Rabbit Lore #20 (1913)

The avatar this backwater blogger claims for himself now once practically served as a brand for the county. People inside Chatham county built snares for the rabbits and bred dogs to chase them; people outside the county identified the place and the people with a rare quality of rabbit that tasted particularly sweet and succulent. The Chatham rabbits swam in gravy on the table and converted readily to change for a boy's pocket, yet they remained untamed and elusive, humble but a delicacy on the most discriminating palates. Maybe the rabbit served as mascot for so long because the county was like that as a place, rustic and simple, difficult to get at, yet distinguished by a certain refinement of country living.

Since we began scampering in this blog-space we've taken care to note references to the eponymous bunny as we come upon them. These quotations went into a single ongoing post, "Rabbit Lore", and included items from the Chatham RECORD, but also the Washington Post and a transcript from the Southern Oral History Project. It was a delicious stew full of tasty bits of meat, but the problem was, the tiny link from the sidebar wasn't prominent enough.

I decided for this reason to break "Rabbit Lore" into individual posts. Now "Rabbit Lore" is a blogger label that ties the series together, and new Rabbit Lore items will appear as individual posts. Several were added in the last two days; the reader may notice the use of material from the Siler City GRIT. Chatham RECORD editor Henry A. London's Son Isaac published the GRIT 1904-1920. While reading the GRIT the lore of the Chatham rabbit crops up even more frequently than in the RECORD, including, as a closer to this post, this following advertisement from W.S. Durham, a produce merchant who bought rabbits for export.

Siler City GRIT, 1913 OCT 29:

Rabbit Lore #18 (1913)

Siler City GRIT, 1913 OCT 29, "CHATHAM RABBIT.":

The cycle of Time has once again revolved, bringing an expectanct section into its own. Even as the ancients regarded the Ides of a month, so the toothsome Chatham Rabbit, had it the power of human understanding, would with fear and trembling regard the first of November. On that day begins the assault on Bre'er Rabbit, and with dog, gun and gum the prized animal is relentlessly pursued. Even as Kentuckyians think corn in the liquid state is nowhere else as mellow, so Chathamites know that nowhere else are rabbits so prolific or as delicious as in her own confines.

In truth, Siler City is the emproium for the things "of the earth, earthy." The tang of the early mornings are reminders that hair-triggers are springing, and, in two more weeks the b-r-r of the partridge will half scare a fellow to death. But Nov. 1st is here and the rabbits will get it in the neck.

In 1910, 19671 were shipped from Siler City; in 1911, the number was 16,573; in 1912, 26,060; and in 1913, $13,979 were shipped. These figures may appear unreal, but are accurate nevertheless. They were compiled on Tuesday afternoon of each week during the game seasons from the books of the produce dealers by the editor; hence we know whereof we speak.

Rabbit Lore #16 (1913)

Chatham RECORD, 1913 NOV 19, "Chatham's Rabbit Crop":

Editor of The Record:

I noticed in the News and Observer of last week that Mr. Hayes was in Raleigh and was speaking of Chatham’s unusually good crops, and being asked how the rabbit crop was this year, replied: "I think rabbits are scarce 'round Pittsboro as I haven't seen one this season there."

I wish to state that last Tuesday eve Mr. R. B. Bennett, of Baldwin township, "set" a box and upon going to it Wednesday morning found a nice, fat hare. He reset the box and Wednesday p.m., after dark, was near the box getting some wood and found the door down. On looking he found another. He reset again and found still another on Thursday morning—three rabbits in 36 hours. This is true, and we wish to state that we don’t want Chatham to get behind in the "old reliable" crop; neither do we wart to be-excelled in sweet potatoes. There are plenty of rabbits in Baldwin township.

G.G. WARD
Rt 1, Bynum. Nov. 17.

High Strangeness: Rambler's Skeleton (1913)

[Detail from "Danjuro V as a skeleton and Iwai Hanshiro IV as Princess Sakura in the Play 'Flower of Edo: an Ichikawa Saga,'" by Katsukawa Shunsho, 1783]

Just in time for All Hallows' Eve, and thanks to Rabbit, a spooky tale from our friend the Rambler [sic throughout]:

This story is used as an illustration of one on a most respected citizen of Pittsboro. This gentleman has a summer house not far from town and occasionally stays there at night. A few nights ago he became very interested in a story he was reading. He had pulled off his shoes and was enjoying himself hugely, when, without warning, came a voice from somewhere, saying: "Sam Jones! Are you going to die here or in Pittsboro?" Sam Jones looked up expecting to see someone but he did not. Again that same voice was heard, asking the same question. This time he saw the skeleton of a man standing at the window, the mouth at work, and the arms swinging to and fro. Who would have stayed around such a place? Not I. Neither did Sam Jones. When he reached town he was nearly out of breath, and a pale, deathly look was on his face. He had run the whole distance, a mile or more, in about three minutes.

Was there a Sam Jones, or someone to whom this pseudonym was applied? Was he the victim of a practical joke? It's not beyond the realm of possibility that ol' Rambler was somehow involved, high on "Life's Elixir." Pittsboro, after all, has always been a place that requires us to make our own fun. Tweaking one of Chatham's "elites" still has its pleasures. The piece from which this passage was extracted, dated 1 October 1913, contains other, more colloquial, ghost stories. This one is so unusual that it suggests either a real paranormal occurrence or, more likely, a rascally Rambler at work.

Attention: will the owner of the skeleton or a descendant of "Sam Jones" please contact the blog. Thank you. Oh, and please give generously this Halloween. One of those little skeletons at your door might be real.

"Chatham Blockader Shot." (1913)

[The Rabbit samples stories from past issues of Chatham County's longest-running newspaper. See description of Chatham Rabbit Reads the RECORD, version 2.0.]

Here's one for the action fans. Also, fans of moralizing, finger-wagging condemnations (an H.A. London specialty. June 4, 1913):

Chatham Blockader Shot.

On Monday morning of last week a noted blockader of Bear Creek township named John Cheek was shot and captured in a raid by Sheriff Blue and deputies, of Moore county, about 10 miles northeast of Carthage.

The officers had known of the existence of this still for a long time, Cheek having negroes to run it for him and seldom going near it. The still was of eighty gallons capacity. Fifteen hundred gallons of beer were at the still when it was captured.

When the officers came upon the still Cheek and a negro were found there. They immediately retreated and began a running fire with the raiders. Cheek was armed with a Winchester and the two officers were equipped with pistols. After the running fire had continued for some time Deputy Sheriff Phillips brought Cheek down with a bullet wound through the right leg just above the knee. After overpowering the distiller Sheriff Blue went back to Carthage for a doctor, leaving Phillips with the wounded man for an hour and a half.

Until a few years ago Cheek was considered a hard-working, law-abiding man, owning a very good farm, but for some time he had been mixed up in the blockading business, had abandoned his wife and family and was a fugitive from justice. His present trouble is but the logical outcome of his career and is but another illustration of the truth that when one becomes involved in the illicit manufacture of whisky sooner or later he will have to suffer for it.

Wonder what they did with the 1500 gallons of beer? Anyway, times sure have changed -- these days the Sheriff hangs out where they make the beer, without shooting anyone. I note for the record that it looks like a sweet tea he has there. On the other hand I can say unequivocally that this blog owes its existence to legal beer.

"Chicken Eats Flies." (1913)

[The Rabbit samples stories from past issues of Chatham County's longest-running newspaper. See description of Chatham Rabbit Reads the RECORD, version 2.0.]

The Rabbit has long harbored a diabolical scheme by which I capture the world's imagination by passing off a sample of my own prose as the first two paragraphs of a long-lost Flannery O'Connor story. But I must abandon my dreams today, for I realize that I could never do any better than the following, from the RECORD of June 11, 1913:

Chicken Eats Flies.

Our venerable townsman, Capt J.J. Crump, has a pet chicken that he is raising on flies, and the chicken seems to enjoy its diet. The captain is so disabled by the wound in his leg received at the battle of Reams' Station that he walks with much difficulty and spends much of his time seated in a large armchair on the sidewalk in front of his room. One of his amusements is killing flies with a fly-swatter, at which he has become an expert, and the chicken stays near his feet and watches the movements of the fly-swatter with much interest and quickly seizes and swallows every fly that is hit.

It is quite amusing to see that chicken watch the fly-swatter and pounce upon the smitten fly. It is very tame and does not become frightened at the approach of strangers.

As in an O'Connor story, the thing one loves must be lost forever within two weeks, no more (June 25):

Pet Chicken Dead.

We regret to announce the death of the pet chicken of Capt. J.J. Crump, of this place, mention of which was recently made in these columns. It is not known whether too large a consumption of flies was the cause of death. To console him for the loss of his pet the captain has adopted another pet chicken which he is also feeding flies, and it is hoped that this diet will not have the same fatal results as on the former chicken.

(Honest, I wrote all of this post up to here before I read on Wikipedia that when she was five, Flannery O'Connor taught a chicken to walk backwards. Or that her chicken appeared in newsreels around the country and she said, "That was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. It's all been downhill from there." You have no reason to believe this, I know. But it's wondrous true.)

Rabbit Lore #11 (1913)

Chatham RECORD, 1913 JAN 15, "Chatham Rabbits Electrocuted":

From Raleigh News & Observer,

The electrocution of one hundred rabbits Tuesday morning on the lot of the Buckhorn Power company's property is a Chatham rabbit story that former Representative R.H. Hayes, tells with full comprehension of its astoundingness.

The superintendent of this transmission company has been greatly worried by the Chatham rabbits, which have made depredations upon his cabbage patch and utterly annihlated his prospects for food. Last week set "hollows" for them, but the rabbits demurely dodged the dead fall. It made him mad, and built an expensive barbed wire fence about the patch. The wires pulled together so ingeniously that when Brer Rabbit bounded up he got stuck and when he started to crawl through the barbs harpooned him. The Buckhorn superintendent then threw the electric current into the wires. Tuesday morning the rabbits, making an effort to escape, jumped against the fence and were shocked to death. One hundred were found by the fence that morning.