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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 “Bridge work recalls night spent
on river bluff,” was originally published in the Jan. 26, 1984 edition of The
Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
No one in his right mind would not agree that the new bridge
being constructed across the mighty Alabama River at Claiborne is in the best
interests of all. But as I look at the changes taking place, I feel a certain
amount of regret and sadness when I recall certain memories that dwell within
the favorite times that are so dear to me.
I had on several occasions visited the sharp, rocky point
that protruded up, just to the north of the old bridge, overlooking the river
and all points to the west. The road that led down to the boat landing gave
this point the appearance of being an island.
I decided one autumn evening that I would go down and spend
the night atop this high point overlooking the river. I hastily packed my
sleeping bag and a few canned goods, so that I would have something to eat
during the night and the following morning for breakfast. I got astride my
trail bike and headed west toward Claiborne.
Ground was too steep
I reached my destination about an hour before sunset. As I
looked around for a place to put my sleeping bag, I realized that the ground
was too steep. I knew that I could easily fall off a cliff of 100 feet or so. I
could imagine falling down this steep incline while trying to free myself from
my sleeping bag during the dark hours of the night.
Determined to go through with my plans to spend the night, I
built a kind of harness out of nylon rope that allowed me to tie myself and my
sleeping bag to a stout pine tree that grew on the steep slope. I knew this
would keep me secure, and I wouldn’t have to worry about being awakened by a
sudden stop at the bottom of the ravine at the river’s edge.
As I nestled in for the night, I felt myself go back in time
as the sighing winds played a soft melody in the treetops and the rolling
currents of the mighty river echoed the sounds up and down the steep cliffs.
The heavy blanket of stars that covered the heavens gave me
the feeling that I was the only person alive. The deep sleep that came over me
gave way from time to time to the sounds of the night or of a falling star
streaking across the heavens on its final journey into oblivion. Each happening
or event seemed as though the grand display were especially for me.
How many had been there?
As I lay there and watched the night sky, I wondered how
many over the past thousand or so years had sat there and watched the heavens
and listened to the sounds of the mighty river.
As the early dawn pushed the lazy mist from the high bluff
and my home for the night, I was angry with myself that the night was over, and
that I had waited this long before coming here for this spectacle of the
Creation.
I was glad that I had come and been part of the final days
of the cliff overlooking the mighty river. I knew that soon this beautiful,
primitive place would disappear forever. But I knew, too, that time waits for
no man, and nothing is 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 and
served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to
1987. 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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