Shaws who came all the way back to Kingstree

I left a Columbia McDonald’s with a large coffee and no easy way to get to Kingstree. Two hours and 110 miles separated me from the others at St. Paul. The coffee was cold and nasty by the time I passed Salem Black River Presbyterian Church 75 minutes later. Founded in 1759, this daughter of Kingstree’s Williamsburg Presbyterian Church, was the church of Dr. Ervin Shaw’s ancestors who settled west of Kingstree in the 1770s. He’s been searching for his roots since the 1960s.

I got to Kingstree with no time to spare but stopped at McDonald’s to trash my coffee. Rushing out, I heard Romerall and daughter Kyra call me. Romerall’s father, Maxwell Shaw, is my father’s brother. I lived in their Connecticut home while in college before her birth, but she calls me her brother. We chatted briefly and I left for St. Paul, waving at Uncle Maxwell talking to a man outside but he probably did not see me.

I passed Shaw’s Auto Electric, which opened in 1962 as Shaw’s Garage & Body Shop. Sylvester Shaw, Sr. and his brother ran the place for years. His son Sylvester continues a family tradition. In 1974, while driving to Kingstree, a highway patrolman stopped me near Coward because of a burned-out headlight. Coward was named for an area family. I told the officer I was almost home and would get the light fixed the next day. “You will get it fixed tonight at that station right there if you plan to drive tonight,” he barked. My new headlight lit up Highway 52 all the way to Kingstree.

Just past the town limit history repeated itself. “You from Connecticut? Your muffler too loud. We don’t allow that down here,” the patrolman said.” I began to explain, I am almost home and…but stopped and politely asked if it could wait till next day. “Take it to Shaw’s Garage tomorrow,” he said. At Shaws, old pal Scottie Murray quickly fixed my car. Our great-great-grandfathers toiled on the same plantation. Several years ago in Kingstree, my car was acting up again. The Rev. C.B. Dunn of Cedar Grove Baptist Church stopped and said: “Shaw’s Garage is the best place to get a car fixed in Kingstree.”

I passed Shaw Corner Road and finally reached St. Paul United Methodist Church, my family’s church for decades. St. Paul is on a road named for Dr. Henry Tisdale, president of Orangeburg’s Claflin University. Barbara and fiancé, William, drove from Florida. She, Dr. Tisdale and I are all great-great-grandchildren of H.D. Shaw’s former slave Joe who bought land nearby in 1874. Sharon flew from California and her cousin Robert and his wife Joyce came from Texas. Angela and husband Billy came from New Mexico and Tiffany was driving from Atlanta. On this spring day, we were all the way back to a place our forefathers left long ago. I had never met any of them, but this was another step in a journey that began long before any of us were born.

I regularly visit quiet spots where the remains of those with untold stories are deposited. My young daughter once called a cemetery “the place where dead people lived.” I don’t believe in ghosts, but gravestones are alive and can speak. The others were already viewing Shaw graves when I arrived. Sadly, during a visit years ago, Rev. Sellers said vandals had visited before me.

The Shaw Corner Road Shaws remained closest to the site of our American roots after emancipation, so I stopped at Shaw’s Garage. My cousins interviewed Sylvester Shaw as if he were a celebrity. His story began with the birth of mulatto John Wesley Shaw on H.D. Shaw’s place in the 1840s. He married Fannie, a Jamaican woman. In the 1870s and ‘80s, they lived near, Isaac Shaw, great-great-great-grandfather of Sylvester’s wife, Sherri, Barbara and me. John Wesley Shaw’s son received his name beginning its frequent reoccurrence in the family. The son also married a “Fannie.” In 1915, The County Record, the local paper cited his 555-lb. bale of cotton as the county’s first. His son was Sylvester, Sr. and neighbors were Joe Shaw’s granddaughter Carrie Shaw Fulton’s family with daughters called, Sugg, Sweetie, and Honey. Another daughter came in 1931. Her brother C.J. said the young Sylvester Shaw, Sr. asked to name her “Coffee.” His request was rejected in favor of “Daughter.” She was buried at St. Paul early last year.

Educators in Sylvester’s family would have been proud of his lecture. His uncle James Shaw taught for years and served on the school board. James’ wife, Essie, began her 37-year teaching career at Shaw Corner School. Sylvester’s first cousin, Altormeaze Shaw taught locally for 31 years while her sister Othella Evans taught for more than 35 years in Georgia and his sister, Joyce Battiste taught in Orangeburg for 31 years.

My daughter Angela Shaw-Thornburg was the 2009-2010 Professor of the Year at S.C. State University, where the first lady was retired educator Diane Shaw Cooper, another cousin of Sylvester. The arrival of Diane and President Cooper in Orangeburg in 2008 was tempered by the death of cousin Reginald Shaw who served as chief financial officer at Claflin. Reginald’s sister, Rosa met future husband James Hereford while teaching in Virginia.

Othella Evans’ son Willie Franklin Evans was profiled on these pages recently. He earned six university degrees and taught at six universities before coming to S.C. State in 2012. In 2013 and 2015 he served as interim president. With leaders of Claflin and S.C. State having roots on Shaw’s plantation it is evident how far we have come. Evans was recently named President of Voorhees College in Denmark.

We traveled down Shaw Corner Road to Highway 377, site of H.D. Shaw’s plantation. In 1860, he owned nine horses, nine mules, 25 milk cows, two oxen, 80 other cattle, 50 sheep, 100 hogs and 113 Negroes. The Civil War ended slavery and he died in 1866. Our legacy is still painful, but we follow our road wherever it goes. Dr. Ervin Shaw, a white retired pathologist, and genealogist wrote in 2004 “I had to come to terms with the fact that I am the descendant of slaveholders. Though sad…none of us could change the facts of our history...and I doubt the people in those times had much if any control over the way the times were.”

Henry D. Shaw’s son, J.P. Shaw, inherited his place and lived until 1922. Some of our forefathers remained nearby. As Shaw’s wife, Mary Agnes, was dying in the spring of 1931 she arranged for blacks on the place to sing at her funeral at Williamsburg Presbyterian Church. On May 28, 1931, The County Record noted, “Mrs. Shaw will be sadly missed by many…especially the colored people.”

Her daughter Jane married J.W. Coward whose family gave their name to Coward, the scene of my 1974 headlight incident. Jane Coward taught at the Shaw School. In 2003, I spoke with Serena Staggers, a black retired educator and childhood neighbor of the Cowards. Her mother taught at a school on Shaw Corner Road. Mary Jane Coward Richardson, granddaughter of J.W. and Jane Shaw Coward and a retired teacher is the current owner of the plantation site.

James M. Shaw, the brother of J.P. Shaw, left Kingstree for Texas in 1888. In 1901, he wrote The County Record, “Although I have been away…13 years, I still feel a great deal of interest in the old county and its people.” He returned to Kingstree several times before dying 1,200 miles away in Texas in 1927, six weeks before Joe Shaw died in Kingstree. In 2002, I contacted his Texas descendants. The next year his great-granddaughter Jane Daugherty, wrote about a 1988 trip to Kingstree to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the family’s move to Texas. She also wrote, “Thanks to Jane Richardson, I feel like I already knew your family.”

In 2003 J.M. Shaw’s last living grandchild, Doris Cartier, wrote from Texas “I feel a strong connection to you in South Carolina. My wish is that you will always be proud your ancestors chose to keep the Shaw name.” I kept in touch with Doris and her husband for 12 years until her memory faded. She sent photos of her grandfather, J.M. Shaw, and her 1942 wedding notice from a Texas newspaper. Four years ago, I mailed them a card postmarked “Kingstree, SC 29556.” for their 71st wedding anniversary.

On this spring day, however, my mind was in turmoil. Despite corresponding with H.D. Shaw’s descendants 1,000 miles away, I had never tried to contact one living in Kingstree. I had photographed her trees from the highway 15 years ago. Stepping onto her property with cousins from so far away, we knew our visit was long overdue. Finding no one at home, we left disappointed. In the eyes of the law, we were trespassers. Even our photos of her beautiful moss draped trees could incriminate us. However, we knew that we stood on hallowed ground. One visitor from the West noted later that they did not have trees. We are grateful for the trees in Kingstree.

“Honey” Fulton’s son, Ernest and Tomlinson High School band played 50 years ago when Dr. King visited Kingstree, in part to promote Paul Murray’s run for road commissioner. Victory by Murray, grandson of H.D. Shaw’s slave Tom Shaw made him the county’s first modern black elected official. He was also my deacon at Oak Grove Baptist Church and 20 years ago, I wrote in these pages of his influence on my early life.

In 2013, his granddaughter, Jacqueline, called and said “I read your story about my grandfather on Aunt Carolyn’s wall in Dallas.” At Oak Grove we saw the name “P. Murray” on a cornerstone. One of the westerners mischievously rang the ancient church bell that announced death generations ago and we left suddenly. Driving down Paul Murray Road, we passed the home he lived in until his 1968 death, six months after Dr. King was killed in Memphis. At the Crossroads Cemetery, we saw his gravestone and graves of my son, his son Scottie, who quieted my car at Shaw’s Garage in 1974 and his son Gilbert, the father of Jacqueline. We wish Jacqueline, a fellow searcher, could have joined us, but she is protecting our country.

Dr. King was appalled that 11:00 a.m. on Sunday mornings was the most segregated hour in this nation under God. Slaves were not allowed to have separate churches. They joined the master’s church, but not as equal Christians. I had seen the slave gallery in the Salem Black River Presbyterian Church so; we visited the historic Williamsburg Presbyterian Church. Mother of more than 30 churches as far away as Texas, it was the church of Shaws, black and white. Prior to the Civil War, most of its members were slaves of H.D. Shaw and others. As an elder from 1834 to 1863, his recordings of the first names of our enslaved ancestors enable us to read them 170 years later. Our trip took us between Kingstree Cemetery with its black Shaws and Williamsburg Presbyterian Cemetery and its white Shaws.

We drove down the Manning Highway, pass my birthplace and the place where my wife grew up on land Tom Shaw bought in 1873 after leaving J.M. Shaw’s land. We visited the McGill Cemetery where Tom and his descendants are buried.

Our forefathers displayed courage in venturing so far from the source of our American roots. I am humbled that in 2017, their children came all the way back to Kingstree. Anthony Shaw, born around 1843, said in a 1909 “I was born a slave on William Tisdall’s (Tisdale’s) plantation in Williamsburg District” In 1840, Tisdale owned 26 slaves and his stepfather/brother-in-law, H.D. Shaw, owned 63 including at least two Joes. Anthony’s mother was Tisdale’s slave Betsy and his father was one of Shaw’s Joes.

Anthony served with the U.S. Colored Troops in the S.C. Lowcountry from the war’s end until early 1866. In 1867, he moved to Marlin, Texas, about 60 miles from Bartlett, where H.D. Shaw’s son J.M. settled later. Anthony died in 1941, in Marlin and his son Elijah who was born in 1889, died three years after his father. Elijah’s son, Calvin Shaw, was born in Texas and died in New Mexico in 1986. Calvin’s son Robert Shaw lived from 1936 to 2013 and was the father of Angela Shaw.

Angela Shaw-Ross and her husband Billy are living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Sharon is not descended from Anthony but speculates the families are related and she and Angie have coordinated their search. Sharon was instrumental in the restoration of the Texas cemetery where so many of the Shaws from Kingstree are buried.

Harvey and Eliza Shaw were born in SC but moved to Marlin at the same time as Anthony. There was a neighborhood of Shaws in Marlin in 1870. Page 40 of the census listed 40 names comprising six families with three other names extending to page 41. All 43 were black. There was one McClary and 42 Shaws. Peter McClary and 35 of the Shaws were born in S.C. The other eight were born in Texas to S.C. born parents in between 1866 and 1870.

Contemporary news accounts were not kind to our forefathers. The Charleston Daily News’ January 18, 1867 reprint from The Kingstree Star said, “…our village have been infested with the negroes who are congregating here in preparatory to migrating to Texas…We feel solicitude for these poor ignorant wanderers who have been raised among us.” This story appeared less than two weeks after a Kingstree jail fire killed all 22 black prisoners while the lone white prisoner was rescued by jail staff.

Carolina Shaw was born to Harvey and Eliza in the spring of 1877. He married Viola Thomas and Jessie Lou, Oletha and Bernice Shaw were just three of their 15 children. Carolina, a daughter and his wife Viola all died during a five-month period in 1954.

Sharon Johnson Styles noted “My mother, Bernice Shaw Johnson, is the youngest child of Carolina and Viola. My parents were born and raised in Marlin. When dad returned from Korea, they got married and three days later caught a train to California. My brothers and I were born and raised there. In my early 20s, I moved to Texas and remained for nearly 20 years before returning to California in 1998.”

Jessie Lou Shaw married Robert Dary and their son Robert Carl Dary was born in Fort Worth, Texas. Jessie Lou died there in 2007 at 81. Her son Robert married Joyce Newton in 1990. Sharon and Robert are first cousins. One of them described the other as “my favorite cousin.” The Darys are living in Fort Worth.

Barbara, Tiffany and I are descended from Isaac Shaw, who lived from 1808 until about 1884. Barbara and I are great-great-grandchildren of his son, Joe Shaw, who lived from 1833 to 1927. My parents briefly moved to Durham, North Carolina, where they were so miserable that they returned in time for me to be born in Williamsburg County. Like millions of blacks, I spent time up the road before returning south four decades ago.

Barbara Ann Shaw was born to Christopher and Rosie Shaw in St. Petersburg, Florida. In 1995, she called me about a story I had written. Ironically, the editor of this newspaper titled my story “Comin’ Home.” I contacted Barbara in 2002. However, we never met until this spring morning more than 20 years after our first contact.

Driving up Highway 52 to lunch at Brown’s Bar-B-Que, we passed the site of a tragic accident that occurred nearly 60 years earlier. In the 1950s my grandparents John and Rosa Shaw were neighbors of Barbara’s grandparents Eddie and Estelle Shaw. Estelle died in January of 1958. Just seven weeks later Eddie Shaw was killed by a car while walking along Highway 52. A second car then ran over his body. Dimery and Rogers Funeral buried both in their Greenlawn Cemetery.

My grandfather occasionally worked for Johnie Dimery. One night in 1966, my father came home from Benevolent Society Hospital and said, “He’s gone.” The next day he sold grandpa’s mule to help pay for the funeral. Cosh Brown, my mother’s cousin who married my father’s sister, visited the colored Sam Tisdale Cemetery to pick a grave site, but found the place overgrown. The funeral was held at St. Paul Church with burial in Greenlawn. Mr. Dimery sold my grandpa land, employed him, located his mortuary in the former hospital, where he died and buried him in his cemetery, just yards from his house. My grandmother endured for another 15 years before dying 759 miles away in Connecticut.

Tiffany Mouzon arrived from Atlanta and joined us for lunch. She said “I am connected to Kingstree through my parents. My father was born and raised here. My mother was raised in Salters, Lane, Taft, Trio, and Blakely. I spent countless weekends, holidays, and summers here and am blessed to have spent time with my grandparents: Thomas Mouzon, Teaster James McFadden, Johnny Beaufort, Margaret Frazier Beaufort, and Lily Fluitt Beaufort.”

Tiffany’s great-great-grandmother Mary Anne Shaw Fluitt was the sister of Joe Shaw the great-great-grandfather of Barbara, Dr. Henry Tisdale, and me. She married Moses Fluitt and their offspring are the Fluitts and Browns of Salters and Lane. Mary Shaw Fluitt died in 1922. Her granddaughter, Lillie married Frank Beaufort. Ironically, I have been digging into Marion Beaufort’s roots. In the process, I discovered Frank Beaufort’s line, but could not document a relationship between the two and had not yet discovered Tiffany. Frank and Lillie Fluitt Beaufort of Salters were the grandparents of Tiffany’s mother Helen Beaufort Mouzon.

Helen and husband William Mouzon left Kingstree for Jonesboro, Georgia, near Atlanta. Jonesboro was the site of Tara, the fictional plantation in Gone With the Wind. In 2002, Margaret Shaw Peletier, great-great-granddaughter of H.D. Shaw wrote from Texas that in 1939, her future parents saw Gone With the Wind on their first date and got married soon afterward.

Tiffany studied international economics, spent a summer in Costa Rica and earned a degree from Emory University.

She worked for one of the largest minority-owned legal firms in the nation before going to South America to serve humanity in the Peace Corps. She recently graduated from law school. During lunch, she talked about working to preserve the Gullah Geechee culture along our coast. Despite our travels, some of us still retain traces of the Gullah Geechee speech pattern. As a college student in Connecticut, my lovely accent garnered a referral to a speech therapist. I uttered a few words before the therapist asked how long I had been in the United States.

We viewed gravestones in Greenlawn without finding unmarked graves of Barbara’s grandparents or mine but, we did find the grave of Tiffany’s grandfather, Thomas Mouzon. We passed the old Kelly Memorial Hospital and visited the abandoned Dimery and Rogers Funeral Home. We photographed a marker noting the building was once the Benevolent Societies Hospital where Dr. Mason and his nurse Louvenia Chandler treated black patients beginning in 1947. From the old mortuary, we descended on the new Dimery and Rogers Funeral Home to request help in locating unmarked graves. One visitor from out west even got a mortuary staff to photograph us in front of the “Welcome to Kingstree” sign so that every cousin could document our visit by posing in front of a message that said all we needed to know.

We passed the monument to a conflict that took a generation of southern white males to places where white men too poor to own a single slave did most of the dying. A stepson of H.D. Shaw fell at Gettysburg in the summer of 1863. Our forefather’s freedom was bought with the blood of thousands of men, white and black. Former slave Anthony Shaw was one of nearly 180,000 blacks to serve the Union and nearly 37,000 died. It is estimated that a 10th of all Union forces were black as the war ended.

The history books say H.D. Shaw and “loyal blacks” burned a bridge to keep Yankees from reaching Kingstree. However, romanticized notions of legions of Black Confederates are myths. Over 90 percent of all southern blacks were slaves and no sane Confederate leader would have seriously considered giving guns to men who couldn’t be trusted with a book containing the very words of God. Blacks did aid the Confederacy in non-combat roles and slaves such as Joe Shaw went off to war and loyally served their masters. Joe was granted a pension for his service to the Confederacy in 1923. He received $7 in 1923 and $8.50 in 1927, the year he died. Joe Shaw was a slave, not a soldier.

As our visit ended, cousins reminisced about the genesis of incredible journeys. Mine started nearly 40 years ago. I come back often, but occasionally to visit special places rather than family only to be spotted before escaping. I was leaving the courthouse once when my special nephew Joey saw me and told the world that I was in town. On another occasion, I got out of town without being seen, but stopped at a Greeleyville store. As I was leaving, I could hear my father from the other side of the store, speaking as only he can.

Barbara was born to Columbus and Rosie Shaw 500 miles south of Kingstree in St. Petersburg, Florida. She said “I started my journey as family historian after the death of Aunt Eula’s husband Uncle Gilbert Stewart in 1987. I still remember that day vividly. Aunt Eula and I were reminiscing about family members long gone when I decided to write the information down. She gave me names I had never heard and some that revealed who other family members were named for. I was hooked and my journey began. I am still as excited today, with each new discovery, as I was that day over 30 years ago.”

Growing up in Texas, Robert Dary knew little about his paternal family. He encountered roadblocks when he attempted to learn about them in the 1970s. He said “Nobody seemed interested in this type of research and the resources and technology didn’t exist. So, I put it on the back burner. The fire never went out, but stayed very low for years. Decades later my cousin Sharon started interviewing elderly relatives and I videotaped some of them talking and things just exploded from that point.”

Sharon added “when I lived in Texas, my mother, Bernice Shaw Johnson, still had three sisters living in Ft. Worth. They shared stories with me before I officially started researching and I could kick myself for not writing things down.” Sharon began her search after the death of a family member in California in 2007. She said “I quickly realized, genealogy was my destiny. My dad was a natural born storyteller and would launch into a story at the drop of hat. Fortunately, I could share my findings with him before he died.” Mom’s an equally great storyteller when she feels like it. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve my parents or visiting relatives telling family stories about Texas. Those stories came back to me when I officially started researching. That is when I first contacted Ernest, Sadie Allen, whose Shaw family migrated to Texas from Sumter, and Dr. Ervin Shaw.”

Robert and Sharon were inspired by their Aunt Oletha Shaw Collins. “I discovered she kept a treasure of information right under our noses without anyone realizing it,” said Robert. Sharon described her mother’s sister as the “family griot.” She was well over 80, but she remembered all the aunts, uncles, cousins and in-laws. She had obituaries, newspaper clippings, photos and church bulletins. She shared everything with me. I spent hours on the phone with her listening to stories and asking questions. She whispered whenever she told me something sensitive. I strained to hear her and in turn, I whispered. She was unable to speak her last few years following a stroke. My cousin, Jackie Dary, Robert’s sister, cared for her until she died. My mother was unable to attend her funeral and I was honored to fly to Texas for her home going service.”

Sharon continued “I believe Aunt Oletha was chosen to collect and preserve the Shaw Family history until someone else came along to ask for it. I believe only a few people in each family are chosen for this role. Sometimes there’s only one. But one committed person is enough. Aunt Oletha and Uncle Luther were married more than 60 years and never had children. But she left a legacy that will last a lifetime and we all owe her a debt of gratitude for keeping the history until we came along to ask for it.”

“I contacted Jackie Murray-Bonno in Columbia and Sherrell Nesmith in New Haven, Connecticut. Ernest, you were able to give them detailed information on how they are related to you and the Kingstree area. You have no idea how much I wished those stories included my family. The stories were so achingly beautiful they brought tears to my eyes” Sharon added.

Tiffany said “I started my research while in high school because I was intrigued by the oral stories from my ancestors. They all consistently stressed the importance of each generation learning our genealogy and imparted an obligation to teach future generations.”

New technology aided our effort. Sharon said “DNA testing and Ancestry.com made it easier to reach new people. Robert expressed similar thoughts with “Now I have so much information at my fingertips. That little fire on the back burner all those years has now moved to the front burner and is on the highest setting possible, and so is my passion to pursue my ancestry as far as I can go!” It is even suggested that technology can be utilized for a larger purpose. Dr. Ervin Shaw and I live eight miles apart across the Lake Murray Dam. He wrote in 2004, “Imagine: Civil War, Reconstruction, segregation, civil rights ...and now some of us are connecting via genealogy! Could it be that we family genealogists will be a factor toward greater and more widespread degrees of racial reconciliation? And... Surprise...you live not in Texas, but nearby in Irmo!!!” We are also grateful for the work of all of the local contributors to the Find a Grave website.

Sharon attended the 2016 Shaw Family Reunion in Marlin and described it as “wonderful!” She also said “Late last year, it was the suggested that we make a family research trip to Kingstree. I was completely on board! After reading your articles, I had to meet you. I had to visit Crossroads Cemetery. I had to see the land where H.D. Shaw enslaved so many African Americans; probably my ancestors. I had to see the place my ancestors left in 1867 and maybe find something or someone who could help me connect them to their family.

Amazingly, I met you, visited Crossroads Cemetery, saw the land where H.D. Shaw enslaved African Americans and the place my ancestors left in 1867. We collected information that may contain clues. We met so many wonderfully kind people and I’m hoping one of them will eventually remember something that will connect my family to theirs. I hope that someone will remember a story about a large group of people who left Kingstree 150 years ago heading to Texas in search of the warmth of other suns. We came back to bear witness they found it.” Sharon’s journey covered nearly 2800 miles.

Robert Dary called it “one of the most enlightening trips of my life, and I have been a few places but, none took me to the land where my ancestors lived. I realize that the tour was probably only a small piece of the puzzle in our family history but it provided much more than I ever expected. I now have a new perspective on family, life and this land I call home. Once again thanks for everything.”

Angela Shaw-Ross’ trip covered 1700 miles and she said “My journey from Albuquerque, New Mexico to Kingstree was to rejoin cousins that I met last year in Marlin, to continue our search for our family connection. We all had DNA tests done, made matches but did not know how we match. What I do know is we have a Shaw, Tisdale, McCrea, Bradley connections” I left Kingstree feeling grateful, humble and with more questions! My story is not over. This search continues and I’m glad to have Sharon and Barbara helping me. Thank you, Ernest. Taking the time to meet with us was priceless and appreciated. Maybe I’ll find out that you too are my cousin. Your resemblance to my grandfather Calvin Shaw is jaw dropping. My sister saw your picture and without me saying anything to her she pointed you out! Thank you so much for sharing the Shaw family history and showing us around. I had a wonderful time.”

We had to come to this place and our search will continue. Five days after our meeting, Barbara and Sharon attended services at St. Paul and visited Geneva Shaw Burgess, the oldest member of the family. By then Sharon had seen the 150-year-old news story about blacks gathering in Kingstree preparing to move to Texas. Nearly five weeks later, my wife and I returned to Shaw Corner Road where we met Kristin Richardson, the granddaughter of the current owner of the plantation site. Kristin quickly led us to her grandmother’s home and I will always be grateful to her.

After decades of seeking all things Shaw, and years of corresponding with descendants of H. D. Shaw in Texas, I finally met his living descendant in Kingstree.

I tried to introduce myself to Mary Jane Coward Richardson, but she said that she knew who I was. I apologized for taking so long to visit and promised not stay long. We exchanged pleasantries in her front yard but she soon invited us inside where we met her husband of 53 years.

With so much to say, we began saying it. I did not expect an apology from a person whose ancestor legally owned ours 150 years ago, and I did not get one. Instead, I got the opportunity to take a few more steps down our painful but joyful road. Our history was lived by our forefathers. Master and slave were actors in an American drama during a different time and both played their roles well. History must be studied as we both did, she at Francis Marion and me at Southern Connecticut State. We had a scholarly discussion about the Confederate monument and the Ku Klux Klan, but most of all we talked about all things Shaw and the shared heritage of the people of the Shaw Corner Road, community then and now. She talked about the role H.D. Shaw played in establishing the school on Shaw Corner Road to educate his ex-slaves.

Her husband asked if I had spoken with Sylvester Shaw. He choked up with emotions as he talked about visiting Shaw’s Garage decades ago and seeing a toy train that he wanted. It became a strand that sustained a lifetime relationship between him and the two Sylvesters with ongoing negotiations regarding the eventual acquisition of the toy.

History must be examined, shared and touched. Fifteen years ago a great-granddaughter of H.D. Shaw living in Texas wrote about a black Shaw saving items when the plantation house burned long ago. On this spring day, we got to touch H.D. Shaw’s walking cane with his initial carved on a coin on the handle. We listened to a music box that his son listened to 130 years ago. Mrs. Richardson said she has a copy of a story I wrote in 1994 in the family Bible rescued from the fire by a black Shaw. I got a hug from the descendant of the owner of our forefathers that Mr. Shaw gave his name to and ultimately to my cousins, me, my wife and my children. I promised to send her a copy of a photo of her kin who died in Texas 90 years ago.

We attempted to leave several times, but stayed so long and talked and listened so much that her husband said “you all have done the same thing that my wife’s cousins did when they came from Texas years ago. I was able to tell him that her cousins came in 1988, the 100th anniversary of his wife’s great-great granduncle’s move to Texas. I visited the great-great-great-great granddaughter of H.D. Shaw on behalf of my cousins whose ancestors left Kingstree so long ago and moved so far away. They came all the way back to Kingstree and I humbly took the last steps on their behalf.