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Sandra
Wheeler
Favorite
Quote
“Tell
my father I died with my face to the enemy.”
Confederate Col. Isaac Erwin Avery
Burke
County, N.C.
About the Author…..
As a lifetime resident of Old Sparta,
most likely I will never know what it would be like to be called anything other
than an “Old Sparty Girl.” A name affectionately given to me by my father—
“Papa,”— Ralph Edwards, has burned for me an indelible inscription across my
heart, a loving token of the distant past.
Born and reared in Old Sparta I have lived to see the colorful days of
her past mellowed down to a small and almost forgotten few. Come with me now as over the next few pages
we explore together the depths of her roots, as only I have been blessed to
view—Old Sparta.
Old Sparta Baptist Church
More
about Old Sparta
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The Old Sparta Legacy—
So
as the sycamore tree having been hewn down, whittled, little by little by the
overriding persuasions of time, when but by the mere scent of water it searches
breathing once more for life, so has been the enduring strength of an elusive
but indelible legacy
— the designation of a people destined to be.
OLD SPARTA —
ALONG THE
TAR
Approximately
some eighty five miles down stream from where the Tar River begins its run,
where underground waters rising to the surface slowly but surely cut their way
southward, the mouth of Town Creek pours its savory waters out into the
Tar. Somewhere along those banks
cultural history having been revealed time and time again has often been
overruled by nature, and what some may call progress. Often times leaving the distinct culture of the past far behind,
perhaps to die or lull in existence—big beginnings now appear small.
First
located where the waters of the Town Creek pour into the Tar, a young colonial
settlement inside Edgecombe County found its humble beginnings. Named under a
land patent—1726, as Town Creek— the original name yet to be changed more than
once was first sanctioned “Sparta,” during the 1730’s. The mouth of Town Creek, fast becoming a
river port, as the Old Dominion Steamship Company progressively ran supplies up
and down the river, after a spurt of growth and prosperity the name Sparta was
yet to be changed again. First incorporated in 1876 as “Old Sparta” was once
again reincorporated in 1903.
Having
first settled her roots by the waters of the Tar, a township in the making was
on its way to the glory of its growth, houses, lands, and peoples— destiny at
hand; the hustle and the bustle of the times both apparent and affluent. Cargo
by the way of the waters came chugging up the river on pole boats, barges and
river flats, with an occasional steamboat to whistle its way through the
drawing of the bridge. The Maggie and
the RL Myers were among the many boats headed out of Little Washington looking
for a place to port.
Bringing
in supplies to the town folk round about merchants and farmers would meet at
the boat landing to pick up their goods for use or resale. The receiving of farming supplies,
fertilizer, tar pitch, pine rosin, etc., items of the day, would soon be the
reason for the sweet smell of good ole American prosperity. And so it was perhaps for this fact alone,
unbeknownst to those at hand, the rise to a greater wealth and power would soon
bring demise. The evolution of greater political pulls, whether it be to the
good or bad in man’s opinion, sought and then fought to gain access to an even
greater expansion of commerce, leading commerce away from its original
beginnings.
For
so it was with the purchase of the Old Dominion Steamship Company, by the
Southern Railway Company, circa 1900, the activities of the old Town Creek boat
landing, the residing prosperity of the day, the good life of the peoples of
Old Sparta would slowly but surely begin to wane. It was in the waning of that day the savory banks of the Town
Creek, and the Tar River, once busied with the hurry and scurry of commerce,
would cease to thrive as the center of activity; the comings and goings of an
everyday life made quiet.
Southern Railway making its entrance into the
area had passed them by; making its journey onward through nearing towns the
humming of the rails fast to carry away the commerce of a better day. Thus the
activities of the old Town Creek boat landing, the prosperity of a better day,
the good life of the peoples at large was slowly but surely grinding to a halt. Progress by the way of the more affluent,
the governing bodies of the day, be it good or bad in man’s opinion, over the
decade would gradually bring the struggle of a chokehold, the demise of a
village once in the glory of its growth.
As
the breath of her life was slowly taken a gasp, destiny in the balance,
personal debt would begin to mount.
After a short span of time the working people of the land would find
themselves on the edge, nearing the end of prosperity—land titles changing into
the hands of the wealthier
Struggling
for survival in the early 1900’s, hanging on to her integrity by a thumbnail, a
fine and flourishing village had begun demise.
By 1907 the local post office had been discontinued, merchant stores
closed, houses abandoned, streets emptied but for a few dirt farmers coming in
for a meager amount of supplies. As the
aggression of political sway pulled in other directions, zealous progress at
large, railways having been persuaded to run only a few miles adjacent, so it
was that the hope and prosperity of the past was lost. A brave young settlement once birthed at the
mouth of Town Creek was slowly being brought to knees.
There
would come the day…when for various and asunder reasons… ownership of farmlands
would change hands. No longer did the
people etching out the land from the trees of the wood, by the toile of the
breaking back, claim title to the land. The more prosperous and the more
aggressive had come to collect. Soon
buried under an avalanche of new deals, a prospering village of colonial
authenticity once on the rise was facing foreclosure.
The
same wealth of governing bodies serving to pass them by were now calling upon
the true toilers of the soil, those who had gained the decency of life by the
hot sweat of the American brow. So it
was that one by one came the court of summons, to the demise of the earliest of
the frontiers of Edgecombe County—Thus the beginning of what could have been
the end.
*
* *
Yet
still in the uprightness of her winding past, with only a handful of gallant
people to carry on, Old Sparta would long remain in tact as she struggled for
existence well inside the mid forty’s.
By the time the war was over… the four corners of her town square, the
cross of her roads was a buzz gain. By
1955, the blazing days of her glory long at rest, a remnant of upright
integrity had long since made reign.
The glow of a warm fire in winter still burned in the village
churches. Old Sparta Primitive Baptist
Church and St. Ignatius Episcopal were yet still ablaze in bible believing
activity.
Hailing
through the oracles of time, yet still unchanged, Old Sparta Primitive Baptist
Church still stands to the glory of its past, remaining in the light of its
first original faith. Primitive in
design, no worldly embellishments, the residing church building reeks of days
gone by—Circa 1855.
Remaining
yet still in its original state and style, housing even today those same
primitive bench pews, rough cut and hand painted in that same enamel brown,
fashionable of the dirt road days, the structure of a simple white clapboard
building remains— the oldest structure in town.
Having
suffered long inside the winds of time and change…as if the rise and fall of
commerce were not enough to bring her to a halt…the high rising floodwaters of
the Tar would soon for a season diminish all signs of life—Another day of
declining prosperity—1999.
*
* *
As
the wind blew softly across the baroness of the town square, in the lull of the
storm the lights had gone out. The
silence of a long and rainy night coming to an end, water lapping quietly over
the cross of her roads, abandoned now by most of her peoples, the silence of a
day of brokenness was soon to drive even the birds away—but only for a
spell.
Whatever
progress Old Sparta may have enjoyed in the near past was gone. Seemingly already on her way out before the
rising of the flood waters, abandoned by time, her lots grown up in underbrush,
empty buildings left to stand in disrepair, needless to say that which was left
of her pride, through the rise and fall of the waters, was soon to be swept
away thereafter, by Edgecombe County clean up.
Rich
in land, rich in people, rich in history, all in the span of seemingly a day, that
which was left of waning glory was laid quietly to rest over night. Time marching on had brought Old Sparta to a
screeching halt.
*
* *
Having
once been graced by the will of God to carry the name of the first inland
settlement, certainly in the county of Edgecombe, let the record now show that
the township of Old Sparta was destined to rise again. Born of a people who have loved her long,
and love her still, lifted from out of the ruins of her past, surely in the
hearts and minds of those adoring her, let all now rejoice. For though yet still sometimes elusive that
same brave little village of yesteryear— still unfurls her flag today—Old
Sparta.
Written
by:
Sandra Edwards Wheeler
Old Sparta, N. C.
Copyright/08
My
appreciation to Gladys Johnson
Her
extensive files being used in my research
Thank
You, Miss Gladys
*Thank
you for joining with us as we strive to bring Old Sparta back to the blessed
lure of her youth.
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