Exploring South Carolina's Weird Folklore: Myths and Legends of the United States

Added: 2026-05-15

[00:00:05]Howdy duty folks and welcome back to my journey across the United States. Today we're talking once again about South Carolina's weird folklore and we're going to tell some crazy stories about people that tried to dig through the Appalachin Mountains of old African medicine that could supposedly sway court cases and of course of a crypted and a ghost. Now, quickly before we get into this, if you like this video, and you want to support this channel, all you've got to do is like this video, subscribe, and comment. It'll always be free, and it'll help my humble channel charge towards a million subscribers.

[00:00:39]Heck, it might even tell YouTube that I'm somewhat okay. With that, come with me, and let's explore some of South Carolina's weirdest lore.

[00:00:54]By the 1850s, Charleston was essentially being ghosted by the global economy. To the north, cities like New York and Baltimore had used the Eerie Canal and early railroads to snag the trade from the Midwest before Charleston even proverbally got out of bed. Heck, closer to home, Savannah, too, was aggressively building tracks straight into the heart of the South, effectively stealing Charleston's upstate customers and rerouting them to Georgia. toss in a pesky underwater sandbar at the mouth of Charleston's harbor that sort of acted like a you must be this tall to ride sign for the arrow's new larger cargo ships and the city was in a full-blown panic. Thus, some very confident South Carolinian businessmen in the midst of this struggle would throw a sort of Hail Mary, something that might just help them win this trade race even though their rivals had a multi-deade head start. See, they looked directly at the Appalachian Mountains, this sprawling ancient pile of rocks, and they said, "Yeah, we can just go through that, not around it like sane people." In short, they were going to dig a tunnel straight through the girth of the Appalachin Mountains. This idea principally was hatched by the Blue Ridge Railroad, headed by their president, Edward Frost, which was basically in and largely funded by Charleston merchants that were terrified their city was about to go under. That said, if they could accomplish digging a direct line to the Ohio River Valley, well, they might just have a chance to save the city. The plan, on paper, was a massive 13-mi stretch of track that required not one but four tunnels, with one tunnel in particular, named the Stumphouse Tunnel being the sort of final boss, as it was the largest. The idea, on paper, at least, was beautiful. In 1852, the state actually chartered the project, bankrolled by a $1 million ante from the city of Charleston and millions more in statebacked bonds and private investment from merchants that were desperate to save their port. By 1853, construction of this tunnel was in full swing, fueled by the cash of a legislature that hadn't yet seen the bill. It was classic 19th century optimism. right if they're with classics like this war will be over by Christmas and when I'm elected I'll save money and lower taxes crazy good stuff now to their credit they didn't half commit operation hired Anson Bangs a contractor who promised the world and delivered admittedly a pretty big hole through Anen roughly 1500 laborers were brought in mostly Irish immigrants and they were housed in a rough and tumble settlement at top the mountain called Tunnel Hill which had its own post office schools And being a 19th century work camp, at least a half a dozen saloons. Literally a city full of drunk people basically living on the edge of a blast zone. And here, armed with hammers, chisels, and a whole lot of black powder, as dynamite wouldn't exist for 15 years or so, they started chewing into the mountain. But the mountain, of course, spit back as they were working against blue granite, some of the hardest rock on the planet. Meaning any progress they made would be measured in inches. And on a good day, they might move two of the nearly 6,000 feet that they were attempting to dig. Therefore, as you might expect, by 1859, the budget for this project was less spreadsheet and more crime scene. South Carolina had already poured over a million bucks into the project. At a time when skilled laborers made about a dollar a day, and estimates to finish the line were spiraling towards $4 million. Governor William Jest and the legislature effectively pulled the plug when they realized the Blue Ridge Railroad was basically just a money pit disguised as a transit project. They'd then veto any remaining funding and order tools be dropped, leaving a 1617 ft tunnel dug into the wall of the Appalachian Mountains. And if there were any hope, this would one day make it a full 6,000 ft. Along came the American Civil War in 1861, which squaltched any and all remaining dreams of finishing it. What remained then, and still remains to this day, was a half-finished scar in the mountain, a 50°ree perpetually damp monument to ambition and perhaps hubris.

[00:05:02]Attempts were made to revive it in 1875, 1900, and even 1940, but each time it was estimated the cost of finishing those remaining 4,000 ft of granite would prove too much. Now, there was a slight turn in this saga that was a little unpredictable. As in 1940, a dairy scientist at the Clemson Agricultural College named Wayne Ror realized the tunnel stayed a constant 56° F with 90% humidity, making it a perfect place for blue cheese. And so, for decades, the tunnel, instead of being a transit operation, became a refrigerated dairy experiment. Clemson actually produced their first successful batch of Stumphouse Mountain Blue Cheese there, curing it in the same damp air the Irish miners had been breathing a century earlier. To the credit of the miners, while this was a horrible place for a train, it was a great place to make cheese. And this cheese operation was so successful that it eventually moved to a climate controlled room on campus when the tunnel became too popular with tourists. Otherwise though, today this tunnel sits near Valhalla, South Carolina with no real practical purpose. And for a fee of roughly five bucks per vehicle to park, you too can walk into it feeling the somewhat chilly air and admiring the sheer hubris it must have taken to think you could carve that much rock using only muscle and a little bit of black powder.

[00:06:27]Ghost stories are sort of the backbone of folklore, if you will, but it's not often that I come across one of them that falls into the category of weird in my personal opinion. That said, in South Carolina, there's a legend that calls one of your barrier islands home that highlights how malleable the truth is and the history of South Carolina very well. So well that I couldn't ignore it.

[00:06:49]This legend is that of Julia Leree. And first I'll tell you the legend itself before getting into the strange and macob truth behind it. This Julia was a member of the prominent Lree family. One of the plantation elites tied to the Charleston area in the early to mid 1800s. These folks weren't just random beachgoers on the island. Nope. Rather they were the social and economic fabric of the coastal South Carolina region. a region that was shaped by plantation agriculture, slavery, and seasonal migration of elites between inland South Carolina and sea islands like Disto Island, which is the setting of this story. Julia, in most versions of this tale, is a child. And they say that after her family traveled to the island, she quickly fell ill, likely from malaria, yellow fever, or diptheria, and that shortly after contracting this illness, she would enter a coma in which she would simply waste away. After a few days, she hadn't woken up and a doctor would check her out and of course proclaim that she had died. Thus, Julia would be taken to her family mausoleum at the Edisto Island Presbyterian Church where a funeral was held. Julia was placed inside and the church's large marble doors were sealed shut. Julia, it seems, would forever rest here. And this is where this story would remain for 15 years. That said, as sadly happens, after these 15 years, there would be a second death in the family. Thus, given the Leree mausoleum was on this island, they would again converge here. A funeral was again held, and this other family member would be set to be placed inside of the mausoleum. But what they found inside was very much unexpected.

[00:08:28]Rather than Julia and the other family members bodies being confined to the walls of the crypt, they found that Julia's casket was burst open and Julia's now crumpled body was lying at the floor of the heavy marble doors which bore scratch marks and evidence of being struck with bits of stone. In short, this was evidence that Julia was not in fact dead when she was placed in here. Instead, she suffered what must have been the most horrifying death imaginable, being destined to spend her final days locked inside of a crypt, screaming for help upon deaf ears. After this alleged discovery, this story says that Julia was reenterred and the door was sealed again, and life continued, though the family members would be haunted by this finding forever. And that's the story. And it's just a story, right? Well, not quite. In reality, there's quite a bit of truth to the story, as well as very interesting historical context behind it. See, Julia Leree was very real. In reality, she was named Julia Georgiana Sebrook, having been born on November 18th of 1829. And while history doesn't say much about her, we know she had a child in 1847 named Hugh after marrying John Leree and after joining their prominent family sometime before that. And speaking of which, the Lree family was quite prominent. They were a plantation family and they owned a huge cotton plantation on Disto Island. These coastal islands, by the way, were prime agricultural land back in the day. They were very fertile. Thus, there were many plantations on them. That said, they were also very dangerous, especially for Charleston's white elite population.

[00:10:13]See, malaria was not very historically common in Europe. So, white European lineage socialites like the lerees lacked the natural immunity of the enslaved people to this disease. And I kid you not, I thought this fact was made up at first, but in regions where malaria was historically common, like parts of subsaharan Africa, natural selection favored certain genetic traits that provide partial protection against severe forms of the disease. The most well-known example of this is the cickle cell trait, not cickle cell anemia, where people who carry one copy of this trait are less likely to develop life-threatening malaria caused by plasmodium falsaporum. There are also other protective traits like the duffy null blood group which makes individuals resistant to one species of malaria parasite. This is all to say in the summer when mosquito populations were at their highest, it was practically a death sentence for white people to be on these islands. So enslaved people often remained behind on their own. That said, when it cooled down and mosquito populations declined, the white elites would often travel down to their more fashionable island homes. This story hinges on one sad fact, though, that these cooler days meant less mosquitoes and less mosquito-born illness, but not zero. See, in reality, it was one of these cooler days when Julia fell ill while visiting her family's estate.

[00:11:38]Julia, they say, would, as the legend says, be sick for quite a while. That said, no doctor ever offered an official diagnosis. But true to the story, she'd eventually slip into a coma and ultimately on April 15th of 1852, she would pass away at the age of 23 after being taken back to their home in Charleston. John Leree had already made plans for the family to be laid to rest in their mausoleum here at the Adisto Island Presbyterian Church, which had been in operation on this island since 1685.

[00:12:11]That said, John never anticipated this mausoleum would be used so soon.

[00:12:16]Regardless, a funeral would be held, and Julia would be the first member of the family laid to rest in their mausoleum.

[00:12:24]They'd put her inside, seal the door shut, and that was that. That said, much like in the story, they'd have to open it again in reality after 2 years instead of 15 to bury none other than Julia's son, Hugh, who actually passed away at the age of seven after a short battle with some illness that was unnamed. And just like in the story, upon opening up the mausoleum to insert him, they would find Julia's remains lying by the marble doors. By her position and the fact that her casket was busted open, it seemed indisputable that Julia had been sealed alive inside of this marble prison. And in contrast to the legend, she was hardly even able to scratch the hard walls of her enclosure. John, they say, was shaken by this to the extent that he never really recovered. And he would join his child and wife just 2 years later in this mausoleum where they would all finally be interred together. And as you might expect, you can't have horrors like this play out and just go back to normal.

[00:13:27]Thus, this mausoleum, rumors say, became the setting for one of the state's most famous hauntings. Legend said that after the family was buried, both cemetery workers and church visitors alike would enter the graveyard from time to time only to find the heavy marble mausoleium doors were open. And even when they were diligently resealed, they would still find a way to wiggle open, exposing the caskets inside. These observers, of course, over time claimed that this was the ghost of Julia, trying to escape well after her tragedy had played out.

[00:14:02]Because of this oddity and the fact that they couldn't keep the doors closed, they would eventually just remove them, and the Leree family would instead be buried in the ground beneath the mausoleum, which seemed to cease any and all paranormal activity. Most today claim that so long as they leave these doors open, Julia will remain at rest.

[00:14:28]In South Carolina, while there are certainly tales of Bigfooted beasts, gray ghosts that foretell storms, and of course, a man with a third eye living underneath the University of South Carolina's campus, the most well-known and storied crypted is one named the Lizard Man of Scape or Swamp. And the thing is, while almost every story you read about this creature starts with the admittedly interesting flap of sightings in 1988, they often get the start date wrong in my opinion. Because this isn't just some modern phenomenon. There are actually roots that date this legend all the way back to the time when only Native Americans roamed these lands. The native story of Lizard Man, or at least what some people say is Lizard Man, tells of a group of Native American hunters who had set up camp deep in the wilderness, far enough out that turning back wasn't really convenient. One day, one of them comes back near dusk, calm, but a little bit confused, and he says something along the lines of, "Hey, I found a big tree. A big one, hollow.

[00:15:30]Looks like a bear's been living in it."

[00:15:32]And the rest of the group, being hunters and all, go, "Perfect. Tomorrow we will smoke it out. So morning comes and the native people head out and sure enough they find this tree. It indeed looks like a bear has been living inside of it. Even if something about those scratches on its side are a bit off.

[00:15:50]Still, the plan's the plan. So they build a fire at the base and they let the smoke billow up into the hollow. And then they wait. And sure enough, something does come out. But this something is not a bear or anything they expected to see living inside of a tree.

[00:16:06]It was a massive lizard. And here the panic ensues. At this point, all of the native hunters would run. And this lizard, it would pursue. And while these native men were fast, this lizard thing was ungodly fast. One by one, it would chase the hunters down, catch them, and drag them into its lair, tossing them inside, going back and forth until it was able to get them all except for one.

[00:16:30]Now, this last individual was quite far away at this point. But somehow, this lizard creature caught up to him, too.

[00:16:37]But as it grabbed him, and as it was hauling him back to its hollow through the woods, something else entered the chat. A panther that was otherwise minding its own business. But upon seeing the lizard man, it would decide that he wanted some of that smoke. So he would pounce the lizard man, who in turn would drop the normal man, and the normal man would run off as those two went after each other. Thus, this man would run, and without looking back, he would get all the way home, where he would recount this story of a lizard creature to his village. Thus, while there's nothing definitive in the world of cryptids, many take this to be the first run-in with the lizard man ever recorded in regional folklore. And from here we jump to modern day. Again, quickly not to be a pain, but most sources get the start date wrong for the modern sightings, too. Now, don't get me wrong, the coming 1988 sightings were definitely more exciting than this one, but this first modern account of Lizard Man actually occurred a year or so earlier in 1987 when one George Hollyman Jr. was riding his bicycle near the Skateore Swamp close to Bishopville, South Carolina. This George would stop for a smoke break because I definitely love huffing some of that backhoe when I'm in the middle of my daily cardio.

[00:17:52]And in the middle of this smoke break, he would observe, I quote, a 7 to 8 foot tall reptilian humanoid with red glowing eyes. Then, as a car approached George and the creature, whatever this thing was, would slowly return to the swamp.

[00:18:06]My impression is this is the alleged first sighting of the lizard man, though George Holyman wouldn't actually end up reporting it until the middle of the 1988 lizard man flap. Thus, with this first sighting behind us, we move on to the real meat and bones of this case, June 29th of 1988. In this instance, it was about 2 am in the morning, and one Christopher Davis, a local 17-year-old, was driving home from work when he popped one of the tires on his 1982 Ford LTD while driving on Browntown Road bordering the skateore swamp. Now, Christopher, it seems, was used to this, or at least prepared for it, as he would hop out, grab his jack, and start changing the tire. But lo and behold, while he was wrapping this up and tossing the limp wheel and Jack back in his trunk, he heard something off, a sort of thumping noise. And when he looked to his right, a creature, something sort of lizard-like and large, was about 25 yd away and galloping towards him with glowing red eyes and three long fingers with black nails. It also, of course, had scales. According to Davis, while he managed to get back inside of his car before it snagged him, this creature would latch onto the vehicle's roof with its sharp claws, holding on to the accelerating Ford LTD, which admittedly isn't that impressive given its 0 to 60 was about 14 seconds.

[00:19:30]Regardless, it was only removed when Davis slammed on his brakes and swerved from side to side, after which he was able to get away. Davis would then return home, only to find that his side view mirror and the car's roof were scratched to high heavens. And this was just the start. In the month or so after Davis's report, these sightings, like any good flap, would increase. Most notably, whatever this beast was, it seemed to have a hankering for attacking cars. For example, a couple weeks after Davis's encounter, a car near the swamp had its fenders ripped off and its antenna was bent with its chrome trim being clearly chewed off. There were also sightings by locals of this scaly beast with the police being called out because of it on multiple occasions and the sheriff once made plaster casts of three-toed footprints in the swamp mud that were about 14 in long. Admittedly, the sheriff, one list in Trudale, thought these were made by a prankster, though, rather than being those of a genuine lizard person. This is to the dismay of local Bigfoot enthusiasts who were certain what they were grappling with was a skunk ape of some variety.

[00:20:40]For what it's worth, Johnny Evans, the South Carolina Marine Resources Department spokesperson, clearly stated these at least were not the footprints of any known animal. Although he did heir on the side of these footprints all in all just being fakes. Regardless, real or not, lots of people wanted in on this action. So tourists would flock to Bishopville, the skateboard swamp, and even the nearby Congerey National Park looking for this beast with many reports of folks getting warded off for loitering in the area after dark in the months following the lizard man sighting. And also the nearby radio station WCOS further sloppied things up by offering a $1 million reward for the capture of the lizard man. Regardless, by the time July passed, these sightings were functionally over and done. With the exception of the story's final breath, the August 5th sighting of Kenneth Ore, an airman based out of Shaw Air Force Base. Kenneth, you see, filed a whole dang police report that he claimed he saw the lizard man along Highway 15, and that he went so far as to shoot it, and he had bloody scales to prove it. Of course, all this got him was an arraignment for unlawfully carrying a firearm and a misdemeanor for filing a hoax police report because as you might expect, or would eventually claim this was a hoax after all, because he just wanted to keep this fun lizard man story going. Now, don't get me wrong, I would call or a little bit dumb for this, but honestly, I love folklore so much. So, buddy, thank you for taking one for team story time. Regardless, after this, with the exception of a 2015 photo of the lizard man that admittedly looks like a costume from a 1970s Godzilla film and a bloody beaten up car in 2008 that when tested showed this was likely the work of a dog rather than a reptile, this lizard man has gone quiet.

[00:22:30]Not necessarily in terms of the occasional sightings, but definitely in terms of hard evidence. So, quickly, let's consider if there was any credence to this original story told about Mr. Lizard. For starters, I will say when there's a native story in a region about a crypted that's later seen, I tend to buy it a bit more. Full stop. I'm not saying I believe these stories, but it makes me humor them and it makes me scratch my chin. Now, what doesn't make me scratch my chin, though, is that Davis's sighting, the real meat and potatoes of the saga, is sort of squirmy. It changes a bit, and it doesn't always make sense. For instance, how at 2 am do you get a detailed look at this creature approaching your car at speeds that allowed it to latch onto it as you drove away? Further, these descriptions from Davis varied from being scaly to being covered in mud from story to story, though I guess it could have been scaly and covered in mud.

[00:23:24]Further, Davis did pass a polygraph test at one point, which was reported quite widely. But this polygraph appears to be a publicity stunt by a company called Southern Marketing. Oh, and all that damage, you know, the damage to Davis's car, his roof, and his mirrors being scratched up, nobody, and I mean nobody, ever saw this damage. It was never photographed. And the claims about damages by Davis himself and interviews ranged from this wide-ranging scratches on my roof and mirrors claim to, "Oh, it just scratched my fender a little bit. I was lucky." It just isn't consistent.

[00:24:00]There's also one fringe theory that Davis really did see something, or better put someone. As on this same evening in June of 1988, a local butterbean farmer named Lucius Elmore was watching his property near the Skateore Swamp when he claimed that he heard a tire blow. Now, Lucius was watching his property for a reason at 2 a.m. He'd recently been a victim of thieves who were stealing stuff from a shed. So when he saw Davis, in his words, he said he'd run out to confront him, thinking he was one of these thieves. And Davis, sure enough, upon seeing him, would scream and run off.

[00:24:36]Again, this is just one man's word. But according to Lucius Elmore, he in fact was pretty much the lizard man. Thus, what do you think? Do you think there's a crypted in the skate or swamp? Or was it just a humble butterbean farmer looking to tell a kid literally to get off his lawn?

[00:24:58]In the late 1700s, when powdered wigs were still a personality trait and the British Empire was very busy reminding everyone that it owned basically everything, South Carolina became very inconvenient to the British Empire.

[00:25:11]Because instead of plightly losing its struggle with the British Empire, like a respectable colony, it produced three men who sounded less like military officers and more like rejected Hogwarts house mascots. The swamp fox, the Gamecock, and the Wizard Owl. And no, this is not a joke. So, first enters the swamp fox, Francis Marian. If you were a British officer in 1780 and someone told you, "Don't worry, sir. He's just a small limping man hiding in a swamp. You might feel pretty good about your odds and that would be a huge mistake.

[00:25:44]Francis Marian, you see, was a veteran of the French and Indian War where he learned asymmetric warfare from the Cherokee and had a limp from breaking his ankle from jumping from a second story window to escape a dinner party where the host had locked his doors to force everyone to keep drinking. It's actually because of this injury that he wasn't in Charleston when it fell, allowing him to stay free and also to start his guerilla warfare campaign.

[00:26:11]Francis Marion earned the nickname Swamp Fox because he did something profoundly rude in the context of 18th century warfare. He refused to fight properly.

[00:26:21]He didn't fight in neat lines or move to some drum roll. Most heinously, he also didn't stand around getting shot at like a gentleman. Rather, Marion and his men would live in the muddy mosquito-infested swamps, miserable places that the British troops avoided like common sense. And from there, Marion and his crew popped out, wrecked supply lines, ambushed patrols, and disappeared again like a very humid ghost with malaria. He basically invented the hidden run. And he loved to strike at night before vanishing into the PD River swamps where British cavalry horses couldn't follow. And the British absolutely hated this as they of course preferred wars where you could see the enemy while Marion preferred fights where you could not. Thomas Sumpter the Gamecock on the other hand didn't hide. Rather Sumpter fought like a man who had been personally offended by the concept of British authority which to be fair he had been. See in May of 1780 Thomas Sumpter was living a quiet life on his plantation near Statesburg, South Carolina. As a retired officer, he was not looking for a fight.

[00:27:28]But the British were about to give him one anyways. See, after capturing Charleston, the British sent pacification parties into the back country to disarm rebels and intimidate anyone who had ever held an American commission, and Sumpter was at the top of their list. Lieutenant Colonel Banister Tarlton ordered a raid to kill him and prevent a local uprising, but Sumpter received a lastminute tip about this. Thus, he would narrowly escape, fleeing on a saddleless horse in his pajamas of all things with nothing but a rifle and probably a nasty chafe on his own undercarriage from that horse thing.

[00:28:04]Thus, in a final act of spite, though they couldn't get some himself, the British burned his home to the ground while his paralyzed wife was forced to watch from the lawn. It was a massive strategic blunder, though, because they hadn't just destroyed a house, they had turned a civilian into their worst nightmare. After this, Sumpter took his story to the local settlers, motivating a local militia and raising a force of several hundred men who were just as angry as he was. These men didn't wear uniforms, but in their civilian clothing, they fought with whatever they had, fueled by the Gamecock's singular desire to make the British regret crossing his threshold. Also on the topic of this gamecock, he earned this nickname because like the fighting bird, he was aggressive, stubborn, and seemingly incapable of backing down.

[00:28:52]Also, poetically, Captain Christian Huck, the man who burned down the House of Sumpter, didn't last long. A few months after this, Sumpter's men would catch up to him personally at the Battle of Huck's defeat, killing him and decimating his force, demonstrating that in South Carolina's back country, sending a message usually resulted in a very violent reply. If Marion was the shadow in the swamp, Sumpter was the guy kicking in the front door. And then there was Andrew Pickkins with perhaps the most interesting name, the Wizard Owl, who would round out this trio. And yes, his name sounds like he should be grading your potions homework alongside Snape. Pickins in life was a devout Presbyterian elder known for his silence who initially took a parole after the fall of Charleston, promising to stay out of the war to protect his plantation. However, after loyalists raided and plundered his property and terrified his family despite him opting to remain peaceful, he decided the British had forfeited their claim to his neutrality. Therefore, Pickkins didn't just return to the fight. He actually brought discipline and tactical patience with him that earned him the nickname the wizard owl. With his specific genius supposedly lying in his ability to organize the often unpredictable colonial militia into a reliable fighting force, something that reached its peak at the Battle of Cowpens, where Pickkins orchestrated a brilliant tactical maneuver that decimated the British forces and fundamentally shifted the momentum of the war in the south.

[00:30:22]Again, by the 1780s, the British thought they had the South more or less under control. Big cities were captured, major armies were scattered, and confidence levels for the British were high. That said, these three men would show up and collectively decide that control was more of a suggestion. Each operated in different regions, hitting British forces from different angles, attacking supply lines, intercepting communications, and generally making it difficult for the British to feel comfortable anywhere. It was less a war and more a prolonged irritation campaign that ultimately prevented the British from maintaining a grasp on South Carolina. Between 1780 and 1782, these leaders kept the patriot cause alive in the South when it very easily could have collapsed otherwise. And their guerilla tactics forced the British to stretch their resources thin, helping create conditions for larger American victories. Most notably, the decisive end at Yorktown. In other words, while bigger armies were doing the headline grabbing work, Marian Sumpter and Pickins were making sure there was still a story to tell. And finally, there's one more important point. Y'all modern South Carolina fans probably noticed a very specific word. The Gamecock was part of this story. Thomas Sumpter's nickname, the Gamecock, stuck around because it's objectively hard to forget a man who fought like an angry barnyard animal with a vendetta. And over time, that image of stubbornness, toughness, and refusal to quit became something people in South Carolina were oddly proud of. Which brings us to modern day when the University of South Carolina adopted the Gamecocks as their mascot, directly inspired by Sumpter's nickname.

[00:32:00]Because when choosing a symbol for competitive spirit, they of course were inspired by the aggressively uncooperative rooster who refused to lose. Thus, even though I myself am a Tennessee fan, I'll be keeping one eye open on the weekend of October 24th this year, as Cocktober is a very dangerous time of year for Blu-Tick hounds like us historically, and Lenoris Sellers may very well be the best quarterback in the SEC. Good luck out there this season, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

[00:32:35]I know that today Charleston is famous perhaps for nothing more than being a quintessential southern city, but what if I told you that historically speaking, it's better described as a little slice of the Caribbean that drifted up north and put on a pastel blazer. See, Charleston's breezy architecture, tropical colors, and unique layout aren't a coincidence.

[00:32:55]They're the product of the fact that Charleston is the byproduct of Barbadian DNA. This story kicks off in 1670. While other colonies were trying to recreate London or Amsterdam, instead Charleston was being built by second sun planters from Barbados. See, by the mid-7th century, Barbados was England's jewel of the Antilles, basically its own personal sugar machine. And when they ran out of land, the elites exported their entire operating system to the Carolas. And they didn't just bring seed, they brought a plantation hierarchy.

[00:33:30]Caribbean architecture and of course a bit of a unique worldview. Among this unique architecture though is something that at first glance doesn't stand out a ton. Something called the Charleston single house which is subtly probably the most defining architectural feature of the city's historic district. This sort of home turns the narrow end of the house towards the street to maximize the number of lots available per block and to give homeowners a private shaded sanctuary. And the piesta resistance of this type of home lies in its piaza. The multi-story side porch that's basically a giant intake valve for the doctor breeze coming off the harbor which allows air to circulate through every room in the home. Something that was essential prior to electricity that was given a direct export from the Barbadians who were skilled in the whole tropical urbanism thing given their native climate. To put it simply, it's basically a Caribbean townhouse adapted for a mainland grid. Further, the city's color palette, dominated by soft pinks, seafoam greens, and pale yellows, as you might already be able to tell, seems to belong more so on a rum label than on a mainland US city. This is mostly practical, though, because these light colors do a great job of reflecting the sun's malice. Well, at least relative to darker ones. And there's of course also hint blue, a pale turquoise found on porch ceilings mostly. Now haint blue's history could be a video in its own right, but hint blue, to put it simply, is derived from the goligichi, descendants of West African slaves, and it was intended to ward off spirits or hints that couldn't cross water. And also, it had the added bonus of tricking wasps into thinking the ceiling was the sky. At least that's what folklore says.

[00:35:17]In practice, that doesn't work so well.

[00:35:19]Heck, even the early economy of Charleston was a Caribbean transplant.

[00:35:24]As in the 1700s, Charleston was one of the wealthiest cities in British North America, per capita. But it was wealthy due to the crops the Brits knew nothing about, rice and indigo, which were principally grown by enslaved West Africans. This black rice economy, as it was called, mirrored the Caribbean model, too, with a tiny ultra-wealthy elite overseeing a massive enslaved majority. And finally, there's the city's urban layout, comprised of narrow lanes and densewalled courtyards and alleys. Features that are all meant to cast maximum shade and features that make this city in many ways sort of a mere image of Bridgetown Barbados. Thus, maybe this is a bit boring, but I've always found it quite interesting that Charleston is essentially a Barbadian city thrust into the comparably cooler coast of the Carolas.

[00:36:18]Breer Rabbit is a story about a small, weak animal who keeps biging bigger, stronger animals. Not through force, mind you, but through sheer cunning and an almost offensive level of self-confidence. You've probably heard it maybe through Joel Chandler Harris's Uncle Remis collections, which were everywhere in the late 19th and early 20th century. Maybe through Disney's Song of the South. though, if you've seen that one, Disney would very much prefer you forget about it, given they've pretty much buried it from public release for decades. But there's one thing that most tellings of the story leave out entirely. Breer Rabbit is not a white southern story. He's not really even an American story. He's an African story carried across the Atlantic by enslaved people to South Carolina and kept alive in the Gulla communities of the South Carolina low country for generations. And then when he finally got famous, he was credited to almost everyone except for the people who actually preserved him. And that tension between where the story came from and who got to profit from it is pretty much the whole thing. But first, let's start off at the proper point with the tale of Breer Rabbit as it's best known in America and Joel Chandler Harris's Uncle Remis Collection. So in the story, there's this rabbit. He's not big. He's not strong. He doesn't have claws worth mentioning or a roar that scares anybody. Rather, what he has is a mouth, a brain, and absolutely no shame about using them. The most famous of his stories goes something like this. Breer Fox, who's been trying to catch Brer Rabbit for basically forever with nothing to show for it, finally gets his moment. He builds a trap out of tar and tarpentine, shapes it into something that looks vaguely like a person, and leaves it on the side of the road. Breer Rabbit comes along, sees this strange figure, and says hello, and gets no response. And because Breer Rabbit has never once in his life let a perceived sight go unanswered, he hits it. His fist sticks. Then he hits it again with his other fist, and that one sticks, too. And then he kicks it, and both feet get stuck. Then he headbutts it, and now he is fully embedded in a tar trap of his own making, which is frankly on him, if you ask me. Then Brer Fox sauna over delighted and starts listing the ways he plans to kill and eat Breer Rabbit, principally by boiling him. Now Breer Rabbit doesn't react. But then Breer Fox floats the idea of just throwing him into a brier patch, the thorny tangled thicket nearby. And Breer Rabbit loses it. He begs. He pleads. He tells Breer Fox that anything, anything would be better than the Brier Patch. So Breer Fox, who has waited for a long time for this moment of dominance and intends to enjoy it fully, hurls Breer Rabbit straight into the briers and Breer Rabbit from deep inside of the thicket calls back born and bred in the brier patch. Brer Fox, born and bred. As you know, if you've ever seen a rabbit in your life, rabbits love briers. And in this case, Breer Rabbit grew up there.

[00:39:25]He knows every inch of the brier patch.

[00:39:27]Thus, it's not a punishment. It's his home and he played Breer Fox like a fiddle, using the fox's own cruelty as the instrument of his escape. It's one of the most elegant con jobs in the history of American folklore and it was invented by people who needed it to be because, as stated, Breer Rabbit isn't really a southern story. He's an African story wearing a southern accent. The roots of Brer Rabbit, rather than being American, as I stated, trace back to Western and Central African oral traditions, where the hair was already a wellestablished folk hero long before anyone had heard of the Carolinas. He was characterized as a small, clever creature who survived not through strength, but through wit, misdirection, and an ability to talk his way out of anything. And when enslaved Africans were brought to the American South, many of them through the Barbados pipeline, they brought these stories with them.

[00:40:19]And in the isolated, tight-knit communities of the South Carolina and Georgia Low Country, those tales found a new home inside of Golagichi culture, where they were retold, reshaped, and passed down through the generations, picking up some local color along the way. The brier patch became a Carolina thicket. The hair became a rabbit.

[00:40:39]However, the soul of the story, the small guy outsmarting the powerful guy, stayed exactly the same. And here's why this matters more than it might seem.

[00:40:48]These weren't just entertaining campfire stories for them. For enslaved people living under a brutal system of control, the trickster tale served a real psychological and social function. Breer rabbit winning against Brare Fox, a bigger, stronger, and more powerful creature, wasn't just fun. It was kind of a coded message about survival and about using your wits when the system was rigged against you and finding power in places your oppressor wouldn't think to look. The stories were a playbook in a way. And of course, things got complicated upon the entrance of Joel Chandler Harris, a white Georgia journalist who in 1881 published Uncle Reis, his songs and his sayings, a collection of breer rabbit tales framed as being told by a warm folksy elderly enslaved man called Uncle Remis. Now, to be fair, the stories themselves were quite faithful to their gulla origins, as Harris had clearly listened carefully and preserved a lot of the structure and spirit of the original tales. But the framing was, to put it diplomatically, a mess. Uncle Reis was presented as a kind of contented, nostalgic figure, pining for the antibbellum south, which was not exactly a neutral editorial choice.

[00:41:59]Regardless, Harris became enormously famous, and Breer Rabbit became a household name across America, despite the gull communities who had actually kept these stories alive for two centuries getting essentially no credit.

[00:42:11]Further, the Disney adaptation of 1946 Song of the South took Harris's already problematic framing and turbocharged it into something so tonedeaf that the studio has kept it locked in a vault ever since. And I honestly can't tell if this is admirably self-aware or the world's most convenient act of corporate revisionism. Either way, the good news is that modern scholars, folklorists, and Golic community members have done significant work to restore the actual history of this story, tracing the trickster hair back through the African diaspora.

[00:42:48]If you were building a Mount Rushmore of southern folklore figures, Stephanie Robinson, better known as Dr. Buzzard, would be chiseled front and center.

[00:42:57]Operating out of St. Helena Island in the early 20th century. Robinson wasn't a doctor in the white coat clipboard student debt sense. He was something more traditional and to some more unsettling. By the time he passed away in 1947, he had built a reputation that stretched well beyond the low country, attracting clients who were willing to travel long distances for a man whose so-called medical credentials were, let's call them, spiritually endorsed.

[00:43:26]This Dr. Buzzard's specialty was something that sounds like it should come with a warning from the surgeon general, chewing the root. And no, this wasn't just some nasty habit like modern chew. It was a ritualistic practice often used in court cases where Dr. Buzzard would allegedly fix outcomes, softening judges, confusing juries, and otherwise nudging justices in a more client-friendly direction.

[00:43:51]Unsurprisingly, this didn't sit well with law enforcement, particularly a man named J. E. McTeir, the long-erving sheriff of Bowfort County. McTier tried to shut down Robinson for practicing medicine without a license, which is funny to me because I don't in any way understand how you can consider the ongoings in a courtroom medicine.

[00:44:13]Regardless, every attempt at prosecuting him for this, of course, would unravel spectacularly, most famously when a key witness reportedly went into convulsions at the stand. So, to fully understand Dr. Buzzard, you have to understand the role of the root doctor, a figure from the broader tradition of hudoo. Root doctors, also called conjurers at the time, worked at the intersection of herbal medicine, spirituality, and community problem solving, drawing on West African traditions. Hudoo wasn't just some cartoonish Hollywood voodoo doll cliche. It was practical magic involving roots, herbs, charms, and rituals used to heal illnesses, protect against harm, settle disputes, or of course, occasionally tip the scales of fate just enough to get what you needed.

[00:45:00]In places like coastal South Carolina and Georgia, particularly within the Goligichi communities, root doctors filled gaps left by inaccessible or untrustworthy institutions. To put it simply, when the legal system, medical system, and broader society weren't exactly designed with you in mind, you went to someone who was. And Dr. Buzzard, like the Dr. Buzzard, wasn't just someone. You might just say he was the someone. According to legend, learning his powers from his father, who was said to be a witch doctor, brought directly from West Africa, despite laws that supposedly made that impossible.

[00:45:35]Whether or not that's historically factual is beside the point. To the Goligichi communities, this was truth.

[00:45:41]And it meant that Robinson was a sort of man amongst boys in the hoodoo world with ancient abilities inherited by blood from his father. And most famously today, you'll often read of Dr. Buzzard's long-running feud with Sheriff McTar, which reads like a southern gothic buddy comedy. After repeated failures to convict Robinson, McTar apparently decided if he can't beat him, join him. And he pivoted instead to becoming a root doctor himself, spreading rumors that he too was a powerful conjurer. Now, it's unclear whether this was law enforcement or performance art, but it worked well enough to deescalate tensions in the short term. Then, while I'll admit the way this is often recorded is confusing, an event would happen that I think history somewhat attributes to Sheriff McTar's newfound powers. See, Dr. Buzzard's son would die in a car accident after driving into a causeway.

[00:46:34]And this seemingly scared Dr. Buzzard, prompting him to agree to step back from his medicine, as it was called, though not from spells. When Dr. Robinson ultimately died in 1947, his magic didn't die with him, though. his son-in-law would take over the family business, becoming known as Buzzy, and other practitioners actually began adopting the name Dr. Buzzard, like it was a franchise opportunity. And in a way, it was. This name became shorthand for root doctor powers in the region.

[00:47:04]So, in a way, this is a weird personal account mixed with traditional folkloric powers of chewing the root that were found in the Goligichi folklore. Half history and half legend.

[00:47:26]Folks, I hope you enjoyed this quick visit back to South Carolina. I know this one was a bit more historical than our last trek through the state, but sometimes I enjoy that oldtimey lore.

[00:47:36]Anyhow, if you enjoyed this, it would help me out a ton if you liked this video, subscribed, and commented your favorite urban legend down below. It's a free way to tell YouTube, hey, this guy's all right. As for what's next, I think I'm going to continue with these incredible videos because as I write this, the Dan Akroyd video is one of my best short-term performances ever.

[00:47:57]Further, we're going to continue this USA trek with the front runners for the next video being Utah, Michigan, and Arizona. And we're also going to work on a California Bigfoot video soon. Also, a New Mexico's haunted places video is also on the way. So, stay tuned for all of those. Oh, and very soon we're starting a radio show type live stream where you can call in if you want and tell your own strange stories. So, if you've got a small town mystery or conspiracy to share, you should call the phone number in the description and leave a voicemail telling me your strange story. Seriously, just give me a call. Though, be warned, it might play on a live stream. So, if you're okay with that, let me know. And, you know, leave whatever details you want. But if you don't want it aired, please don't leave a voicemail. With that, I hope you're doing quite well out there. And whether someone just called your favorite football team, the Swamp Foxes, and you got mighty upset, or if your dad keeps insisting that you stick some big league chew in your mouth to sway the outcome of his upcoming court case.

[00:48:56]Don't you ever forget, it's always story time.