The Joel Allen House
While not quite a “dying” rail line, the Joel Allen house represents much of the fading past that was Dillon County, South Carolina. As this once-beautiful part of the state nose dives into the conditions of a third world country, no thanks to years of incompetent and corrupt political leadership, the landmarks of this area are fading away at an alarming rate.
The Joel Allen house was a familiar antebellum landmark well remembered from my boyhood. This house was plainly visible from three directions from nearly a half mile away over cotton and soybean fields, surrounded by a massive white oak, magnolias, and shrubbery. I hunted the woods nearby, and often passed it on the way to my grandparents, and the house always had a sense of warmth and welcome about it, especially after a bitterly cold afternoon hunting. South Carolina winters are often more wet than cold, making the cold seem even worse. It seemed to be an example of an idyllic domestic existence, lit windows seeming to be a welcoming beacon against the ever deepening darkness surrounding me as I left the woods after a hunt.
The house, then…
While not quite a “dying” rail line, the Joel Allen house represents much of the fading past that was Dillon County, South Carolina. As this once-beautiful part of the state nose dives into the conditions of a third world country, no thanks to years of incompetent and corrupt political leadership, the landmarks of this area are fading away at an alarming rate.
The Joel Allen house was a familiar antebellum landmark well remembered from my boyhood. This house was plainly visible from three directions from nearly a half mile away over cotton and soybean fields, surrounded by a massive white oak, magnolias, and shrubbery. I hunted the woods nearby, and often passed it on the way to my grandparents, and the house always had a sense of warmth and welcome about it, especially after a bitterly cold afternoon hunting. South Carolina winters are often more wet than cold, making the cold seem even worse. It seemed to be an example of an idyllic domestic existence, lit windows seeming to be a welcoming beacon against the ever deepening darkness surrounding me as I left the woods after a hunt.
The house, then…
…and now. What used to be the front steps.
Not far from the old ACL line that ran from Latta to Bingham, the Joel Allen house stood for over 100 years. Joel Allen, a Baptist pastor who ministered at Catfish Creek Baptist Church across the street from Dalcho School, lived there with his family.
During the War Between the States, the Pastor rode with the citizen’s militia to confront Union “bummers” and Confederate deserters in the area. Pastor Allen shot and killed several after some of the local law enforcement with him were shot.
A mass of bricks from one of the fallen chimneys of the old house. Once a provider of warmth
And light, the fireplace now lies cold and dark in a mass of confusion.
The duty of a pastor is not one to be taken lightly, and a minister’s home is often a tool of the job. The nature of being a spiritual leader often required the sanctuary and warmth of a home, as opposed to the “formality” of a church building. In many churches of the 19th Century, as well as today, the home served as an office, library, study, counseling center, and a place for visiting ministry and emergency shelter for a family in need.
Today, all that remains is ruins. Nothing but the bones of what was once a home.
Massive white oak in what was the front yard…the fallen tree to the
Left is five feet high from the ground. if only the memories of children
Playing under its shaded branches could be seen to appreciate it.
A surviving packhouse that was behind the house.
A blazing red dogwood in what was the front of the house.
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3 comments:
.my name is Marianne Allen. These are my people.
This is the house my grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Allen, grew up in. I would love to know more of what you know about the family. The last time I saw the house was in the 1970s, when I was a teenager. B.F. Allen was also a pastor in South Carolina, and was affiliated with Catfish Creek Baptist Church.
And anyone else who stops by here, and is part of the Allen family, I would love to hear more about how we are related!
Joel Allen is my great grandfather. His daughter Belle is my father's mother, my paternal grandmother. I last saw the house standing in 1985 with my father, uncle and grandmother. My daughter was a newborn. Was so sad to return in later years to find it gone.
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