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| George 'Buster' Singleton |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Dark waters of the Alabama River
hold many mysteries,” was originally published in the Feb. 16, 1995 edition of
The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
As I sat on the bank of the river at Davis Ferry Thursday
and watched the activity by those who were retrieving the automobile from the
deep, dark waters, many thoughts came to mind.
Watching the divers as they slowly descended into the dark,
cold waters, down to where the auto was located, caused me to remember the
times when I did some diving in the mighty Alabama River.
There was a time not many years ago when I took great pride
in my diving accomplishments and would slip off from time to time to the banks
of the mighty river and search various places for the unusual and ancient
artifacts that I thought might yet rest on the bottom of the large stream.
When talking to some of my newly acquired friends in the
area after I came here – friends like Raymond Fountain and Tom Snyder and
several more – I remembered with great care these locations where I thought
something of the unusual yet lay undisturbed.
My first venture, along with a friend from Mobile, was to
search the waters just below the old river bridge for the remains of a
steamboat that was supposed to have sunk there. The wreckage was located
without too much trouble, and in the dark waters of the river, very little
could be seen except some of the rusted machinery that powered the river boat
up and down the river.
I was told that the Henderson had carried on board many
small barrels of find whiskey on this trip. But high waters and river dredges
probably took their toll of the wooden casks of the aged whiskey. Unable to
salvage any of the heavy metal of the boat’s machinery, we abandoned the
location. However, a few old glass bottles were retrieved from the wreckage
area.
Our next project was farther down stream where a high bluff
on the east bank stood above the swift waters of the river. Here, we were told
that three Confederate cannons had been pushed off the high bluff during the
closing days of the Civil War into the deep waters of the river.
The story went on to say that the cannons had been pushed
into the river to keep the advancing Union forces from capturing them. So my
friend and I gathered our diving gear and made our way to the deep, dark waters
at the base of the high bluff.
Due to very limited vision there in the dark waters of the
river, a lengthy time was spent searching the deep mud of the river bottom for
the cannons. Just about the time we were about to abandon our search, I felt
the cold steel of one of the cannon barrels. Feeling our way along the cannons
deep in the river mud, we would discover that they were quite large pieces of
heavy field artillery.
Our search was interrupted every minute or so by a rather
large yellow catfish roughly seven feet in length. It got to be very
nerve-racking to feel the huge catfish slowly come from behind and swim by
within inches of my friend and me.
Because of the size of these cannons, we came to the
conclusion that a large barge equipped with some type of derrick would be the
only way these old cannons could be salvaged from the deep mud below. Neither
of us had the finances to cover this type of recovery or handle all the red
tape that would have to be gone through to get permission to remove these
cannons from the river bed. This excursion, too, was abandoned.
Then came the exciting story that a mystery island had been
located many years ago near the area of Yellow Bluff, located in lower Wilcox
County. The story went on to say that only when the waters of the river were
very low could the tiny island be seen.
Around the middle of October 1982, we loaded our equipment
in a small outboard boat and sailed down the river from the boat landing under
the highway bridge near Camden.
Our supplies consisted of two cans of gasoline for the
outboard motor and our diving equipment. My friend assured me that this fuel
would be enough to carry us roughly 60 miles in the small boat. Since, we only
had only 10 miles to cover roundtrip, we knew that we would not run out of
fuel.
The depth finder on the small boat told us that the waters
along down river were roughly 50 feet deep. Suddenly, within a few yards of our
destination, the depth of the river dropped to near 100 feet.
Tying our craft to a large rock on the small island, we
quickly looked over the surface, which was around 30 feet in diameter. Sitting
right in the center of the island was a carved stone head; the sightless eyes
of the stone head were facing up river. Due to the hundreds of times that the
small island had been covered by flood waters, we could not understand how the
head had remained there on the small island without being swept down river by
the swift currents.
Putting on our diving gear, we slowly edged our way down the
sheer walls of the small island. Due to the low waters and the slow current,
our visibility was better than usual. Examining the soap-rock walls, we
detected what we thought to be several bones protruding from the rock
formations.
Roughly 35 feet below the surface of the river was a set of
roughly carved steps there in the rock. Due to our diving limitations, we were
not able to follow the steps to their lowest level.
After we surfaced, we made our way by boat to the other side
of the river. We had been told that along the east bank we would find some
unusual findings. There, about 30 feet below the surface, was a rough stone
walkway, about 50 yards in length. Some of it had been broken away, as if a
river dredge had perhaps cut into it. What had we found here? Had we seen a bit
of the ruins of some ancient civilization?
The lengthening shadows from the west bank reminded us that
it was time to leave this place of mystery in these dark waters of the deep
river. Gathering up the ancient stone head and several other artifacts, we
loaded our equipment and started up river.
About two miles up river, our outboard ceases to run.
Checking the gas tank, we were alarmed to find that it was bone dry. Reaching
over to connect to the other tank, we couldn’t believe that it, too, was dry.
With the aide of a broken plank and a small shovel, we slowly made our way up
to where we had left our vehicle and boat trailer. As we winched the small boat
onto the trailer, the back of the boat fell off; it and the outboard fell to
the ground.
Had we angered the gods of this mysterious place as we searched
around the small island? Perhaps, I should have left the ancient stone head
there where I had found it. But I was to learn that the mysteries of the
ancient stone head didn’t stop there. But then, that’s another story.
As for now, the ancient mysteries beneath the dark waters of
the great river wait on their way to forever.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and
Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County. He is
buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of
Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm
records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns
are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part
of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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