Charleston Exceeds Expectorations
As an esteemed member of the Rebecca Motte Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, I count myself among those ladies whose male ancestors fought in the America’s War for Independence (or, as some of my British friends term it, the American Rebellion.) It is supposed to be a blue blood group…….I have always wondered why they stooped to admit me.
Anyway.
My chapter meets at a Building of Charleston Importance That Will Be Covered in a Future Episode of This Blog. They flock together at odd times. Like Mondays at 10:30am. Meaning the last time I went to a meeting, a four-hundred-year-old woman asked me if I was there to deliver my award-winning high school history essay to the group.
After getting into a cat fight legal battle with the City of Charleston over who actually owned the contents of the room in which they met, the austere Southern ladies outdid themselves so spectacularly that I almost decided to rearrange my schedule to watch the carnage attend the meetings.
One DAR doyenne challenged the other to a duel. To be historically accurate in the terms of the revolutionary period, a code duello. In historic times, a duel was a matter of honor, a structured bout between gentlemen, with second men and negotiations and secrecy and sometimes even death by gunshot wound.
This Charleston duel was one without pistols. Instead, one genteel Southern lady allegedly spat upon the other.
It was a case that had the judge scared to put himself between Spitter and Spittee. One that had an attorney defining with pedantic detail the modes and methods by which people can accidentally, without meaning to cause offense, spew saliva on unwitting victims.
The state regent at the time said, “Most of our ladies are very, very polite. It’s just a very, very unfortunate experience.”
A very, very Southern take on one of Charleston’s most Recent Unpleasantnesses.
This post is part of a series on Charleston, South Carolina, the place I consider my hometown. A local’s-eye-view. Take notes, potential visitors. The first post in the series is here.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
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- Charleston Is the Land of No | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- What To Do With Dead Bodies | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- How to Kill a Body Dead | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Waiting To Be Laid Low | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- I Got a Boner | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- I’m Late For a Very Important Date | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- O Death, Where Is Thy Sting? | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- The Valley of Dry Bones | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
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- Magnolia Cemetery Is THE Place to be Dead | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
That is wonderful! When was this? The oddest tales in Charleston are my favorite, and usually the most true. And half the time I know the people involved. Was it a Pringle? Or a Ravanel? Or a Riley? Or a Seabrook? Or a ….
If you follow the link to the Post & Courier article, you can read all about it.
I useDuseD to work in that building that you speak of. Yes there are a number 400 yr.old ladies who are members ofof that chapter of the DAR. I always felt that the building was not authentic given the pool restoration from the 1970s. Now the dark areas of the building are surely what you intend to write about, and save the fake people are rather real.
The building post is coming tomorrow, though like you, I have very mixed feelings about it.
Whoa! Classy. Hard to believe a southern woman would stoop so low as to projectile spittal…I mean heck, I cannot spit for the life of me. It’s an art…spittal that is. My sister and I laugh and laugh when we’re biking and you get all that phlegm and try and extract it. We have to stop pedaling, get off the bike and lean over…must practice my spitting skills before I attempt a visit to Charleston. Ha.
It was quite a story back when it happened. Spitting skills are not required in general here, though, unless you want to spit watermelon seeds.
I could, my relatives do not let me forget, join the DAR. Why I would do so is beyond me. I would be spat back to infinity. Those ladies are a hot mess.
Some of the programs are really interesting. It’s the politics that get to me. That’s the case in any group, though.
You can’t beat a good spitting spat Andra!
No, you can’t. I wish I’d been there, Jim.
Bigger than Ali v Frazier Andra
I love it, a spitting duel. How fun.
It does produce quite a visual…..
And the title for this little series shall be: Things About Charleston the Average Tourist Will Never Know! Ye gods, and little fishes!
This is one of those stories that should be told over and over.
I spit on you! That’s what you get!! (I realize no one else will get that reference, but that’s part of the fun
I almost linked to that post…..
Love it. Prim and Proper can do with a little spittle lubrication:)
Indeed, Roger.
Good gracious…spitting! A story for the Charleston billboards!
I have never heard of the Daughters of the Revolution before. Intriguing. Are they like the Women’s Institute (who terrified then Prime Minister Tony Blair by slow clapping him)?
Not exactly, Kate. The DAR admits women with an ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War. The line must be traced through women to the person who fought. The DAR works to preserve historical sites and educate people about that part of our heritage.
Wow. That’s a tough club to get into. So you have a relative who fought…
At least one. My father’s mother was an Anderson, and it is through her line.
Wow, that’s some serious drama for the DAR!
I am periodically tempted to join just for the amusement value of the whole Chinese thing.
You should. I would love to know what happened.
I could see in my mind’s eye an old illustration of this duel taking place, Andra, with all the judges, spectators and all milling around the duelers. Quite comical actually!
It still makes me chuckle, Tom.
Spit . . . Spat . . . Sputter . . . Titter . . . Tattle . . . Tat.
They might be 400+ years old, but they’ve got some life in them yet.
This is so funny to me! And a bit ironic. I have the proper “linkages” and connections to join the DAR and have never wanted to…now my daughter is showing interest, asking me how to do it, and we’re thinking about the possibility. And my “connections” do all stem from my southern family roots! We may have more in common once again, Andra! Now that I know the ladies don’t behave in the way I previously imagined, I’m a bit more interested!
Let me know if she (and you) pursue it, Debra.
That’s an interesting and colorful story. I find such groups to be curious. I love history but have no desire to be so attached to something a possible relative was affected by or participated in ages ago – unless they did exceptional community service.
My attachment is in dues only, I suppose. I never go to the meetings or do anything with the group. Sometimes, I donate to their scholarship program.
And here I thought you were in Rotary…
I am. That’s where I spend all my time.
ME…OW !
Purrrrrrr.