
and maybe, for good reason. It is often difficult to
explore a topic as sensitive as this within a community
in Appalachia. The point derived from this, though, is
that things were not as romanticized as they are often
remembered and retold.
The next question that arises is: Why did Silas and
Louisa not have children of their own? As a matter of
fact, some say that he did. The Family History, Butts
Generations, states that, "Silas and Louisa had one child
born dead, [who] was given no name, and was buried in the
'Old Butts Graveyard' at Brasstown."167 When Evelyn Walker
was asked why Silas had no children of his own, she
commented that, "he started with his family, and his
Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
Carlie Butts, Butts Generations, 822.
90
family passed away, then he opened his doors to outside
children." Evelyn Walker also claimed that when Silas
would, "use the girls, a different one every night," that
"his wife caught him and they never had no children. She
wouldn't sleep with him... After they all... He got
through with them, he thought he would go back to his
wife and go to bed with her. Well she wouldn't do it."168
There is also one account of a lady living in Pickens
County whose mother told her that she was the child of
Silas Butts.169 Whether or not these stories had anything
to do with why Silas and Louisa had no surviving children
is unclear and unproven. However, yet again, the point is
that most people believed or assumed they could not have
children and thus they created a family by helping others
who were in need. Was this the only reason, or did the
rumors mentioned above play a role?
This leads back to one of the central questions: Why
did Silas take in all of those children? Was it because
he really was a big-hearted man or did he just need help
on his farm? Was it another reason completely? Mary Arve,
when asked this question outright, responded, "I think it
168 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
169 Carlie Butts, A Man Called Jake, 402.
91
was really for work on the farm because he had a big farm
in there."170 There are probably as many answers to this
question as there are people who could be asked. The
answer, as is often the case, likely lies somewhere in
between. Silas knew how to play his game. He combined a
lot of aspects of his life, drawing from one thing to
help out in another. Whether he planned it or not,
everything in Silas' life seemed to work together for his
own gain.
Mary Arve, 4 August 1992.
LEGACY
When Silas Butts died in August of 1956, he completed
his contributions to what had already become "his legacy."
Being so widely known and popular in his life, it is
therefore possible to use his legacy to illustrate how
history and memory work together and oftentimes, against
one another. It is also worth observing which aspects and
characteristics of Silas' life are remembered. How true are
they? Why do people remember what they do? Whereas these
questions cannot completely be answered through Silas'
legacy, a closer look can provide a better understanding of
the relationship between history and memory.
Silas was a legend even before he died. This is
illustrated in John Bigham's article about him in The State
in 1953. He opens the article by explaining his assignment:
The assignment was to find Silas Butts in Oconee
county and determine what kind of character he was and
whether the tales concerning him which had drifted
down the state were of whole cloth or fabrications
arising from rumors, legends, and folklore circulating
in South Carolina's hill country. Taking advantage of
a weeks vacation at the State Park above Walhalla this
past July, I made a thorough study of a truly fabulous
mountaineer and found that here was a human landmark
towering head and shoulders in renown above his fellow
citizens in the state's northwest corner and whose
93
fame spilled over into neighboring areas of North
Carolina and Georgia. All this in spite of the fact
that Silas Butts is hardly known down state below
Anderson.171
Bigham's use of words such as "fabulous," "human
landmark," and "fame" illustrates a legend or legacy that
had already been created even before he died. Indeed, he
had made enough of an impression on this man 150 miles
away for Bigham to come and seek him out.
Silas created a legacy that portrayed him as a good-
natured hero who saved little mountain children. In fact,
Silas' life resembles that of a fairy tale. Bigham
describes his departure from Brasstown:
As we drove away that morning from Silas'
Castle in the hills, his children waved us farewell
and the time honored injunction to "Come back again"
rang in our ears as we headed the car down the rocky
road toward US 76 and Westminster.172
Views such as Bigham's have led to how Silas is
remembered today. Perhaps romanticized notions of Silas
and his efforts as a humanitarian have helped create the
memory of him that lingers.
A family history, Butts Generations, notes that
Silas was scheduled to appear on the television show,
171 Bigham.
172 Ibid.
94
~
This Is Your Life, just before he died. While the Library
of Congress could not confirm his scheduling, the fact
that many people found this rumor feasible well
illustrates the legend of Silas as an exceptional man and
a man of some significance. The show was in reruns at the
time of his death but episodes immediately preceding his
- death included people such as Milton Berle. The idea that
I
Silas would appear on This Is Your Life, the same show in
which someone like Milton Berle appeared, denotes him,
for those who knew him or thought they knew him, as more
than just another "old man from the mountains." 173
Another interesting connection to popular culture
mentioned in an interview with the current owner of the
Butts' farm, linked Silas Butts with the well-known comic
character Snuffy Smith. The immediate comparison
encompassed the similarities in the moonshining of two
funny men who lived up in the mountains. A closer
comparison revealed similarities in their wife's names:
Louisa Butts as compared to Lowizie Smith. An article
exploring "The Appalachian Backgrounds of Billy De Beck's
Snuffy Smith" explains that "Snuffy Smith, Lowizie, and
their nephew Jughaid embody stereotyped Appalachian
173
Rosemary Hanes, email to author, 21 October 2002.
95
language and situations. This is more than coincidence."
De Beck did travel through parts of Appalachia in order
to gain knowledge for his comic character Snuffy Smith.
It is unlikely, though, that there were any connections
to Silas Butts. In the article, Appalachian Historian
Thomas Inge notes:
What first sparked De Beck's interest is
unknown. We do know, however, that in preparation
for the new episodes he traveled through the
mountains of Virginia and Kentucky, talked to
natives, made numerous sketches, and read everything
he could lay his hands on that treated mountaineer
life. Just how extensive and thorough his reading
was has not been generally known...174
Nonetheless, the fact that people found the thought of
Silas' inspiration of the cartoon character plausible and
talked about it played its part in the creation of local
myth and the legacy of Silas Butts. It is not all too
outrageous that Silas' character and personality could
have done this, despite the fact that they probably did
not.
Further evidence to the notion that allows the
possibility of Silas' fame to reach far beyond the
Upstate of South Carolina came from Randolph Phillips.
Mr. Phillips recalled:
Thomas Inge, "The Appalachian Backgrounds of Billy De Beck's Snuffy
Smith," Appalachian Journal 4 (Winter 1977): 121.
96
I seen a picture sometime- somewhere here
awhile back, him [Silas] and Teddy Roosevelt. Teddy
Roosevelt was... It was a shooting match somewhere
or another. And 01' Silas was in that picture- a
very young Silas... You could see that that was
Silas Butts. Ain't three or four people look like
Silas.175
Whether or not Silas did pose for a picture with Teddy
Roosevelt is unknown. However, the believability in
people's minds that this is possible is very much a part
of Silas Butt's legacy. His legacy allows for the
possibility that he is pictured with Teddy Roosevelt.
Stories of Silas visiting and being visited by the
Governor of South Carolina, Olin D. Johnston, have also
fueled and supported the legacy of Silas Butts. In an
article appearing in the Anderson Independent in 1968,
Jerry Alexander writes of some of what he calls "the true
episodes that have been almost forgotten down through the
years." He notes:
One concerned the new stetson that Silas
received from Gov. Olin D. Johnston following the
Governor's visit to Silas' mountain home... Silas
prized that black stetson more than anything else
and often showed it to his many friends. After all,
it wasn't everyday that one received a new stetson
as a gift from the Governor.
...Silas had previously met Governor Johnston
on a business trip to Columbia in which he sought
help from the Governor. According to reports, Silas
got the aid he went after. Then Silas asked the
Governor if he might sit in the Governor's chair
75 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
97
saying, "I always did want to sit in that chair."
Needless to say, this wish was granted, amidst
whoops of good-natured laughter in which, Silas
himself joined in.17S
A visit to the Governor as well as from the Governor (not
to mention the gift) illustrates the range of Silas'
legacy, even before he died.
The effort to place the Butts Farmstead on the
National Register of Historic Places also gives evidence
to Silas' lingering legacy. Although the farm was begun
by Silas' grandfather, it was the fact that Silas "turned
the place into an orphanage" that occasioned its
consideration for The National Register. The buildings at
the time included the log barn, which served as the first
house, the gristmill, the main house occupied by Silas,
his wife and the children, his schoolhouse, the corn
crib, hen house and Model T car shed.177 For whatever
reason, the farm was not accepted onto the National
Register; however, the mere fact that it was nominated
illustrates the legacy that Silas Butts left behind.
What is also interesting to note about Silas is the
differences in the stories told about him. Two of the
Alexander.
"The Butts Farmstead," nomination to the National Register of Historic Places.
98
most popular stories, told and retold for over fifty
years, are of his selling produce and liquor in town as
well as his using the kids in court to get himself free.
Many people who never knew or even saw Silas tell these
stories, so often and in so many different versions, that
it is hard to discern what really happened.
First of all, a look at the variations in the
stories of his truck farming illustrates why his legacy
lives on. Silas used everything that he could to his
advantage. The children helped him grow produce to sell,
and no doubt, helped him to make liquor in some fashion.
In turn, he used the money from selling the produce and
liquor to "support" the orphanage. Silas left an
impression on many people throughout Oconee County on his
many trips to town to sell his produce. He would travel
to mill villages in Westminster, Walhalla, Seneca and
Newry. It was his wit and humor that helped his business.
Stories about these visits to town differ in many ways.
People recall him selling produce from a wagon
pulled by horses, a wagon pulled by oxen, the rumble seat
of a car, and out of the back of a truck. When telling
this story, people almost always imitate Silas' loud,
high-pitched that seemed to travel great distances. Words
here cannot explain the similarities between the
99
imitations performed by old men and sweet old ladies
alike. However, they always rattle off a list of the
produce available, just as Silas would have done. These
include apples, cabbage, corn, beans, watermelon,
cantaloupe, green beans, Irish Potatoes, and turnips. Out
of twelve interviews, eight included some variation of
this story. Despite the differences in the produce and/or
what Silas was driving, the story almost always ends with
a pause, followed by, "...and good corn liquor!" The
variations more than likely reflect the many times that
Silas performed this act, as well as the fact that the
importance of the story is that he sold liquor, not the
produce.
Another story with as many variations as those who
tell it is the episode about Silas taking his children to
court. Yet again, Silas used all available means to keep
his life together. His liquor sales to support the
orphanage got him in trouble with the law. So, his humor
and children served him in escaping this trouble. Of the
twelve interviews, five tell of this incident. Other
stories repeated by several include Mr. Sam and Seab
cutting down one of two stills, the false report of
Silas' drowning and the incident with the stop light,
which has been told to have happened in Westminster,
100
Seneca, Anderson, and Greenville with a stop sign and a
stop light.
The variations in the stories can be attributed to
time as well as memory. Newspapers over the years that
report a certain story themselves provide different
variations. They fill in gaps in people's minds as well
as provide additional information, much of it secondhand.
However, the fact remains that these stories, variations
notwithstanding, have helped to create the legacy of
Silas Butts that began even before he died almost fifty
years ago.
These few stories that are often retold account to
only a small portion of Silas' life. Yet they often
provide the entire knowledge that is remembered about his
life. This fuels the fact that Silas is remembered for
different things. Phrases used by those interviewed
describe Silas as a "colorful character,"178 "good
personality,"179 as well as "good hearted, in ways, he was
wicked as he could be,"180 and "good to some people, some
Gladys Elliott, 17 June 2003.
Spec Jameson, 12 June 2003.
Claude Gaillard, 21 February 2003.
101
people he wasn't... He wasn't good at all."181 These views
seem to contradict one another, despite the fact that
they are about the same man. This occurs in many aspects
of Silas' life. One remembers that Silas "brought them
food one time when they were about to starve to death,"182
whereas another recalls, "my grandmother, when she lived
there, and a lot of mornings, she got up to make
breakfast, all the family had was cornbread and water
gravy. He [Silas] wouldn't let them have no food."183 This
does not sound like the same man.
In writing about the life of Silas' father, a nephew
to Silas also notes this "other side" to Silas. The story
goes that following the death of Silas' father, Silas
promised that his mother could always live there in the
house. However, Silas added a room onto the back porch
that was "5 feet wide and 7 feet long... with no window,
and a door with a slot cut in it." Apparently, Silas
intended to keep his mother locked in this "tiny room"
and send her food in through the slot.184 Yet again, this
1 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
2 Randolph Phillips, 12 June 2003.
3 Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
4 Carlie Butts, A Man Called Jake, 388-389.
102
does not illustrate the same man that people often
remember as a humanitarian.
Silas' legacy allows for this dichotomy. Isolated in
Brasstown Valley on the edge of the Appalachian
Mountains, Silas could be and most certainly was both of
these characters. Evelyn Walker clearly summed this up
when she said, "These papers here, you know, these books,
if they only knew that man for what he really was,
everything that they wrote, it wouldn't be good."185 Silas
was "no man's fool," and knew how to turn things in his
favor. After almost fifty years, his legacy does this
same thing.
Evelyn Walker, 13 June 2003.
CONCLUSION
Silas Noah Butts signed his last will and testament
on the 14th day of August, 1956. Twelve days later, he
died at his house in Brasstown of a heart attack. Lengthy
obituaries appeared that week in the local newspapers,
often on the front page. The "old man of the mountains"
had lived 76 years which encompassed the growth of an
industrial society in nearby towns, two World Wars and
the Great Depression.
Silas created and maintained a unique lifestyle. As
mentioned throughout this study, everything in his life
seemed to work together for his reputation as a local
legend. Somewhere in the midst of time and all of the
stories, Louisa Butts' name got lost. Her efforts and
accomplishments are not remembered despite her obvious
contributions to Silas' legacy. By taking in the
children, Silas fulfilled a need within the community
while at the same time, he fulfilled a need for work on
his farm. Silas would make and sell liquor to support his
"homemade orphanage" but when he found himself in trouble
with the law, it was the children that helped to get him
out of trouble. Silas built these children a school on
104
his farm but yet he could not read or write. Despite
whether he actually realized the need for education or
just used the school to sway public opinion in favor of
his humanitarian efforts, education of the children
worked to his advantage as well because people now
remember him as a good man who did good things.
Realistically, there is no doubt that Silas was not
perfect. Whether he is to be praised or blamed is beyond
the reach of this study. However, almost fifty years have
passed since his death and yet his name is known by
nearly everyone native to Oconee County. It is not so
much Silas as a man that is remembered as it is what
Silas "accomplished" that lingers today. He was a legend
long before he died and his legacy lives on. Memories
often work for another purpose besides unbiased
remembering. They often serve a purpose. The legacy of
Silas Butts, created by those who "remember" and retell
stories, serves as the transition that he represents.
Silas, "the old man from the mountains," represents a
shift from the romanticized memories of self-sufficient
living to the realities of a modern world. Whether the
"romanticized memories" and the "modern world" are truly
separate and distinct with Silas as the mediator is not
the issue. The fact that people believe that Silas'
105
legacy represents a shift between these two "worlds" has
created its own truth.
Further evidence that Silas serves as a transition
can be seen in the Butts family itself. Originally from
Ducktown, Tennnesse, his grandfather moved into the
Brasstown Valley in the early part of the nineteenth
century. This denotes a move down through the mountains.
The location of Brasstown, at the edge of the Appalachian
region also fuels the notion of Silas as a transition.
With railroads and textile mills creating towns such
nearby Westminster, Seneca and Newry in the late
nineteenth century people such as the Butts came closer
and closer to people moving westward, up through South
Carolina. Silas, therefore, was simply in the right place
at the right time to serve as this transitory figure,
exposing Appalachia to the "modern world."
There is still, for local people, a mystique about
the Butts' farm today which remains much as it was during
Silas' life. Parents still take their children up to
Brasstown to show them the house, school, grist mill or
graveyard that are all no longer in use. There is
something about the stories of Silas Butts that evokes
images of a romanticized time in history that obviously
is no more. Seeing the two rock chimneys, the huge, open
106
attic and the large, overshot waterwheel touches even the
hearts of those who never experienced this type of
lifestyle. John Bigham, the reporter from Columbia,
understood this when, in 1953, he accurately predicted,
"When Silas and Louisa are dead and gone, the stories
about them will live on and the mountain kids they have
befriended will for years to come keep their memory alive
in the foothills of the Blue Ridge."186
Bigham.
APPENDIX
[pic]
Silas Noah Butts
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
[pic]
Silas and Louisa Butts
With "Adopted" Children
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
108
109
[pic]
■
Silas Butts
Photo by Bell Studio- Early 1950s
110
[pic]
Picture that Appeared in The State in 1953
Louisa Butts on the Far Left
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
[pic]
' i
■'■■ 'i
- ... -r - - --- . '
|. | |
| | |
| | |
|■ | |
| |' |
| |' |
| |:■ • |
CM L
. .* ._ r»j >; ..' .*
The Butts' House
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
[pic]
Silas and Louisa Butts at the Well
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
Ill
112
[pic]
•*
■
"1
[pic]
Silas Noah Butts
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
[pic]
- : .
The School on the Butts' Farm
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
-
113
I
[pic]
Silas Butts at a Political Barbecue
in Oakway, South Carolina
(photo courtesy of Jerry Alexander)
114
SILAS BUTTS' CORN MILL
[pic]
Drawing by Robert Springs
115
[pic]
■ w
my.;
BP- ■' i • ;,..--'a:'' . s®''-.'''','i V,Vj
::'i'
to
[pic]
Silas Butts
Drawing by Chris Bolt
14 September 1985
[pic]
Silas Butts' Corn Mill
(photo by Cassie Robinson- 2002!
116
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