“USED TO BE A ROUGH PLACE IN THEM HILLS”

On a warm summer Sunday in 1891, parishioners of Greenville County’s Mountain Hill Church began to arrive from the small farms that dotted the coves of Hogback and Glassy Mountain. It was the twenty-third of August and the church, an old log and stone structure, had been opened earlier that morning to circulate air throughout the sanctuary. As many were standing around talking about the week’s events that ranged from the progress of the corn crop to weather, Richard Gosnell traversed the churchyard. In route from his buggy with a bottle of wine for the communion service, Gosnell passed the Howard clan. Reputedly, the Howards and the Gosnells had no love lost for one another, and each family kept their eyes open for an opportune time to insult the other.

         As Gosnell walked passed the Howards, Joshua Howard called out to Richard, “do you mean to slight me and mean that as an insult?” Ignoring the bait, Gosnell continued towards the sanctuary. As Gosnell prepared to enter the church, James Howard produced a revolver and shot at him. The bullet, missing Gosnell, lodged in the exterior wall of the church. What followed was a melee that has been engrained in the folklore of the South Carolina mountains ever since.

            The shot fired by Howard was the inaugural action in a general row that had been building for sometime. Richard Gosnell’s daughter had been recently beaten in the church yard by Babe Durham, the employer of Joshua Howard. Luther Durham, another member of the clan, was working as a magistrate and had a warrant in his possession for James Howard. According to the warrant, authorities wanted him for the disruption of a congregational meeting at the very same church a few weeks earlier.

As the first shots rang out, many of the male parishioners sprang for cover and produced firearms of their own. In the skirmish that followed, the Howards were supported by members of the congregation with whom they had family ties. The majority of parishioners who witnessed the aggression reacted in self-defense. The Durhams, seeing an opportune time to settle old scores, began to fire in a multitude of directions. Although the Howards initiated the conflict, the result was not to their advantage.

            After the smoke cleared, it was obvious that the Howards had taken the brunt of the fight. In a fire-fight that saw upwards of fifty rounds exchanged, several parishioners lay wounded in the churchyard. Joshua Howard had been pierced by a ball, which had entered his back, and he would die early Monday afternoon. His brother Tim had taken a non-fatal round to the head, while Dick Howard had been shot in the arm. Luther Durham had fared no better than the other participants after being gut shot, while also catching a ball directly in the mouth severing his tongue. To round out the carnage a supporter of the Gosnell’s, Sherman Bridgeman, had been slightly wounded with a grazing shot to the head.

            All interviewed following the fight noted that the incident was a direct result of an altercation between the Howards and the Gosnells on the previous Saturday evening. Most of the participants, still drinking as of Sunday morning, had arrived at the church to settle the affair. Little was done in the way of law enforcement. As the sheriff attempted to make an inquest into the event, he was welcomed at the border of the community by an armed posse and persuaded to turn back towards his office in Greenville.

This particular anecdote is indicative of a phenomenon that once occurred frequently in northwestern South Carolina. As South Carolina emerged as a pillar of antebellum Southern culture; another community, almost the polar opposite of the dominant ideology of the Palmetto State, was nestled in an isolated region of the State. While the majority of South Carolina developed a deep market economy that hinged on the cultivation of cotton through chattel slavery and a paternalist society that became unified from the coast to the foothills, one small segment of the State’s population took a direction that differed from their fellow Carolinians. This collection of people could be found nestled in a far removed corner of the State; the “Dark Corner.”