George Buster Singleton |
I have seen many strange and unusual happenings in my lifetime. Today, I once again viewed with my own eyes one of life’s strange phenomena.
Today is Sunday, May 19. My wife and I and two good friends of ours have just returned from Carrollton, the county seat in Pickens County. The courthouse building there that stands today was built in 1877, shortly after the end of the dreaded war that caused brother to fight against brother and father against son, in my instance.
The courthouse that serves Pickens County until 1876 mysteriously burned on Nov. 16 that same year. No one knew who might have had reason to commit this act of arson.
The construction of a new courthouse got under way at once. But the hunt for the one who had caused the destruction of the old courthouse continued. Someone had to be guilty of this tragic crime. The arsonist would be found and punished.
In January 1878, a freedman, or freed slave, by the name of Henry Wells was arrested and held in confinement in the garret of the new courthouse to await trial for the act of arson on the old courthouse. County officials turned a deaf ear to the plea of Henry Wells that he did not commit the crime. He pleaded his innocence and begged to be set free. Time and time again, the accused man begged for his freedom but to no avail.
Determined that justice would be done, the officials of Pickens County sentenced Henry Wells to death by hanging. The condemned man continued to claim his innocence. The date for the hanging spread around the county like wildfire.
Outside the small county courthouse a crowd gathered to see the accused man pay for his crime. The sheriff and a deputy went up the narrow stairway to the garret to bring down the man who was to die within a few minutes on the gallows nearby. Once again, Henry Wells begged his innocence. Again, his begging fell on deaf ears.
The time had come. Henry Wells made one last request. He asked that he be allowed to pray before he was taken to the gallows. The sheriff, probably feeling a bit sorry for the doomed man, granted his last wish. Henry Wells turned toward the window of the garret and fell to his knees. As he arose from his kneeling position on the floor, he raised his arms toward the ceiling of the small room and shouted, “To prove that I am innocent, the reflection of my face will forever be seen in the glass of this window.” Within a few short minutes Henry Wells died at the end of a hangman’s noose before a large crowd of local onlookers.
The hanging over, the sheriff decided to return to the garret window. He did not believe he would find the reflection of the doomed man’s face. Anyone who is about to die might say such silly and foolish things, especially a man who claimed he was innocent.
As the sheriff made his way across the floor of the garret, he saw to his amazement and surprise the face of Henry Wells looking out the window toward the courtyard below. A loud scream was heard from the upstairs of the courthouse. Everyone rushed up the narrow stairway to see what was happening there. There stood the county sheriff, deathly white in color, pointing to the reflection of the face of Henry Wells in the glass window.
No one knew how the face of this doomed man came to be seen in the garret window. Much speculation and talk centered around the phenomenon that starred down from its place in the upstairs window. County officials decided that a new window would correct their problem, and a new window was installed. Within minutes after the installation of the new glass window, the face could be seen as before.
Several times during the next few years, the window glass was replaced. Each time as before, within minutes after the glass was exchanged, the face of Henry Wells could be seen.
When replacing the window glass didn’t work, someone decided to cover the window with wooden boards. Surely this would end the appearance of the face in the window. But by the time the boards were in place, the face could be seen as though painted on the boards that covered the window.
As time passed, glass was again placed in the garret window. Each time, the reflection of the face of Henry Wells reappeared as before. The news of the face in the window spread throughout the country and world. “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” writers came and saw for themselves that what they had heard was true.
Even today, as one stands in the courtyard, visitors from all over the county come and stand to look at the image in the window.
As I stood there 113 years later and looked at this phenomenon in the glass window high above the street, I was convinced that there is another dimension or something that parallels this life. Perhaps someday we will know. But for now, the answer lies on the winds of time and tomorrow. Maybe, one day.
(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.)
No comments:
Post a Comment