Echoes of The Sandhills

Series 4: Echoes in Action: Lives That Shaped the Sandhills and the World

Echo 2: Adam Martin “A.M.” Barrett

Some lives echo not because they were loud, but because they were faithful, steadfast in purpose, enduring in impact. Adam Martin “A.M.” Barrett is one such life. Born into slavery in Moore County, North Carolina, on February 7, 1844, Barrett emerged from bondage into a calling that would shape churches, schools, and communities across the Sandhills and beyond.

Barrett’s life spanned one of the most consequential periods in American history. Enslaved at birth, he witnessed the collapse of slavery and the uncertain promise of freedom. Like many African Americans of his generation, his response to freedom was not retreat, but responsibility, helping to build the institutions that freedom required.

By January 1870, just five years after the end of the Civil War, Barrett appears in the Monthly Report of Freedmen’s Schools, State of North Carolina as Rev. Adam Barrett, listed as the teacher of Mt. Olive School in Carthage, Moore County. The school was commissioned by the African Methodist Episcopal Society. The use of the title Reverend at this early date reflects that Barrett was already serving in ministry while also teaching, embodying the close relationship between education and the church during Reconstruction. Teaching in a Freedmen’s School was more than instruction; it was an act of resistance against the illiteracy imposed by slavery and a declaration of hope for future generations.[Freedmen’s School report]

Barrett’s influence soon extended beyond the classroom into the pulpit and the broader leadership of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. A December 4, 1873 article in the Wilmington Morning Star lists his appointment for the 1873–1874 conference year as Presiding Elder of the Manchester District and as pastor of the Manchester church. That congregation would later become known as Bethel A.M.E. Zion Church, a name that continues to carry deep significance within the community.

Articles from The Educator newspaper in Fayetteville frequently reference Barrett’s leadership as Presiding Elder of the Manchester District and his close affiliation with Bethel. He was instrumental in the construction of the church’s first edifice, transforming faith into something visible and enduring. In a time when African American congregations often worshiped in borrowed or temporary spaces, the establishment of a permanent house of worship was both a spiritual and social milestone.

Barrett’s leadership extended across districts and conferences. He presided over multiple A.M.E. Zion conferences, guiding clergy and congregations during a period of growth and transition for the denomination. One such gathering—the Quarterly Conference held on February 13, 1875, at Jonesboro Chapel in Jonesboro (present-day Sanford), North Carolina, was reported in The Educator, underscoring his role as a trusted and respected leader.

By 1877, Barrett was serving as Presiding Elder of the Fayetteville District, further expanding his influence across central North Carolina. His work reflected a rare combination of pastoral care, administrative leadership, and institutional vision, qualities essential for sustaining Black churches and communities in the post-Reconstruction South.

Education remained a cornerstone of Barrett’s legacy. Later in life, he founded Barrett College in Anson County, extending his commitment to learning beyond elementary instruction. At a time when opportunities for African American students were limited by law and custom, the establishment of a school represented both courage and foresight, a belief in the power of education to shape future leaders.

Throughout his ministry and educational work, Barrett was supported by his wife, Catharine. While historical records often focus on ministers and public leaders, Catharine’s life was intertwined with the demanding travel, leadership responsibilities, and community commitments that defined Barrett’s calling. Her presence reminds us that these legacies were often sustained through partnership and shared sacrifice.

Barrett’s long and faithful service did not go unnoticed. In a December 10, 1886 article in the Star of Zion, the paper observed:

“Rev. A.M. Barrett, we believe has traveled as Presiding Elder longer than any man in the conference. He is still popular and makes his influence known wherever he goes.”

Adam Martin Barrett died on May 25, 1926, in Lilesville, Anson County, North Carolina. His life bridged slavery and freedom, hardship and hope. Through education, church leadership, and institution-building, Barrett left echoes that continue to shape communities today.

His story reminds us that freedom is not only claimed, it is constructed, lesson by lesson, sermon by sermon, log by log.

Echoes of The Sandhills

Series 4 - Echoes in Action: Lives That Shaped the Sandhills and the World

Echo 1: Anson Bailey

History is often told through the lives of the well-known, the leaders, the firsts, the ones whose names made headlines. But history is also shaped quietly, daily, and faithfully by ordinary people whose lives touched others in ways that mattered.

Every person leaves an imprint. Whether through labor or leadership, sacrifice or service, resistance or resilience; anyone who interacts with others shapes the world around them. Some impacts are loud and visible. Others are subtle, steady, and long-lasting, like footprints pressed into sand.

Echoes in Action focuses on those lives.

In this fourth echo, we turn our attention to individuals whose contributions, no matter how small they may have seemed at the time, rippled outward. Their lives remind us that significance is not measured by fame, but by faithfulness; not by recognition, but by relationships.

These are people who lived fully within their circumstances, often constrained by forces beyond their control, yet still influenced families, communities, and generations that followed. Their stories deserve to be told, not because they were perfect or powerful, but because they were present.

Introducing Our First Life: Anson Bailey: A Life That Echoed

Anson Bailey was born in the early 1840s, in Harnett County, North Carolina, at a time when his life began in bondage. The records do not agree on the exact year, 1843 or 1844, but they are clear on this: Anson was born enslaved, the son of Joseph McDougald and Lettie Barkster, into a world that placed limits on his freedom but not on his faith or future.

By the time the 1870 census recorded his name, Anson Bailey was no longer listed as property, but as a person. He was a farmer, a husband to Mary, and the father of four children. The land he worked and the family he raised tell the story of a man building stability in the fragile years following emancipation, rooting himself in labor, responsibility, and hope.

But Anson Bailey’s life extended far beyond the boundaries of his farm.

In 1867, just two years after the Civil War ended, a small group of Black men and women in Lillington made a bold decision. They believed they needed a place of worship of their own, one shaped by their faith, their leadership, and their community. Among those founders were Anson and his wife Mary.

From that decision, Lillington First Presbyterian Church was born.

Anson Bailey did not simply attend the church; he helped lead it. He became one of its first elders, entrusted with spiritual guidance at a time when Black institutions were still fragile and hard-won. In those early years, church leadership required more than scripture, it demanded courage, steadiness, and a vision for a future that could not yet be fully seen.

Faith was not something Anson Bailey kept within the walls of the sanctuary. For more than fifty years, he devoted himself to teaching children, across denominations, working in Sunday schools wherever he was needed. He taught the Shorter Catechism with passion and patience, shaping young minds and spirits with the same dedication early church leaders once showed. Though deeply committed to Presbyterian doctrine, he was never narrow in spirit, believing that faith was meant to be shared, not guarded.

As years passed, Anson Bailey became a pillar in the community. By the time of his death in February 1936, he had lived into his ninety-third year. He had seen slavery and freedom, Reconstruction and Jim Crow, hope and hardship. Even in his later years, blind but engaged, he remained attentive to the life of the church, listening, reflecting, and rejoicing in the work of younger leaders.

The breadth of his influence was made clear at his homegoing. Ministers from multiple denominations stood to testify to the ways Anson Bailey had shaped their lives as students and servants. Voices from both Black and white communities offered words of respect and gratitude. His pastor chose for the eulogy a verse Anson himself often quoted: “Enter ye in at the straight gate.” It was a fitting farewell for a man who had walked his path with conviction and grace.

Anson Bailey may not have left behind volumes of written words, but his life spoke clearly. Through faith, teaching, leadership, and quiet consistency, he shaped a church, strengthened a community, and left an echo that continues to reach forward.

His life reminds us that history is not only made by those whose names fill textbooks, but also by those who faithfully show up, teach the next generation, and live in a way that draws others toward something better.

Stay tuned for our next Echo, as we look back once more to honor another pioneer whose footsteps guide us forward.

Reference: African-American Presbyterian congregational histories / Darius L. Swann, compiler.--https://catalog.history.pcusa.org/cgi-bin/koha/opac-detail.pl?biblionumber=57771

Echoes of The Sandhills

Series 3 - Echo 5 — Crossroads and Change, 1940–1970

Consolidation, Community Schools, and the Impact of Desegregation in the Sandhills

By the mid-20th century, Black education in the Sandhills stood at a crossroads. The Rosenwald era had delivered durable buildings, trained teachers, and renewed confidence, but new forces were reshaping education across North Carolina. Consolidation replaced one- and two-room schools with centralized campuses. School buses extended the reach of education while quietly dismantling many small community schools. At the same time, African American families continued pressing for expanded secondary education, equal facilities, and fair funding.

The schools that emerged during this period were larger, more centralized, and often deeply symbolic. They represented progress, but they also carried the weight of loss, loss of neighborhood schools, local control, and institutions that had once served as the heart of rural Black life.

Building Regional Black Schools

As counties consolidated their school systems, several key institutions rose to serve broader geographic areas, drawing students from multiple communities and counties.

E. E. Smith High School (Cumberland County)Established in Fayetteville in 1957, E. E. Smith High School became one of the most prominent African American high schools in southeastern North Carolina. Named for educator and administrator E. E. Smith, the school reflected both progress and inequality: it offered expanded academic and extracurricular opportunities while remaining segregated. Students from rural Cumberland County, including former Rosenwald school communities, traveled long distances to attend. E. E. Smith became a source of pride, producing graduates who went on to college, military service, teaching, and civic leadership.

Johnsonville and Shawtown Schools (Harnett County)In Harnett County, communities such as Johnsonville and Shawtown experienced consolidation firsthand. Earlier local schools gave way to centralized facilities that served students from across the county. While these schools provided broader curricula and more stable staffing, families remembered the emotional cost of seeing community-built schools closed or repurposed. Churches once again stepped in, hosting meetings, graduations, and reunions to preserve a sense of continuity.

W. B. Wicker School (Lee County)In Lee County, the transition was anchored by what was originally known as the Lee County Training School, built in 1927 with Rosenwald support in Sanford. Designed to provide secondary education and teacher training for African American students, the school quickly became the educational center of Black life in the county.

In 1954, the school was renamed W. B. Wicker School in honor of William Bartelle Wicker, its first principal and a tireless advocate for Black education. Under his leadership, the school expanded academic offerings and served as the county’s Black high school for decades. Students traveled from rural Lee County communities, forming bonds that lasted long after graduation. W. B. Wicker remained a cornerstone of African American education until desegregation reshaped the school system, after which the building continued to serve the community in new roles.

West Southern Pines School (Moore County)In Moore County, West Southern Pines emerged as a consolidated school serving African American students from Southern Pines and surrounding rural areas. The school reflected the county’s shifting economy and demographics, educating children of domestic workers, laborers, and service employees connected to Pinehurst and the resort economy. West Southern Pines stood as both a beacon of opportunity and a reminder of segregation’s boundaries.

The Impact of Desegregation

The 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision promised equal education, but change came slowly and unevenly. In the Sandhills, desegregation often meant that Black students were reassigned to formerly white schools, while Black schools, many of them newer and deeply rooted in their communities, were closed, downgraded, or repurposed.

The professional impact of desegregation on African American educators varied by county and implementation. In certain districts, Black principals and teachers continued to lead their schools for extended periods following desegregation, preserving institutional knowledge and stability. Elsewhere, administrative restructuring and school closures resulted in diminished leadership roles or reassignment of experienced educators. Although desegregation expanded student access, it also altered long-standing educational relationships within Black communities.

What Was Gained, What Was Lost

By the early 1970s, Black education in the Sandhills had entered a new era. Access expanded, but ownership diminished. The legacy of earlier schools survived through alumni networks, church records, oral histories, and the physical buildings that still stand today.

The journey from brush arbor to Rosenwald school, from training school to consolidated high school, tells a story not only of education, but of determination, adaptation, and resilience.

The echoes remain in the names remembered, the buildings repurposed, and the generations shaped by teachers who believed that education was the surest path forward.

Looking Ahead — The People Behind the Progress

Schools tell one part of the story.

People tell the rest.

Behind every classroom built, every student taught, and every community sustained were individuals who carried the Sandhills far beyond its borders. Men and women born into bondage who became educators. Pastors who laid both spiritual and institutional foundations. Teachers, ministers, diplomats, and organizers whose influence reached from rural North Carolina to national and international stages.

Some founded churches that doubled as schools. Some established institutions of higher learning. Some carried the voice of Black America across oceans at a time when freedom at home was still contested. Their names do not always appear in textbooks, but their work reshaped communities and opened doors for generations to come.

The next series turns its focus to these lives.

Series 4 - Echoes in Action will spotlight individuals from the Sandhills whose courage, intellect, faith, and service extended the fight for education, dignity, and opportunity locally, nationally, and globally. Their stories remind us that history is not only built in buildings, but carried in people.