Last month we began looking into what makes the people of Western York County (WYC) different from other sections of the county. After defining the historical WYC as opposed to geographical and political lines, beginning with Scotland’s history in the 16th and 17th centuries, we got a glimpse of how the mentality of the early Scots and Scotch-Irish developed, whose descendents then settled in this country. I have a theory that the remnants of this culture are still very much alive in WYC. This time, let’s take a look at WYC’s nearest neighbor, the town of York, and cite the differences in those two areas of the county.
While the historic town of York is most often considered a part of WYC, this courthouse town (like any other courthouse town) is an entity all of its own. When the county was formed in 1785 and its county seat established, Yorkville (now York) immediately became a center for law, attracted professionals, and became a viable marketplace, associating with people from far and wide. These things alone defined the town differently from the rest of the county.
Some who live in WYC and are “sensitive to places” claim they can feel a difference, though they cannot explain it. This phenomenon is not unique to York County. Some in Chester County say that they can “feel” the difference between the town of Chester and West Chester County. Indeed, there is a strong family bond between the people of York and WYC, but a slight difference in ideology does exist.
The recently published book Townways of Kent, a social study of York, sheds some light on York’s uniqueness and how its people differ from their western cousins. The study’s researchers found that York in the 1800s enjoyed a very social relationship with Charleston. (Who of us have not heard that York was called the “Charleston of the Upcountry”?) The Yorkville Enquirer in the mid-1800s bears witness to the fact in articles chronicling visits of the lowcountry elite and other Charlestonians hoping to get away from the stifling summer heat and fevers. General Wade Hampton, at the end of the Civil War, was familiar enough with Yorkville that he sent his wife to live with a family there, to escape Sherman’s fiery march.
Another witness thrives along the streets of Historic York — the magnificent magnolia. These green giants, with their fragrant blooms, give a strong testimony of the city’s association with the lowcountry. Their testimony might have eluded our attention had it not been for another book, Red Hills and Cotton. In this work, author Ben Robinson tells us that the majority of people living in the South Carolina Piedmont during the mid-1800’s viewed the magnolia with a jaundiced eye, seeing it as a symbol of lowcountry decadence. (Remember, rural families viewed the world in practical terms.) If York’s love of magnolias came from their association with lowcountry people, the lack of them in WYC could illustrate that area’s lack of interaction with lowcountry residents. One might be hard-pressed to find a 150-year-old magnolia west of Highway 321.
The natural development of towns, along with its businesspeople, heightens the distinction between rural and urban residents. Across the South Carolina Piedmont during the 1840s, an entrepreneur class rose out of the farming class as they left subsistence farming and made investments in land and slaves. Consequently, there was a surge in the development of towns, and the grandsons of immigrant settlers became members of an elite class built of businessmen, entrepreneurs, professionals, and planters. Across the state this class became increasingly influential in countywide affairs, and rural people wondered if the urban dweller’s interest went beyond the town limits.
Gradually, wonder grew into suspicion, and the gap widened between the different groups. Sensitive to the widening gap, the South Carolina legislature began to pass bills to establish a public school system in hopes of arresting the developing situation by socializing the rural people — ultimately to gain their support of the leadership by the upper class. These bills had the desired effect of unity, because the grandsons and granddaughters of the Scotch-Irish settlers still centered their culture on their local churches and schools, as their parents and grandparents had before them.
The ideological difference between rural residents and urban residents is all quite normal, and there is no reason why we should not recognize the difference and celebrate those differences without prejudice. For an example of this gap, we don’t need to look too far back in time. It was in the late 1880s when the trunk line of the Chicago, Cincinnati & Charleston railroad was built across the county. It spawned the towns of Sharon and Hickory Grove and, later, Smyrna. As these villages became viable markets and grew, people there became more attracted to outside influences and some had the means to change from rural dwellers to town dwellers. That, in a small way, mirrored York’s development. Oddly enough, those who formerly felt distant from the internal workings of York now became merchants and leaders in the new villages, and gradually, a difference in how one looks at the world developed as it had in other areas of the state. One thing must be said to the villages’ credit — they were well aware that their existence depended on agriculture, and the merchants worked cooperatively and diligently with their rural counterparts.
So the emotional distance that might be felt between the eastern and western sides of the county is a common occurrence that happens when towns appear in and develop out of rural areas. In the case of WYC, however, I believe there is something else that makes us unique. The difference is that a living and healthy remnant of their distant heritage remains among the people collectively.
Many retain their ancestor’s earthiness and practical nature, and though many have acquired much of what the world has to offer, they remain aloof of showy materialism. Calvinism motivated the people to be content in whatever situation one finds one’s self, to be content with a comfortable home, and to resist any temptation to flaunt their wealth.
WYC still retains its sense of community, not in the sense of organization — but as a people who feel that they belong together. This sense involves blood and attitude. One is usually born into it and forms a natural relationship with it. Because the people have this sense of community, WYC is still one of those places where a man’s or woman’s word is good as gold, where a handshake is equivalent to a signed contract.
Times are a-changing. If the county population continues to climb and the economy rebounds, we will see this “Southern Eden” disappear. In short, what has helped WYC retain so much of its heritage is that it has escaped urban development due to its location, which provided isolation and insulation from rapid growth. That, however, is about to change. The development of Highway 5 as a corridor between I-85 and I-77 is the bold handwriting on the land. The change that WYC will see through the completion of this project will be on a much larger scale than that of the coming of the 3C’s railway in the 1880s.
But for now, we in Western York County can continue to enjoy the benefits of rural life, like peace and quiet and being able to see the stars at night.
J.L. West – Author
This article and many others found on the pages of Roots and Recall, were written by author J.L. West, for the YC Magazine and have been reprinted on R&R, with full permission – not for distribution or reprint!
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