George Singleton tells of the days of old-time watermelon patch raids

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 “Raiding watermelon patches has become lost art,” was originally published in the July 29, 1993 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

When I speak of the youth of today not having fun and not being able to entertain themselves, I mean no disrespect whatsoever.

I will be the first to admit that times have changed during the past years since the Great Depression. Today our youth have money to spend and nice automobiles to travel around in. Many have part-time jobs in nice, clean air-conditioned places and the living is good. But, it hasn’t always been like this.

In writing these articles about my youth, and some of the things that we were involved in, I have no intentions in suggesting to our youth of today that they should also do such things as we did on occasions when boredom crept across the farm country.

In the area where I grew up, it was expected of the local youth to raid watermelon patches and swipe ripe peaches and apples from the orchards of the local farmers. On these fun raids, no property was destroyed or abused.

You swiped only that which the raiding party could eat. Most times, younger members of the very family who owned the orchard or melon patches were right in the middle of the fun group. The older members of these families took great pride in setting traps for the youthful fun seekers.

These traps were not intended to hurt or injure anyone but to scare the living daylights out of those involved. These fun stories of scares would be told and retold many times around the fireplaces during the cold winter nights when the families gathered for fun and entertainment and community fellowship.

Always, when a visitor would come into the community for a stay with relatives or just to visit, this was the opportune time for the local youth, with the help of the older members of the community, to pull some kind of prank or joke on the city slicker.

A family in the local community had relatives that lived in New Orleans. From these relatives in New Orleans, a young man about the age of 16 came up for a few days visit. He was well-dressed and seemed to think that he was above the local youth of the community, because he was from the city and he didn’t have to labor on the farm as his cousins did.

In short notice, these cousins notified their neighbors of a plan to get this smart aleck in line with reality.

The young visitor, not knowing anything about the area, was invited on a watermelon-patch raid; readily he accepted. Little did he know that the family he was visiting owned the melon patch that was to be raided. This was one tale that would be remembered for many years around the firesides of the local folks.

Top-secret plan

The top-secret plan was molded to perfection. An older man from the community was instructed by the melon patch owner to enter the patch on a given night and sit down and cover himself with a dark poncho. He was also instructed to carry his shotgun with him. The plans were, as the youth group entered the patch, he would jump and scream and shoot his shotgun twice up in the air.

Across the watermelon patch, several of the older menfolk of the community lay in hiding to witness the fun and excitement. All the members of the raiding party knew what was going to take place except the young visitor from New Orleans.

The night was cloudy and overcast. The moonlight was breaking through the clouds from time to time, giving off just enough light that one could find their way along the rows of ripe watermelons there in the field. As the group slowly entered the melon patch from the nearby wooded area, the leaders began to bend over the melons and thump them, seeking out a few good ripe melons to eat.

When all the group was well within the melon patch, without warning, the farmer under the poncho jumped up and screamed, “What the h*** are you guys doing in my watermelon patch?”

Shotgun fired

Twice he fired his shotgun in the air. Young boys scrambled in every direction. I won’t call any names, but a youth in the raiding party grabbed his side and fell to the ground and yelled: “Oh my goodness, I’m shot.”

The visiting cousin, thinking that this prankster was wounded, raced over and picked him up, throwing the supposedly wounded boy over his shoulder and raced across the large field nearby.

Totally exhausted from carrying the large youth across the large field, the visiting cousin fell to the ground. As the groups gathered, the sightseers came from their hiding places along with the members of the raiding party, and loud laughter and sounds of merriment echoed across the large field while the visiting cousin lay gasping for breath on the ground.

Slowly, the exhausted cousin got to his feet. Having realized that he had been the victim of the prank, he became fighting mad. He began to swing his fists in all directions at those who had been part of the staged raid. The older members of the group stepped  in and made the distressed young man sit down until he cooled off and regained his self-control.

In short notice, a couple of lanterns appeared out of the brush as if by magi and several cool, sweet watermelons were sliced for the party of fun seekers to enjoy.

The gathering lasted until after the hour of midnight. All knew who were present that night in the watermelon patch that this night would be remembered for years to come.

And, as the years passed, the visiting cousin from New Orleans seemed to enjoy it the most, when hearing it told over and over again.

(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 to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. 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.)