A Note From The Editor

On History, Humanity, and the Stories We Tell

People are people. They always have been.

Our ancestors were no less human than we are today. They experienced joy and sorrow, triumph and defeat, courage and fear. They made sacrifices, exercised poor judgment, seized opportunities, and sometimes found themselves in circumstances where the choices before them were neither easy nor honorable. They loved, they struggled, they persevered, and they survived.

History is not a collection of perfect people making perfect decisions. It is the story of human beings navigating the world in which they lived, often under circumstances we can scarcely imagine.

Some of our ancestors accomplished extraordinary things. Others endured extraordinary hardships. Still others took extraordinary measures to provide for their families, preserve their dignity, or simply survive another day. Their decisions may not always withstand the scrutiny of hindsight, but neither should we presume to understand the weight of choices we were never forced to make.

Too often, when uncomfortable truths emerge from our family or community histories, we hear the familiar admonitions: “We don't talk about that.” “That doesn't need to be told.” “Leave that in the past.”

But silence does not change history. It merely determines which parts of it future generations will be permitted to know.

We cannot rightfully challenge the erasure and whitewashing of history while selectively concealing the chapters of our own past that make us uncomfortable. To do so would be to deny our ancestors the very thing this work seeks to restore: the fullness of their humanity.

These Echoes are not intended to glorify wrongdoing, excuse injustice, or diminish the suffering of others. Nor are they written to sit in judgment of people whose circumstances were often vastly different from our own. They are an effort to understand, to preserve, and to bear witness.

There is courage in survival. There is dignity in perseverance. There are lessons in misjudgment, wisdom in reflection, and sometimes profound humanity in decisions that history might otherwise condemn without explanation.

We owe our ancestors more than a polished account of their triumphs. We owe them the truth, as faithfully as the surviving record allows.

For history is not merely what happened long ago. It is the accumulation of lives, decisions, circumstances, and consequences that shaped the world we inherited.

We cannot fully understand who we are if we are unwilling to acknowledge all that came before us.

Let the record speak. Let the stories be told. Let our ancestors be remembered not as perfect people, but as people.

And let us trust future generations with the truth.

Echoes from the Sandhills

Series 4 - Echoes in Action

Echo 20 - When the Pines Ran Dry

The Spoils of War

Andrew Brinkley and the Moonshine Trade of Anderson Creek Township

For generations, the longleaf pines of the North Carolina Sandhills had provided a livelihood. From their resin came turpentine, tar, pitch, and rosin, products that sustained families and helped build an industry.

But the forests could not give forever.

Years of harvesting depleted the pines, and as the old economy changed, the need to earn a living remained. By the turn of the twentieth century, much of the original longleaf pine forest had disappeared, and the once-thriving naval stores industry had lost much of its prominence in North Carolina.

For Black families in the Sandhills, already facing limited economic opportunities, the decline of traditional livelihoods created additional hardships.

The land could sustain a family, but it did not always provide the cash a family needed.

Whiskey production offered another means of earning money. Corn could be grown, distilled, and sold, transforming an agricultural product into something with a ready market. The trade was illegal, and the consequences of being caught could be severe. Yet for some, the potential income made the risk worth taking.

Whether the decline of the turpentine industry directly influenced Andrew Brinkley's involvement in the whiskey trade is unknown. But his story unfolded in a region where the old ways of making a living were changing.

And in 1913, Andrew Brinkley, a Black man associated with Anderson Creek Township in Harnett County, would find himself at the center of a newspaper account celebrating the capture of a substantial whiskey operation.

The newspaper headline announced:

A BIG STILL CAPTURED.

United States Marshal D. C. Downing and Deputy Sheriff J. McD. Monaghan had departed Fayetteville on a Monday night, traveling to a location described as three and one-half miles above Manchester and approximately sixteen miles from Fayetteville.

Manchester served as a geographic landmark, but the Brinkley family associated with this history lived in Anderson Creek Township, not in the town itself.

The officers discovered a sixty-five-gallon whiskey still, eleven large tubs, twelve cooling worms, a heater worm, and a doubler. They also found seven hundred gallons of beer and another seven hundred gallons of mash.

The quantity of materials suggested a substantial operation, one requiring equipment, supplies, labor, and some means of distributing the finished product.

After collecting the equipment, the officers began their return journey around two o'clock Tuesday morning.

Somewhere on the Fayetteville side of Manchester, they encountered Andrew Brinkley traveling with a mule and wagon. Inside the wagon was a keg containing thirty gallons of corn liquor.

The officers arrested Andrew, whom the newspaper identified as the owner of the still.

The article did not explain how ownership was established or whether Andrew was transporting the liquor for himself or others.

By approximately 6:45 that morning, the officers had returned to Fayetteville with their confiscated equipment and whiskey.

The newspaper celebrated the seizure, describing the officers' haul as the “Spoils of War.”

For Andrew Brinkley, however, the consequences were only beginning.

From the Wagon to the Chain Gang

By the spring of 1913, Andrew had been prosecuted for violating North Carolina's prohibition laws and sentenced to eighteen months on the county roads.

In the Jim Crow South, a sentence to the road gang meant more than confinement. Prisoners performed demanding physical labor building and maintaining public roads, often under harsh conditions and armed supervision.

Andrew had served approximately ten days of his sentence when authorities removed him from the Cumberland County chain gang and transported him to Raleigh.

He was needed as a witness in federal court.

The case involved a man named Joe Harvey.

Newspaper reports published in June 1913 indicated that Harvey had been riding with Andrew when officers encountered the wagon but had fled before being apprehended later.

Andrew subsequently identified Harvey in federal court as the man who had accompanied him. The proceedings reportedly concerned the unlawful removal of whiskey from outside a bonded warehouse.

The exact relationship between Andrew and Harvey remains uncertain. Were they partners in the whiskey trade, acquaintances, or simply traveling together? The surviving accounts do not provide enough information to establish their relationship or the circumstances under which Andrew testified.

In December 1913, Andrew's name appeared again in connection with a possible pardon. The notice referenced his eighteen-month sentence, but whether a pardon was ultimately granted remains unknown.

The newspapers leave us with an incomplete account of what happened to Andrew after his conviction and testimony.

Yet, the whiskey trade continued.

An Industry That Endured

Andrew Brinkley's arrest was one episode in a much larger history of whiskey production in the Sandhills.

Family oral histories suggest that the enterprise continued in Anderson Creek Township long after his encounter with the law.

By the next generation, moonshining was remembered as more than an undertaking by isolated individuals. According to family accounts, participants maintained lawyers on retainer and provided assistance to families when someone was arrested.

Other recollections associate some proceeds from the industry with the construction of local churches, although those accounts have not been independently verified.

These stories suggest an underground economy in which financial opportunity, legal risk, and mutual obligation existed side by side. They do not establish that Andrew's operation and the later enterprise were a single, continuous organization, but they preserve a dimension of community life seldom found in newspaper reports of whiskey raids.

What the Newspaper Left Behind

The newspapers recorded the equipment, the whiskey, the arrests, and the sentences. They preserved the names of the officers and the details of their enforcement efforts.

But they revealed little about the lives of the people involved.

Andrew Brinkley's story did not end with his conviction or his testimony against Joe Harvey. An August 1914 newspaper account reported that "Bell Brinkley" was allowed $12.50 for Andrew's burial expenses. The same account stated that Andrew had served eleven months of a twelve-month sentence on the county roads, a discrepancy from earlier reporting that described an eighteen-month sentence.

A subsequent newspaper report, published in February 1915 under the heading “Outside Poor,” again recorded the $12.50 burial allowance, this time identifying Bella Brinkley. The term outside poor referred to individuals who received public assistance while living outside the county poorhouse. Such assistance could also include burial expenses for those whose families lacked the means to cover them.

These records establish that Andrew Brinkley had died by August 1914, little more than a year after his arrest and imprisonment. They do not reveal the precise date or circumstances of his death, nor do they explain the discrepancy in his reported sentence.

The burial allowance provides a final, sobering entry in the surviving newspaper record. The man once identified as the owner of a substantial whiskey operation was now the subject of a modest county expenditure to cover his burial.

Yet Andrew's death did not mark the end of the whiskey trade in Anderson Creek Township.

Family oral histories preserve accounts of an enterprise that continued into another generation, one in which participants reportedly maintained lawyers on retainer and provided assistance to families when someone was arrested. These recollections suggest an economic network whose influence extended beyond the production and distribution of liquor.

The authorities measured their success in gallons seized, equipment confiscated, and men brought before the courts. The newspapers documented Andrew's arrest, his imprisonment, and ultimately the expense of his burial.

Family memory preserved something else: the economic struggles, relationships, and obligations that existed beyond the still.

The longleaf pines had once provided a living. As that economy faded, people found other ways to survive, sometimes outside the boundaries of the law.

Andrew Brinkley died in 1914, but the larger story of the moonshine economy in Anderson Creek Township continued long after his death.

The lawmen carried away the still. They did not carry away the story.

Echoes from the Sandhills

Series 4 - Echoes in Action

Echo 19 - From the Sandhills to Sierra Leone: Dr. John Taylor Williams

In March 1898, readers of The Star of Zion, the official newspaper of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, opened its pages to find the portrait of a distinguished North Carolina physician.

Beneath the portrait appeared his name:

DR. JOHN T. WILLIAMS

And above his story:

“Consul To Sierra Leone, Africa—Successful Physician.”

By then, Dr. John Taylor Williams was a successful Charlotte physician, businessman, civic leader, and political figure. President William McKinley had nominated him to represent the United States in Sierra Leone, West Africa.

It was an extraordinary destination for a life that had begun nearly forty years earlier in the Sandhills of North Carolina.

A Child of the Sandhills

John Taylor Williams was born May 1, 1859, to Peter Williams and Flora Ann McKay Williams, free Black parents living in northern Cumberland County.

The 1898 Star of Zion profile described his birthplace as “in the northern part of Cumberland County in Little River township about 18 miles from Fayetteville.” Little River Township did not yet exist as a political subdivision when Williams was born; the newspaper was using the later township designation to identify the area of his birth.

His father, Peter, was described as a lumberman and veterinary surgeon. His mother, Flora Ann, was the daughter of Alexander and Maria McKay.

Flora gave her son one of his earliest gifts.

She taught him to read.

When John was about six years old, she began teaching him his letters. In 1867, the family moved to Harnett County. According to the account published during Williams's lifetime, Peter arranged for a white widow to teach his children, compensating her through work on her farm.

John took to books.

He mastered Webster's blue-back speller, became a constant reader, and by sixteen had reportedly worked his way through his mother's collection of memoirs, histories and biographies.

Then the student became the teacher.

Williams passed a teacher's examination at sixteen and began teaching private school. He later taught his first public school in Lillington.

At eighteen, he entered the State Normal School in Fayetteville and graduated three years later at the head of his class.

The 1880 United States Census captures him during this period of his life. Back home in Barbecue Township, Harnett County, John Williams was living with his mother and brothers.

His occupation was simply:

School Teacher.

Nothing on that census page hinted at just how far the young teacher would travel.

From the Classroom to Medicine

Williams continued teaching in North Carolina, including positions in Union County and Southport. By 1882, he had been employed in Charlotte as assistant principal of the city's colored graded school.

But education was leading him toward another profession.

Williams entered Leonard Medical College, the medical department of Shaw University in Raleigh. On March 30, 1886, he graduated with the degree of Doctor of Medicine.

That same year, Williams and fellow Black physicians M. T. Pope and L. A. Scruggs presented themselves before the North Carolina State Board of Medical Examiners at New Bern. Williams passed the examination and received his license to practice medicine.

On July 22, 1886, Dr. Williams arrived in Charlotte and began his medical practice.

He prospered.

For five years, according to the Star of Zion, Williams served as surgeon in charge of Union Hospital, an institution established for the treatment of Black patients.

But medicine was only one part of his increasingly remarkable public life.

In 1887, Governor Alfred Moore Scales commissioned him surgeon captain of the First Battalion of the North Carolina State Guards.

In 1888, Charlotte voters elected Williams a city alderman. He was later reelected and served on committees concerned with sanitation, education, public buildings and grounds, and other municipal matters.

He also entered business. For several years, Williams served as president of the Queen City Drug Store Company and acquired property in Charlotte.

The young schoolteacher from Barbecue Township had become a physician, military officer, businessman and elected public official.

And there was another institution that had been part of his life since his youth: the church.

A Life of Faith and Service

Williams grew up in a household shaped by two Christian traditions. His father was Presbyterian and his mother Methodist.

At thirteen, John joined the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church.

His involvement went far beyond church attendance. Williams eventually held the positions available to a layman and represented his denomination at quarterly, district and annual conferences. In 1892, he represented the Western North Carolina Conference at the AME Zion General Conference in Pittsburgh.

His influence within the denomination continued even as his professional career expanded.

Years later, a 1904 issue of The Star of Zion credited Williams and Rev. John F. Moreland as the “projectors” of a plan for a general fund assessment on local AME Zion churches—another indication that Williams's talents extended into institutional and financial affairs.

But by then, Williams had already crossed an ocean.

“Consul to Sierra Leone"

By the late 1890s, Williams was also active in Republican politics in western North Carolina.

His abilities and connections eventually brought his name to the attention of the administration of President William McKinley.

Williams was selected for diplomatic service in Sierra Leone, West Africa.

When The Star of Zion profiled him on March 3, 1898, his nomination was still part of the story. The newspaper described his accomplishments and noted that prominent banking, business and manufacturing interests in Charlotte had supported his appointment.

Then, apparently as the newspaper was preparing for publication, came an update:

“LATER: Since writing the above Dr. Williams has been confirmed as consul to Sierra Leone and will start for his post in a few days.”

Another North Carolina newspaper soon carried the news.

On March 30, 1898, The North Carolinian published a recurring column bearing a title unmistakably of its era:

“OUR COLORED PEOPLE.”

The column carried notices concerning Black North Carolinians—the activities of churches, schools, organizations, families and individuals.

Tucked among them was an announcement that must have caused more than a few readers to stop:

“The appointment of Dr. John Taylor Williams, of Charlotte, this State, as Consul to Sierra Leone, Africa, has been confirmed by the Senate.”

Consider the distance traveled.

In 1880, the census taker had found John Taylor Williams in Barbecue Township and written beside his name:

School Teacher.

Eighteen years later, the United States Senate had confirmed him to represent his country in Africa.

An Invitation from Freetown

By the fall of 1898, Dr. Williams was in Freetown, Sierra Leone.

And one newspaper account gives us an unusually intimate glimpse of his life there.

On October 2, 1898, the Charlotte Daily Observer reported that Silas Washington had received an invitation from Williams to a banquet in Freetown given by St. George's Lodge No. 4094 of the Grand United Order of Odd Fellows.

Among the specially recognized guests was:

“Dr. John Taylor Williams, M.D., consul for the United States of America.”

The newspaper even printed the menu.

There was ox-tail soup and barracouta with oyster sauce. Mutton cutlets with green peas. Chicken and ham pie. Roast turkey and boiled ham. Plum pudding, mince pies, jellies, blanc mange and Queen's cake. Hock, champagne and dessert wines accompanied the meal.

It is a small detail.

But sometimes the smallest details bring the past closest.

For a moment, Williams is no longer merely a name on a census page or an appointment announced in a newspaper.

We can imagine the room.

The tables.

The guests.

And somewhere among them, thousands of miles from the North Carolina Sandhills, sat Dr. John Taylor Williams.

Yet even there, the newspaper identified another of his affiliations:

North State Lodge No. 3238, Charlotte, North Carolina.

Across the Atlantic, home still followed him.

Remembered—But Not Always Correctly

Williams's remarkable rise was remembered in Harnett County, although over time portions of the story became distorted.

A later local history, They Passed This Way, remembered the young Williams studying books while other workers socialized after their day's labor. It remembered that he saved money, attended medical school, established a successful practice in Charlotte and eventually received an important federal appointment.

But then the story went astray.

The book claimed Williams had been appointed a “minister to Liberia” and even preserved an account in which he was remembered as having become a minister who was “preaching over in a church called Liberia.”

Contemporary records tell us otherwise.

John Taylor Williams was a physician, not a minister of the gospel.

And the country was not Liberia.

He was appointed United States consul to Sierra Leone.

The mistake is a reminder of something every family and community historian eventually learns: memory can preserve a story while changing its details.

That is why the records matter.

An Echo Worth Revisiting

Years ago, the Sandhills Family Heritage Association also preserved the story of Dr. John Taylor Williams and his connection to the Spout Springs area.

That early account kept his name before another generation.

Now census schedules, marriage records, newspapers and other historical sources allow us to return to his story and see it with greater clarity.

And there is much more.

There is more to learn about Peter and Flora Ann McKay Williams, the free Black couple who raised a large family in the Sandhills and placed such importance on educating their children.

There is Williams's long relationship with the AME Zion Church.

There are his years in Sierra Leone.

There is the family he created with his wife Jennie E. Harris Williams, herself an educated woman and graduate of Scotia Seminary and Livingstone College.

And there is their daughter, Aurelia Williams, who carried the family's educational tradition into another generation, becoming a public-school teacher of French and English in Charlotte.

The story that began with Flora teaching a little boy his letters did not end with him.

Neither did Dr. Williams's story end when he returned from Africa.

There were more years of medicine, business, community leadership and service before his death on June 8, 1924. He was laid to rest in Charlotte's Ninth Street Pinewood Cemetery.

But those are stories for another day.

For now, remember the young man the census taker found in Barbecue Township in 1880.

John Williams.

School Teacher.

Remember the mother who had first placed books before him.

Remember the father who found a way for his children to be taught.

And then remember the words North Carolinians would read eighteen years later:

Dr. John Taylor Williams had been confirmed as United States Consul to Sierra Leone.

From northern Cumberland County to Harnett County.

From the classroom to the medical school.

From Barbecue Township to Charlotte.

From Charlotte to Freetown.

The Sandhills had sent one of its sons into the world.

And we have only begun to tell his story.

More of the story of Dr. John Taylor Williams, his family, and the communities that shaped them will be included in a future volume of Echoes from the Sandhills.