Brewton is located in south central Escambia County of which it is the county seat. The founding fathers decided to locate the city between two creeks, Murder and Burnt Corn, just a short distance from where the two join and flow into Conecuh River. The city was named after the first station master for the railroad that splits the city in half, Edmund Troupe Bruton. A misspelling of the name changed its name to Brewton.
This location puts the city in the middle of a flood plain. Numerous floods have occurred over the y
ears. The most famous one was in 1929 when torrential
rains fell on South Alabama for several days and a dam across Conecuh River
near Andalusia gave way flooding the flat lands along the way, backing the two
creeks into Brewton. Pictures of the '29 flood can be seen in 'Ole Willie's
Restaurant at the corner of St Joseph and Bellville. (St Joseph Street in Brewton as it looks
today (in 2004).....standing in front of where Ritz Theatre once stood,
looking east from the corner of St Joseph Street and St Nicholas Ave. The
store across the corner was Everage's Department Store. The three story
building on the right was Robbin's & McGowin's Department
Store..)The two creeks, Murder and Burnt Corn have a bit of history. Just as the war of independence was coming to an end, Colonel Kirkland, a British officer, along with his son, nephew and several others were traveling from South Carolina into the Pensacola, Florida area which was controlled by Spain. There they planned to acquire passports and continue into New Orleans. Alexander McGillivary, chief of the Creek nation, sent an escort to protect them on their journey from what is now the Montgomery/Wetumpka area to Pensacola. When they reached a large creek near where it flowed into Conecuh River, they met a party of renegade Indians and whites returning from a trading trip to Pensacola. The colonel and his party crossed the creek and camped for the night. About midnight as the colonel's party was sleeping, the renegades sneaked into their campsite, took all their monies and killed all but three blacks, one of which was a slave that belonged to McGillivary. When the chief heard what happened he instituted a search for the guilty parties. Only one, a white man called the Cat, was caught. McGillivary had Le Clerc Milfort, "tustenuggee" (Grand Chief of War) in the Creek militia (and brother-in-law of the chief), take him to the same spot on the bank of the creek where the crime was committed and hang him from the tree where the colonel's party died. The creek became known as "Murder Creek".
The battle of Burnt Corn Creek was the first of the many battles of the Indian wars that were fought about the of 1812-14.
My family moved to Brewton in 1939 to a farm on the Ridge Road about seven miles east of Brewton. My father had been working my grandfather's farm just north of Andalusia. My Grandmother passed away in 1938 and the farm was sold to my Aunt Pearl Kinder. Buford, Ida and the five kids moved on to Brewton.
I was enrolled into the third grade at W. S. Neal school in East Brewton. I liked this much better than going to school in Andalusia. In Escambia County there were school busses to ride. We had to walk a couple of miles each way to school in Andalusia.
Ten years later with the good graces of some of the teachers I graduated from W. S. Neal High
School. After graduation I went to work for the local
newspaper, The Brewton Standard, as a reporter. Not much pay in those days but
I got to wear a white shirt and tie. A year later I enlisted in the Army and
left Brewton. (Photo
of the author as a reporter for the Brewton Standard, ca.
1949.)Following the expiration of my contract with the Army I settled in Bellevue, Washington until my retirement and return to Brewton in the fall of 1984 to spend some time with my father.
Though the cities more than doubled in population during those years, their general character still remains much the same.
Over the years Brewton has had perhaps more than its share of "colorful characters". That's what this tale is about. Some of the names have been changed for this story.
My best friend in high school, Tommy Williams, also joined The Standard staff and worked in the printing plant.
Tommy was a little over six feet tall with a muscular build and looked a great deal like L'il Abner from the comics. His action around the ladies was much the same. He was just plain bashful. The senior prom in high school was pure agony for him. I recall him asking me if we were suppose to buy our dates a "corset" (corsage).
The secretary and bookkeeper for The Standard at that time was Elizabeth Wiggins. She had what you might call a "crush" on Tommy. It was rather frustrating for her as she could get no response from him. She referred to herself as "Daisy Mae".
My usual greeting to her each morning was "How's L'il Abner and Daisy Mae?" This went on for several months until one morning she answered me with a big smile "He ain't L'il Abner any more!"
From this humble beginning Tommy blossomed and went on and on and on.
Renewed my acquaintance with Tommy in May of 1985. He is now a barber in the Mobile area. He tells me he has been married five times over the years but thinks this one will stick.
Murder and Burnt Corn creeks are larger that a lot of rivers I've seen. There is good fishing in them for catfish, bass and bream (sunfish to those people outside the South).
During the forties there was a Billy Johnson that fished the two creeks for a living. Billy was a bit simple minded and could not hold a regular job. But he managed to survive on his fishing activities.
After a morning's fishing, Billy would walk the streets of Brewton and sell his catch to anyone that would buy.
The City of Brewton, like most cities at that time, dumped its untreated sewage into the nearest
stream. One such line emptied into Murder Creek near the
bridge to East Brewton and another went into Burnt Corn close to the L&N
trestle below US Hiway 31. Most people fished above these areas but not
Billy....That's where he fished. (Photo on right is
Murder Creek where it flows between Brewton & East
Brewton.)So the story goes, one day Billy was peddling his fish downtown and approached one of Brewton's leading citizens to make a sale. The gentleman declined with the remark, "Billy, those fish are full of s...!" To which Billy replied, "Huh, so are you!" Unruffled, he continued on to sell his catch.
A couple of the most colorful characters I knew in the area were Janice Jones and her brother J. R. Watson.
Janice, along with her husband, Donald and their two children, Susan & William, lived about a mile down the Jay Road. She was the daughter of John and Annie Watson. Uncle John and Miss Annie, as they were called, lived next door to the Watson.
Uncle John for many years was one of the local "moon shiners". Janice and J. R. took a liking for corn squeezings during those years. Any time a revenue agent was in the neighborhood, Miss Annie poured all the white lightning they had in the house into the well water bucket. This bucket was kept in full sight of everyone on a shelf at the edge of the back porch. Janice and J. R. knew they could help themselves to the contents of the bucket as long as the revenue agent was there. Uncle John or Miss Annie couldn't say a word. By the time the agent would leave the two of them would be roaring drunk.
This liking for booze continued into adult life for both of them.
During the late thirties and early forties most of the country people around Brewton were farmers. There were only a couple of industries in the city, T. R. Miller Mill Co, a lumber company, and Bonita Ribbon Mills. The economy was predominantly farm oriented. The farmers would work all week long plowing the fields behind mules. Tractor? Who could afford one?
Come Saturday morning the whole family got spruced up and headed for Brewton by car, mule and wagon or walking, whichever way they could afford. Saturday was the big day in Brewton.
By the time the stores opened about 8:00AM the streets were jammed with people. If enough money was available for admission to the Ritz Theater the kids would be deposited at the movies to watch such stars as Hoot Gibson, Hopalong Cassiday, Gene Autry and Johnny Mack Brown along with the latest thrilling, cliff hanging chapter of the current serial.
Saturday was Janice Jones' day to howl. She would be there when the stores opened and often would still be there when they closed at nine or ten o'clock that night. By the end of the day Janice would be in rare form from the bottles she purchased from the Green Front (state liquor store).
When Janice decided to head for home she would aim her car in the direction of the Murder Creek Bridge and put the accelerator to the floorboard.
She had a running contest with the East Brewton Police. They would get behind her shortly after she came roaring over Murder Creek Bridge and would chase her to the city limits on Hiway 41. As soon as she crossed the city limit line she would stop her car, get out and thumb her nose at the policeman (at that time, the police could not go outside the city limits). As near as I know they never caught her.
Across the road from the Jones, off the road a ways lived the Bettis family. Mother, Father, Narv and his wife Magdalene and Robert, the youngest son. Robert was fifteen or sixteen years old at the time but was somewhat retarded.
Every Saturday Robert would spend just about all day at the Ritz watching the movies over and over again. The Lone Ranger seemed to be his favorite. After each Masked Man movie Robert could be seen running up and down the sidewalks on St Joseph Street, jumping high in the air and shouting, "HI HO SILVER, AWAY!"
Janice had a sister named Callie. She was married to Albert Putman and lived about two miles from Janice on Travis Road at Travis Mill Creek. Another sister was Sarah who lived somewhere in North Alabama and another brother named Tom who lived in the Brewton area.
Miss Annie passed away in the mid forties. The day before the funeral all the Watson children were gathered at the family home. J. R., as usual, was drunk. With him in this condition the rest of the family would have nothing to do with him. This upset Jay. He began to cry, "Nobody loves me, I think I'll go home and kill myself". No one paid him any mind.
He lived in a small house about a quarter of a mile from the family home. The Town of Riverview water works is now located where his house stood. A short time after he left the sound of a shotgun blast was heard from his direction. Someone screamed, "My God, he's done it!"
A group of them headed down the road to his house. When they got there, J. R. was quietly sitting in the backyard picking a chicken!
The day of the funeral they carried Miss Annie to the cemetery on the banks of Travis Mill Creek across the road from Callie and Albert's house.
Callie was crying and carrying on at the funeral. She would moan over and over again, "Oh, if I could see my mama just one more time". Albert got tired of listening to her, poked her in the ribs and said, "If you'd open your eyes and look you could see her"
Mag Bettis loved to visit. Rumor was that which ever way her shoes were pointed when she got out of bed in the morning is the direction she went for the day.
Mornings when her shoes were pointed to the east, she would stop by my family's home. She never knew when to leave and usually stayed all day. At meal times, out of courtesy, she was always asked to join the meal. She would say she wasn't hungry as she pulled a chair to the table and loaded her plate.
One particular occasion when Mag was at our house, J. R. also stopped by and was talking about his morning fishing trip. My mom asked him if he caught anything. He replied, "Two or three about the size of my peter". Mag laughed, HO,HO, HO. That made you a BIG mess didn't it?
Narv got drafted during WWII. Well, almost did. He was called up for a physical examination. He had several things wrong with him in addition to being a bit off center. During the examination, according to Narv, the doctor commented, "That's the dirtiest rear end I have ever seen". To which Narv replied, "It outa be, I been using it fer thirty five years". Narv spent the rest of the war years cutting timber and tarwood in the Conecuh River swamps.
When J. R. settled in to do some serious drinking he loved to get in his car and drive. On one such occasion he wound up in Atmore, a city about thirty miles west of Brewton. He evidently realized that he had too much to drink. He stopped and called the Alabama Highway Patrol and requested they clear the streets of Flomaton, a small town halfway between Atmore and Brewton. He was coming through.
His request was honored. When he got to Flomaton there was no one on the main highway through town except the Highway Patrol. They "escorted" him to the county jail in Brewton.
There was a man called Peanut Adams and his wife Mary. He must have had another name but as near as I know no one knew what it was. They both walked to a different drum beat. Peanut, as the name suggests, sold boiled and "parched" peanuts around town from a wicker basket he carried on his arm.
Mary was insanely jealous of Peanut.
One day Janice decided to have some fun with them. She walked along the sidewalk next to Peanut for a while. Mary followed closely behind obviously burning with jealousy. Janice then stopped and told Mary that she and Peanut were going "juking" that night. The last anyone saw of Peanut that day was as he went over Murder Creek bridge with Mary beating him over the head with her purse.
Brewton did not have a supermarket in those days. Some cities might have but not Brewton. There was an "A&P" but it, too, was a small grocery store the same as others. There is a difference. In the grocery store all the items for sale such as canned goods, produce and staple items were on shelves behind a long counter. You gave the clerk your list and he filled your order while you talked to him or with others in the store.
"Peck" Garrett owned such a store on Mildred Street. Citron melons were not a common sight in the area but Mr. Garrett had a few of them in his store. If you are familiar with these melons you know that they can be dropped and will not burst open like a watermelon. That is unless they are near to rotting.
Joe Adams lived in a fine home in Brewton. New white carpeting had just be installed in the living room. Joe had seen people bouncing the citrons in Peck Garrett's store. What fun it would be, he thought, to take one of them home and drop it on the new carpet in front of his wife. Melon in hand, Joe entered the house calling his wife to see what he had brought home. With a fake trip he tossed the citron to the middle of the room. It took him several days to clean the carpet.
J. R. decided to open a beer joint. What this meant was he took the front room of his house and made it into a place where you could buy a beer and sit for a while. Only problem was Jay drank more than his customers.
One afternoon after work Bruner Wilson and a co-worker stopped by J. R.'s Place for a cool one. He was in no shape to sit up let alone sell beer. "Sorry, fellas" he said, "You're too drunk for me to sell you anything." They hadn't had a drop all day.
Another local beer joint was Albert's Place owned by Albert and Callie Putman. As you recall, Callie is a sister to Janice and J. R.
Gladys and Bruner Wilson were sitting in Albert's Place one night. J. R. walked in and sat down with them. He wasn't drunk. Yet.
Shortly afterwards a well dressed gentleman walked in, sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He produced a beautiful beer stein to drink from. J. R.'s eyes lit up. He liked the stein.
J. R. was a huge man, about six feet, seven inches tall and weighed well over 250 pounds. He wasn't fat either, just muscle. If there ever was anyone that looked like the Sasquatch of the Pacific Northwest mountains it was J. R. Watson. He looked fearsome to anyone that didn't know him.
He whispered to Gladys and Bruner, "Watch me git that mug".
He got up, walked to the bar and sat next to the man with the stein. With a smile J. R. asked, "Buy me a beer, mister?' The gentleman took one look at J. R. and ordered another beer. J. R. picked up the stein, began drinking beer from it and again smiled at the man. The stranger left without his stein.
You know what chitterlings are? In the South they're called chittlins. They are considered a delicacy by many people in all walks of life in South Alabama. In fact I suspect that chittlins have been served in silver chaffing dishes in the most elegant homes on Bellville Avenue. Now keep this in mind.
One of the most respected couples in Brewton is Sam and Lucille Busey. Sam was Mr. Coca Cola in Escambia County for many years. He was the manager of the Coca Cola Bottling Company in Brewton until its consolidation with the plant in Andalusia. Sam continued on as distribution manager until his retirement in the late seventies. Lucille, for as long as I can remember, has been involved with charity, church and volunteer work in Escambia County. Several years ago she was named Escambia County Outstanding Woman of the Year, an honor well deserved.
Sam was born and raised near Frisco City, Alabama. He came to Brewton early in adult life to work for the Coca Cola Company.
Ada Dawson, known locally as Miss Ada, operated a boarding house on Ann Street where the rear of Watson English Hardware now stands. Miss Ada set a fine table. Anyone who was anyone ate dinner at Miss Ada's. Dinner in the South is the noon meal. She had two children, Pete and Lucille.
When Sam came to Brewton he was a regular at Miss Ada's table. He took a liking for Lucille and soon was a member of the family.
Sam, being raised in the Alabama River swamps, was country through and through. He loved to hunt and fish. Heaven only knows how many deer, turkey and quail he and my father bagged during their long friendship that continues to this day.
Sam also liked chittlins.
Chittlins were not a usual fare on Miss Ada's table. Sam took a hankering for some and brought them home for Miss Ada to cook.
Dinner time rolled around. Sam looked over the table but no chittlins could be seen. He turned to Miss Ada and ask, "Where's my chittlins?" Miss Ada replied with, "What's that , Sam?" Next time the question was a bit louder and again Miss Ada's reply was the same. All the while she's hoping Sam will take the hint and shut up. Sam would not. Again he ask, "Where's my chittlins? You know, HOG BOWELS?" History does not record Miss Ada's reaction to this.
My father operated approximately 200 acres of farmland during the war years (WWII), raising mostly vegetables for the local grocery stores. About ninety percent of the town of Riverview and a portion of the Brewton Municipal Airport are located where the farm was then.
Farming that many acres with mules required more help than our family could provide as my older sister left home in the early forties to attend nursing school and my brother went into the army shortly afterwards.
Papa John Buckner, his wife Elsie and three of their children lived on and helped with the farm. They had moved to Brewton from somewhere in the Raccoon Mountains in North Alabama. Southern gospel music was a part of their lives. Papa John would play the guitar and sing bass, Ma Elsie would sing alto and the kids joined in wherever their voice range was. I had never heard music like that before and I have loved it since that time.
In the summer when the fishing was good, my father would often be away on fishing trips. Papa John was left in charge of the field work while he was gone
In addition to vegetables we also raised cotton. My back still hurts every time I drive past a cotton field even though I know they don't pick it the same as we did then.
One summer during cotton picking time, Narv and Mag Bettis hired on to help. Papa John was in charge of the pickers. One day Narv had to leave early for some reason no longer remembered. When Mag got home that night she told him that Papa John had ask her for some loving. Narv walked the mile to Papa John's house and confronted him with what Mag had said. "Why of course not, Narv", Papa John told him. "But if I had it would have been all right wouldn't it?" "Why shore", Narv smiled in reply and walked the mile back home.
Brewton had a professional baseball team. Yes indeed it did! The Brewton Millers. Class D professional baseball. That's where younger players, some barely past puberty, began the long road upward to bigger teams and the older players that couldn't or wouldn't give up worked their way down to the rocking chair. But it WAS professional baseball. The stadium was located where ADICO is now.
I remember going to some of the games with my father, a rabid baseball fan. Don't remember how well they played but perhaps a good indication was the league had a rule that if anyone hit the umpire with pop bottles a stiff fine was levied against the home team. The rule also included physical assault by the fans.
J. M. Enfinger, bookkeeper for Cedar Creek Store Company was the treasurer of the club.
One night the umpire was evidently making some questionable calls. The fans began hurling pop bottles along with comments on the umpire's ancestry onto the field. Mr. Enfinger, knowing the club's financial status, ran onto the field, stood between the umpire and the stands. "Please don't hit the umpire!", he yelled at the top of his voice, "If you gotta hit somebody, hit me!"
These incidents took place during the time I was growing up in the Brewton area or shortly after I left with the army. One might think that in this modern day these things no longer happen.
Wrong.
Gopher turtles, in recent years, have almost become extinct in Alabama. They rank high as a gourmet meal and are delicious most any way you want to fix them. My favorite is with dumplings. They are now a protected species and it is against the law to have one in your possession.
Bruner Wilson and his family would rather have gopher for dinner than prime rib and lobster.
Rueben Blackwell was, for many years, employed by T. R. Miller Mill Co. His job was to grade all the backwoods roads on the thousands of acres of timberlands owned by the company. Gophers are a dry land turtle and are sometimes found along the backwoods roads. Rueben, a neighbor of the Wilson family, would pick them up, put them in a box on the grader and drop them off at the Wilsons on his way home.
One of the social events in those days was known as a peanut boiling. The Wilsons had a peanut boiling planned. Bruner had filled up the back of his pickup with peanuts on the vine and was picking them when Rueben dropped by with three gophers.
Rather than stop to clean the gophers, he put them in a metal wash tub at the edge of the patio and went back to picking peanuts.
Gophers have long toenails designed for digging holes in the ground. Inside a metal wash tub they make quite a racket trying to scratch their way out.
A short time later Clyde Baggett drove in and parked his vehicle between Bruner's pickup and the tub of gophers. Clyde is one of those individuals that will work hard for six months or so and then will drink just as hard for the same length of time. This day he wasn't working........
Inside his vehicle in addition to his bottle there were two paper sacks. One had Vienna sausages, cheese and sardines inside. The other contained crackers to go with the contents of the first sack. Clyde sat inside his truck while talking to Bruner. All the while the gophers are busy trying to scratch their way out of the tub. After a few minutes of conversation Clyde stopped in the middle of a sentence and picked up one of the bags. Piece by piece he took out the contents and placed them on the seat, turned the bag upside down, shook it and looked inside. He put each item back inside the sack and proceeded to do the same thing with the other sack. Conversation resumed for a few more minutes then Clyde stopped again and went through the same procedure. This happened a couple more times during his visit.
Finally Clyde could take no more. He looked at Bruner and said, "Bruner, there something in here in one of these bags a scratching and trying to git out and git me and I cain't find it!"
By this time Bruner was laughing so hard he couldn't tell Clyde what it was.
During the winter months when the weather is cold and the rivers that run into Pensacola Bay are low, there is a fish, Spectacled Trout (Spotted Weakfish) ,that moves into the bay and gathers around the mouth of the rivers. That's when you fish for them. They put up a good fight when you hook them and they are also excellent eating.
During WWII Pete Davis lost one of his legs. He was fitted with an artificial leg and was reasonably mobile with it. Pete was also a rascal. There wasn't too many sins that Pete wasn't guilty of. Pete believed in enjoying his life to the fullest.
During the period that my father ran a grocery store/service station there was a Mr. Jackson that was a sales rep for a grocery distributing company. He was just the opposite of Pete Davis. He was a pillar of the community, attended church regularly and was a gentleman in the truest sense. But he and Pete shared a common passion.......fishing for Speckled Trout. They fished together.
One Monday morning after the two had made a fishing trip to the bay on Saturday, Mr. Jackson stopped by to take orders for the weekly delivery of groceries. Buford ask him about the fishing trip. Mr. Jackson answered, "Well, we got to the mouth of Blackwater and as I was getting the boat anchored Pete threw out his line and hooked one right away. He threw back out and immediately caught another one. In my hurry to get my line out, I got it tangled up and every time I looked at Pete, that 'peg-legged son-of-a-bitch' had another one on!"
Then there was the daring robbery of the bank in Castleberry in 1984. OK, so that happened in Castleberry, Ala, you say. Yes it did but is was a man by the name of Blair (no kin) that almost pulled off this daring deed.
This would be bank robber evidently needed the money to finance his continual drinking habit. He pulled in front of the bank, parked his car and with paper sack and gun in hand strolled into the bank.
"This a stickup", he said to the teller. "Put all your money into this sack." "I'm sorry sir, we don't have any left. We've loaned it all out" she replied. "Oh, darn", he said as he threw his gun and paper bag across the floor and left the building. Wouldn't you know that with his luck his car wouldn't start. When the highway patrol arrived he was sitting on the curb sucking on a bottle of vodka. They are still trying to dry him out at Mt. Meigs.
Brewton had its heroes too. In the early 1800's until about 1835, William B. Travis of the Alamo fame lived in the area that is now Escambia County. There was Pete Dawson (Miss Ada's son) and Earl Waters, two local men that were highly decorated during WWII. Brewton and Escambia County is the home of William Lee Golden of the Oakridge Boys quartet and Hank Locklin, country entertainer.
Many good things have happened around Brewton during its first 100 years but these are well documented in the news media and need not be reviewed in this story.
Are these stories true? They most certainly are! The people are real although some names have been changed to protect their descendants. Some of them are no longer with us, some have moved to other cities and some still live in Brewton.
So, Brewton you have had a colorful past one hundred years filled with your serious moments and a bit of humor now and then. Continue into the next 100 years looking back and laughing. It will keep you from forgetting your heritage.
