I can only echo and affirm the previous comments that historical preservation is extremely hard work in Spartanburg. This area has a long history of tearing down buildings, only to regret doing so decades later. Tim was quite accurate in characterizing this work as a “sisyphean slog.” There are so many unceasing forces in opposition that it can be extremely draining and discouraging. One of the only consolations you can get besides actually saving something is the companionship and encouragement of friends and colleagues who share your concerns.

Mr. George (that sounds so distant and unfriendly, mind if I call you Christopher or Chris?), I suspect that the folks on the “save it” side of this issue (myself included) DO appreciate a passionate, critical eye who has taken up the cause of working class issues in this community. Even when it is directed at them. But, like you, these are people who work tirelessly at the causes that interest them. So using forceful language to criticize how they do their work (which is only, fundamentally, saving, restoring, and selling houses in historic districts) is bound to stir up emotions and cause unnecessary divisions.

I would make the argument that preserving Blackwood’s house does more to preserve the memory of the 1934 strikes than tearing it down would. It might feel good for the folks affected and enraged by that terrible episode to smash up a modest 90-year old house. But when it’s gone, it’s just an empty lot, or a tiny, un-utilized park with a plaque, or a new building. People are more likely to tell stories about the places still standing that the spots where something used to be.

Let’s set aside all the miscommunication and misdirected anger and make Blackwood’s legacy as a bad governor part of the lore of the neighborhood. That adds even more to the 1930 election story that’s already a part of Hydrick Street.

“Not in a derogatory way by any means, but does your previous employment affect your judgment and reasoning in this matter?”

I didn’t see this until now (probably because it was part of a giant comment with no paragraph breaks. The “Enter” key is your friend and you should use him David), but I assume you’re referring to the fact that I’ve worked pretty much my entire life in some form of blue-collar employment. To that I would say: Why wouldn’t I let that background influence my perspective?

Socio-economic class plays a huge role in everyone’s perspective on this and I’m certainly not immune. Honestly, I care more about defending the working class–who in my opinion have been wronged in stunning ways for centuries in this county, state and nation–than I care about pretty much anything else. At the end of the day, I am a factory worker who’s also the son of a factory worker. I have seen first hand, the helplessness and hopelessness of that life. Blue-collar workers in America walk a razor’s edge perched just over the bottomless pit of poverty every day. They don’t worry about GMO’s or CFL light bulbs–not that those things aren’t worthwhile–because they’re too busy worrying about whether or not they’ll have a job next week or next month or next year.

They don’t live in fear of falling down a rung or two on the economic ladder, they live in fear of falling off of it.

They live with the constant threat that tomorrow morning when they wake up, the company may decide to pack things up and move to China, or some other country where the underclass is even more beaten down than they are. They live with wages that have been falling since the late 70’s. When the plant manager brings them into a room and tells them their health care premiums are going up at the same time their hours are going down, they cut corners if they have any left to cut, and if they don’t they’ll cut anyway. They watch as the state cuts their kids’ school’s funding and they have to just take it, because they can’t afford to send their little ones to private schools just down the street.

I’m also very much aware that I have had it far better than those blue-collar workers from generations past, and in fact it’s precisely because of things like the Honea-Path massacre, or the Ludlow Massacre, or the thousands of others who lost their lives fighting for a fair shake. My life has been easier than theirs was because of their sacrifices, and I will stand up for their memories to show my respect.

So in answer to your question David, yes my social class influences my thinking very much on the topic we’ve been discussing, but no more than your upper-middle class, white-collar, gentrification-minded, yuppie class influences your thinking. Hope that clarifies things for you.

To everyone else, I just want to reiterate that I have no particular problem with the Preservation Trust. I think they do fine work in HH. I have a problem with precisely ONE thing they’ve done, but to read some of the comments here, I’ve declared a jihad on historic preservation here in HH. To those people I say, bravo! You’ve managed to shout me down without actually dealing with my concerns. That’s no small feat in my book.

I find it interesting to say the least that a group of people who’ve been so quick to applaud my critical eye in the past, would turn so instantly sour when that critical eye is looking at one of the “clique’s” pet projects. I wouldn’t say it’s going to stop me from writing about whatever I want to write about in the future, but it does add a new perspective to my particular Spartanburg experience.

Again though, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment on this piece. Your candor has been…enlightening.

This is probably late, but I thought I would add my 2 cents. I realize this is a blog, but I find the tone of this post to be needlessly confrontational. The Preservation Trust’s clear role is to restore properties in designated historic districts. Since its inception, as Rebecca pointed out, it has been consistent in opposing the demolition of houses in Hampton Heights. The Carlisle Street and Hydrick Street efforts stretched the Trust to the limits of its capabilities, and the success of Carlisle and (ongoing) Hydrick are the product of initiative, hard work, and concern for this community.

As for 232 Hydrick, the fact that a former governor of the state lived in the house adds to the house’s signficance. Period. That this fact could aid the Trust in working to prevent its demolition in no way suggests that the Trust is attempting to whitewash another shameful aspect of this state’s history. As Phillip points out above, the history is there to be read. It’s not a secret. For the Trust to function, it must resell the houses that it renovates. Why expect it to do something out of its purview that works against its actual purpose? (“Buy 232 Hydrick. A governor once lived here! But please be aware, he was a real a-hole of a governor!”) The Trust is not committing an “intentional omission of facts” just because you assert that it is doing so. For the Trust, the relevant detail is that a former governor of the state lived there. You see, that detail touches on the house. And the houses are the focus. If Trust employees promised to include information about Blackwood’s record as governor on the website, then fine, but I don’t believe there was any historical or ethical imperative for them to do so. (I can’t comment on the SHJ articles, which I haven’t seen.)

Besides, it seems to me that two important bits of information should have tamped down your (f)ire a little bit: 1) the previously mentioned point that the Trust opposes demolition of historic houses in HH–not just 232 Hydrick; and 2) that the Trust has worked hard to get a mill village to be declared a locally designated historic district (in which the Trust could then operate). But neither of these points seems to have made a difference to you, which I don’t really understand.

I am also a member of the Trust board, and although I have missed many meetings lately and have been no more involved in conversations about 232 Hydrick than Betsy has, my recollections of our discussions of that property are just as Betsy described them. I should add as well that I’m also a historian and a (currently inactive) member of the United Food and Commercial Workers Union, and yet I don’t find the Trust’s actions to be as questionable as you do.

Finally, I have to ask about the “HH mafia” dig. What does that even mean? I live in HH, and I’ve been on the neighborhood association board. Am I a don? A stool pigeon? What am I missing here? If we HH residents seem a bit thin-skinned to you, you might step back for a moment and contemplate the thousands of hours of work that some of the commenters above have put into trying to improve Hampton Heights and Spartanburg. In comparison to others, I’ve done only a tiny fraction of that sort of work, but I’ve been involved enough to know that it usually feels like a sisyphean slog up a very steep hill. It doesn’t help when those who might be (should be/are) our friends throw rocks at us.

I never said that Blackwood was as culpable as those who were actually there doing the shooting in Honea Path that day, but with his militant anti-labor stance and his horrible decision to deputize “ordinary citizens” who turned out to be mostly a bunch of anti-union reactionaries he set the stage for what happened.

That could be passed off as a simple–if deadly–error in judgment if it weren’t for the fact that he never so much as tried to prosecute those responsible for those murders. All he cared about it seems from the record, was breaking the strike at all cost. That is what makes Blackwood truly unforgivable in my book.

I totally agree with you that a lot of people failed the textile workers in ‘34. I tried to say as much in my OP. FDR betrayed a promise to working people by not enforcing the law and allowing the powerful anti-worker interests to break a lawful strike, and that part of this equation shouldn’t be forgotten either.

In the end, it would be foolish to try to lay all the blame for what happened in SC in ‘34 on Blackwood, but as governor he fanned the flames of violence and when that violence took the lives of those who fought only for what was right, he did nothing. I will not forget that, and I will not allow others to try to hide that fact with equivocations either.

As for me calling Blackwood a “monster”, that’s my opinion on the man and I won’t apologize for it. Others are free to look at the information available and make their own judgments, though I’d note that no historian I’ve read so far has called Blackwood anything better than an anti-labor incompetent.

I appreciate your thoughtful comment Phillip.

Which historical accounts would those be Ryan?

I can cite you book, chapter, page, and paragraph for every statistic I presented in my piece if you’d like. It’s one thing if YOU disagree with my perspective, but quite another to call the historical perspective I’m presenting biased without presenting some other historical view from a reputable source. Don’t let a little thing like lack of historical proof stop you from holding your own opinion though.

“Blackwood may have felt the need to mobilize the National Guard to ‘keep the peace’.”

Oh so close there Ryan. Blackwood actually called out the National Guard before any other state governor involved with the strike. In fact, he was more militantly anti-union than any other governor, empowering sheriffs to deputize citizens, declaring martial law, etc. None of this is my opinion, it’s well documented historical fact. Now I suppose if you have some “super-secret” historical record that I’m not privy to, now would be the time to spill it. Otherwise, you’re just proving you have no idea what you’re talking about.

I think Ryan (above) makes a good point that the role of Governor Ibra Blackwood in the Textile Strike of 1934 is certainly the kind of thing that historians would debate. Historians deal in both facts and in interpretations. Sometimes the facts are clear cut, and sometimes they are not as clear cut, as point of view can dictate what gets recorded, and interpretations can diverge wildly. Bryant Simon’s 1998 book “A Fabric of Defeat: The Politics of South Carolina Millhands, 1910-1948″ tries to reconstruct the events of September 1934, and reading through those pages again reminds me how confusing and murky the events of that day were. I’d consider the sheriff of Anderson County, the leadership of the Chiquola Manufacturing Company, and the strikebreakers who were recruited from the mill village and rural areas surrounding Honea Path to be more responsible for the violence than Blackwood. Incidentally, the mill superintendent at Chiquola was also the mayor of Honea Path. If anyone has blood on his hands, it would be those people, though I am certainly not absolving Blackwood of all responsibility in what happened. Ultimately, his actions did not end up calming a tense situation, they made things worse. And that’s not what you want a leader to do. What happened on Sept. 6 had been brewing for days, there had already been fistfights, and there was basically a melee when the mill gates opened that day. Somebody fired a shot, and then people began to run, and the autopsies showed that those who were killed were shot in the back as they were fleeing. (I cite Bryant Simon’s work here as well).

I also think we have to look at the massacre (and I think that’s a fair term) in Honea Path in the context of class conflict in SC in the 1930s. We don’t talk much about conflict in history class, it makes people uncomfortable. There were certainly strong class divisions between rural farmers, middle class townspeople, and mill workers in South Carolina. Blackwood was elected by people who were opponents of organized labor, and in fact, in the 1930 election, he beat pro-labor candidate Olin Johnston, also of Spartanburg. (I use the word “beat” advisedly, because the election was most likely stolen in Charleston, and then the ballots were burned in the street to prevent a recount.) The events of September 1934 scared the heck out of people in SC. Middle-class citizens wrote Blackwood to ask him to declare martial law. Some mill executives thought the labor organizers were “anarchists.” I don’t think what the mill workers were asking for was out of line, but clearly there was a tremendous power struggle going on over issues of labor and management and class all across the country.

But out of the tragedy in Honea Path came one victory for mill workers: six days after the seven workers were killed, former mill worker (and former Hydrick Street resident) Olin D. Johnston was elected governor with over 56% of the Democratic primary vote. Spartanburg itself was, according to Bryant Simon (full disclosure, he was my master’s thesis adviser at UGA back in the 1990s) and based on other things I’ve read, a fairly pro-union county, and truthfully, remained so up through World War II. Nobody around here talks about that, which is unfortunate. I think it leads to an incomplete view of our history.

Who let the textile workers down? A whole lot of people, from FDR on down, and not just Governor Blackwood. I’d disagree with the characterization of Blackwood as a “monster” – that was the one thing that took me aback in the original post. Actually, I think Blackwood was a fairly undistinguished governor in an era where few governors were distinguished, since the legislature has always been the dominant branch of government in the Palmetto State. His reaction to the Great Depression was fairly similar to Herbert Hoover’s, though the General Assembly didn’t give him much room to operate.

Personally, I’d like to see a textile history museum in the Upcountry. I think that before every last vestige of the textile industry and mill communities has disappeared from the area that we should have some kind of site that tells their stories and shows what a working mill and a mill village were like. Reminding people that those workers were an integral part of building this community would, I think, be a worthy addition to the Upstate. And now, before this gets any longer, I yield the soapbox.

-Phillip Stone

There are more than two book out there that deal with the Honea Path riots. I would recommend visiting the South Caroliniana Library in Columbia if this is really interesting to you.

Actually, I don’t think the original post included specific information about what the strikers were fighting for. Can you believe that I actually do read on my own? Who’d of thought!

Sure, historians “could” or “would” offer completely different perspectives on the subject. Let me know when they finally do. It’s great you can make observations like this. We should try this on another historical topic–I’m sure it could be applied to just about any! I’m glad you’ve taken history classes. I’m sure you got an A–good job.

I’ve stated facts about this that I’ve read in one of the only books I could find about the subject. Where are your facts?

You should know that two different historians could take the same set of historical events and offer completely different perspectives on them based on their own research, contextual understanding, etc.

I’ve taken SC History classes at both Wofford and USC-Columbia and been a research assistant for a South Carolina historian at USC. All I meant to say is that there are some SC historians who would put Ibra Blackwood’s actions as they relate to the Honea Path textile riots in a different perspective than the blogger did.

And no I’m not going to ask my former professors to visit a local blog comments section to educate you. I really don’t know who you are, I hope you understand.

Really Ryan? How many books have you read on the strike, because I’ve read two and those were the only two I could find on the topic. You’ve written several times that you know of a different historical perspective than the one I’ve presented. By all means, enlighten me.

Really? Could you contact them and find out more of the specifics? I’m sure many of us would appreciate their insight.

We already know for a fact that Ibra Blackwood was clearly opposed to the people on strike. The people striking for hours less than 60 a week, wages more than $12 a week, and an elimination of stretch-out.

We know for a fact that he deputized people he knew would do the job, and instructed them to shoot to kill to keep strikers out of the mills. We also know that the 7 strikers were shot in their backs while trying to run away.

Did he need to shoot them himself for that to be considered blood on his hands?

I’m curious, what historians did you have in mind?

I didn’t start this with the intention of driving wedges. What I try to do here is tell truth as I see it, and sometimes that rubs people the wrong way. Things get a little heated now and then, but there’s no reason to take any of this personally. Many of the people I’ve disagreed with on this one are normally people I find myself agreeing with, and though we may not always walk in lockstep with one another, I still consider those people my ideological peers. No harm done from my perspective, and I hope the same is true for everyone else involved.

Also, I don’t think that the PT playing up the governor angle on the house as part of its historical significance is really that offensive. Just because one local blogger is offended does not mean it is an offensive act on the whole.

Also, I think it needs to be pointed out that the role that the blogger here may over-inflate the role that Ibra Blackwood played in the textile riots. There are several historians I could point to that would probably offer a different perspective about how much blood is actually on Blackwood’s hands.