The Great Coharie: Stories of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

By James A. Smith

The Great Coharie River, named for an Indian tribe, became a place of retreat and solitude for author James A. Smith. This was where he felt at ease and could become one with nature. It was the place where he was accepted without criticism. And it was his safe place, away from beatings he had come to expect.

The Great Coharie: Stories of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption is Smiths personal account of the severe abuse he experienced as a child. Raised in poverty by a bootlegger, Smith endured physical and emotional child abuse as well as impossible work demands. This is the story of how he coped with the situation and how he continues to cope even today with deep and traumatic scars.

This personal history also seeks to offer hope. Smith makes vulnerable youth aware of the brutality he suffered while simultaneously acknowledging ways to possibly avoid uninvited harshness. He helps people realize they do not have to accept the label of victim and that they do not have to be defined by their childhoods. There is help available for those in need. Seek this help without fear of retaliation, and you, too, can be a survivor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Nov 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781458207784

James A. Smith

Jim Smith is president of Negotiating Strategies in Durham, North Carolina. Prior to formation of his company, Jim was employed by several Fortune 500 companies. His role in these organizations was major cost reductions, which he achieved mostly through direct negotiations with suppliers. His success in reducing operating costs established him as a highly respected and desirable purchasing manager. Jim brings much of his knowledge to you in this highly acclaimed book.

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Copyright © 2013 James A. Smith.

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-0777-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0778-4 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0779-1 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900272

Abbott Press rev. date: 11/6/2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Summary

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1     Frigid Night On The River

Chapter 2     Special Delivery

Chapter 3     The River Speaks

Chapter 4     A Stormy Night

Chapter 5     Runaway

Chapter 6     Bootlegging A Reality

Chapter 7     The Terrible Storm

Chapter 8     Mulberry Bush

Chapter 9     Christmas Remembered

Chapter 10   Treasured Companion

Chapter 11   Fish Stories

Chapter 12   The Flood

Chapter 13   The Sly Surprise

Chapter 14   Growing Up Young

Chapter 15   Death Arrives

Chapter 16   Living Off The Land

Chapter 17   Time Of Finality

Chapter 18   A Change Of Life

Chapter 19   Another World, Another Time

Chapter 20   The Way We Were

Chapter 21   The North African Saga

Chapter 22   A Rabbit Tale

Chapter 23   Absent Within Myself And The World

Chapter 24   I Remember

Chapter 25   Faith

Author of

Life As A Moonshiner’s Son

SUMMARY

This book is comprised of two parts;

PART ONE

Chapters 1 through 18

This part portrays the first seventeen years of the author’s life. It addresses adversities confronted by him and the influence of challenges on his young life. The author was the victim of substantial child abuse at the hands of a family member. He was confronted with frequent hunger and inadequate clothing for adverse weather. Child protective services and law enforcement did not adequately protect this young boy from beatings and abuse which linger to this day in the form of scars on his body and his mind. He witnessed drunkenness in its most devastating form and observed how moonshine was a substantial ingredient in tearing a family apart.

PART TWO

Chapters 19 through 25

Describes a few significant events which occurred past the author’s age of seventeen. Also covered is an episode from the war in Vietnam, severe depression plus a tragic event on a frozen lake.

This book is DEDICATED to my wife, Nancy

Your encouragement, support and patience were truly instrumental in making this book a reality.

To BETTY WICKHAM, an incredibly talented woman who helped made this book a success. I am deeply grateful for her encouragement, dedication, friendship, knowledge and commitment

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To Doctor Laurie

You helped me restore my life. You stuck with me when others would not have been so patient.

I miss you

"Promise me you’ll always remember,

you’re braver than you believe,

you’re stronger than you seem,

and smarter than you think"

(To Winnie the Pooh)

I remember

TO MY FRIEND HENRY BRYANT –

located after my fifty year search

INTRODUCTION

NOTE: This book recognizes the Coharie Indian tribe which resides in the Sampson County area of Southeastern North Carolina. The river featured in several chapters is named after this tribe and is commonly known as the

GREAT COHARIE RIVER

M uch has been written about poverty in the south. Much less has been written about growing up in abject poverty in the south. Even less has been written about parents in this environment who were addicted to alcohol and suffered from depression. Very little has been written about the impact of illegal alcohol on a family in poverty. This illegal and cheap whiskey – commonly called moonshine – was the path my parents chose to escape reality. The impact on the children was devastating.

I grew up in a family that was ruled by illegal whiskey. In my early years, I did not understand that this was unusual. In fact, it seemed almost common place. Often, my sisters and I were left to survive without parental supervision, even when we were not old enough to take care of ourselves.

I experienced hunger in the most severe form. I learned at a very early age that dealing with hunger was often left to my own ingenuity, and that my well being and support of my sisters largely depended on my own creative, and sometimes a cunning approach to survival. I cannot count the numerous occasions when I became the sole provider of food for the family and the source of warmth in the frigid winters of southeastern North Carolina. Mine was a dysfunctional family in the truest meaning of the word.

Early on, before getting too involved in the introduction, I want to emphasize that I knew little about my parents and adverse events that may have occurred in their lives. It is entirely possible that knowledge of their early years would have provided clues regarding their aberrant behavior. I do know that my grandmother suffered through a horrible divorce when my mother was only twelve years. My mother and grandmother moved in with my mother’s uncle.

The fact that my grandmother committed suicide when my mother was sixteem had to be devastating. She drank a bottle of Lysol, all over my grandmother’s strong objection to my mother’s planned wedding to my father. I cannot imagine a more horrible death than being eaten from the inside, because Lysol eats flesh like acid. I never knew my grandparents on either side of the family.

There isn’t much to say about my father. I once met a half sister briefly, but did not meet any other relatives. In fact, I’m not sure he had other living relatives. He was an intelligent person, even though he dropped out of school in the second grade to satisfy his father’s demands for more labor on the tobacco farm in Bladen County. He excelled at any challenge. However, he was mean, very mean. I still have scars from beatings he delivered to me. I learned early on to stay away from him, to hide someplace when he was drinking. I often hid under the bed to avoid him, or in the barn, or under the dining table, any place I could feel safe, if only for a short while. I wonder if this brutality influenced my ability to successfully interact with others later in life. Growing out of my shyness was a massive challenge that transcended many years.

My father was a moonshiner. In fact, his distribution base reached across county lines and covered most of southeastern North Carolina. He drove a beefed up Ford sedan with heavy duty springs to avoid detection. A sagging load was a sure giveaway that the driver was probably hauling a heavy load of whiskey. He was frequently chased but never caught by Federal Revenue Agents, who were also known as the Feds. Incidentally, he inadvertently contributed to the formation of NASCAR as did other moonshiner’s who outran the Feds in their modified Fords.

My father made large profits from the illegal whiskey business. However, he periodically spent all of his money when he went on multi-week binges. Extramartial affairs also drained his wallet. That left very little money for essentials, including food and clothing.

I remember going with my father to see a prostitute when I was five years old. He left me in the hot car all afternoon in Wilmington on Front Street and into the evening as he enjoyed himself in the house. When he left the house I observed him kissing the scantily clad woman in the street light.

I recall frequently going to bed hungry. I recall days when the chickens laid only one egg (we had eaten almost all the chickens). This usually meant that one egg often mixed with corn bread – had to feed six people.

On most days, I did not have twenty cents to buy lunch in the school cafeteria, nor did I have food to take from home. When I was in this situation, with no food or money for school lunch, I would hide in the boy’s restroom when the students lined up for lunch. I would remain in the restroom until the lunch period ended, thus avoiding embarrassment and unkind words from the students. In the eighth grade the school allowed me to wash dishes in the cafeteria in exchange for my lunch.

When my parents were drunk, which was often for weeks at a time, we usually ran out of what little food we had. Those were particularly rough times. I resorted to robbing stores for food for my sisters and me. I’ll have more to say on that later. Thank God, I was not caught. A breaking and entering charge would have changed my entire future. Perhaps I would have ended up like my two younger brothers, who sold and used drugs and were addicted to alcohol. The youngest spent nine years in the Ohio State prison for attempting to kill his wife who was apparently involved with another man.

The Great Coharie River, named after a Native American Indian tribe, was the center of most activities in my life. I learned how to swim, boat, fish and was baptized by the Baptist Church in this river. It often overflowed as result of yearly hurricanes which brought heavy rain, destroying many crops within the reach of the flooded river. The flooded river often stretched from a normal width of several hundred yards to nearly one mile wide as rising water inundated the forest in all directions. If only the river could talk, it would tell incredible tales. This includes the death of four Union soldiers from General Sherman’s nearby camp as they attempting to cross the flooded river on a raft in March of 1865. This was just prior to the end of the War Between the States with the final battle fought near Clinton, N.C.

Nearly a century has passed since Cypress trees along the Coharie were cut. These trees were prized for their important use as masts on ships. They were lashed together and floated downstream to mills along the river, including the port of Wilmington. Very few cypress trees were spared. My father sold most of the cypress trees on his property.

Alligators once roamed these waters, but all were killed for their skin. Not a single alligator remained in the wild along the entire length of the river. My father contributed to the killing of the gators and sold their skin for purses. I found stories of the slaughter of gators very sad. They will never return to the Coharie

My father told stories about him harvesting turpentine from the long lead pine trees that were plentiful. The harvesting technique killed almost all of the long-leaf pine trees found along the entire length of the Great Coharie River. These trees can now be found mostly in parks where they are protected. Today, it is possible to drive for miles in Southeastern North Carolina without finding a single long - lead pine.

Working for nearby farmers occupied most of my time in the summer. Harvesting tobacco by hand was hot, tedious and dirty work. In the fall, workers were needed to pick cotton, stack peanuts, and pull corn from the stalks. I was always available for this work. The money I earned working on the farms played a major role in purchasing clothes needed for school. When picking cotton, I earned four cents per pound picked and never earned more than four dollars per day.

Murder was suspected and covered up in the family as evidenced by the following incident. A local man, always in trouble with someone, threatened to report the location of my father’s liquor stills to the Feds if dad did not give him $1,000. The man suddenly disappeared. His body washed ashore down river several days later. The popular belief in the community was that my father killed him because of his attempted blackmail.

Helping my father in his illegal whiskey-making business was expected. Starting at age nine, I delivered ingredients, including large quantities of sugar to my father’s whiskey stills up river via boat. His large still operations required huge quantities of raw materials, including hundreds of mason jars, every week.

Perhaps the memory of my mother lingers with me the most.