charlie

My sainted grandmother would surely admonish me if I couldn't say good about someone-I should keep my mouth shut. Perhaps that is why my cousin, Elizabeth Olmstead has had such a hard time digging up our ancestral history, it's indescretion having been purposely buried and hoped to be forgotten.

Nevertheless; the truth bears telling.

I remember my grandfather Rutledge as a kindly silver-haired old gentleman with a gold tooth. He always wore a three-piece business suit and a gold pocket watch. He would have looked far more natural with long locks of hair banded by ceremonial feathers. He called me Celeste, the name of their youngest who died as an infant and played "Old Susannah" for me on his fiddle. He wasn't around much, but when he was he was nice to me.

Family stories passed through generations told of the Rutledge line having been descended from the aristocratic Charleston, SC Rutledges, one of whom was the first govornor of SC and one who was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. An Andrew Rutledge married a daughter of John Boone (Boone Hall Plantation) in the late 1600's. The story goes that one renegade Rutledge descendant headed for the NC/TN hills and married a Cherokee Indian.

Born in McMinn County, TN, Charles Cannon Rutledsge was the son of James Franklin and Bessie Goins Rutledge. Charlie Rutledge prided himself on the reputation of being as mean as he was handsome, those still living say it was so. The blood of the Cherokee ran strong in his veins and showed in his chiseled cheekbones, poker straight hair and intense stare. He made his brags that he had sold his soul to the devil for a thousand years, but his estranged wife Harriett wouldn't hear any of it. Dismissing him as full of hot air, she never gave up hope of his redemption. She must have been a mere slip of a girl when he won her heart, for she married at an early age and set about the task of raising her family with little or no help from him. Having suffered neglect and abuse at the hands of her husband, Harriett turned to her faith as he strength. Her faith in the Almighty would not only see her through, it stands as a legacy which passes on for many generations to follow. Charlie took issue in the fact that she was able to stand strong in her faith in spite of him and he took delight in ridiculing her upon finding her on her knees. Eventually the couple divorced, which was probaby a relief to all concerned. Believing herself to be bound in marriage in the eyes of the Lord, Harriett remained faithful to her vows for the rest of her life.

As a young man, Charlie was infamous for his mischief. One story goes he and a friend had a job working on the railroad. There was a road to the job site, but the shortest route was over the top of the ridge on foot. The days of summer were long and hot, and by the time they reached the negro church where a revival was being held, they were ready to drink from the spring and rest under the trees before continuing home. They arrived each night of the work week just in time to hear the pastor's altar call. When he asked how many were ready to go when Gabriel blows his horn they would all signal by the uplifting of hands that they were ready. Saturday, the work at the railroad ceased at mid-day, and as they approached the little church, my grandfather produced a trumpet from his bag and said to his friends, "Let's see how many are ready to go when Gabriel blows his horn."
While his friend waited in a nearby tree, my grandfather climbed onto the rafters and waited in the heat for the subsquent alter call. Once again, the familiar question, and once again each member raised his hand to indicate they were ready. Then my grandfather cut down on an enthusiastic chorus of "When the Saints Go Marching in."   No one knows how many heart attacks or injuries as the worshippers came pouring out of the windows and doors, trampling each other and destroying church pews. One would assume that some might have done a little more serious soul searching once the trumpet started to sound. They never caught up with my grandfather.

The mention of Charlie Rutledge is synonymous with black magic. Some rumors are likely exaggerated, though not without the foundation of some fact. His daughter Edith, adhered to unusual superstitions, she always turned her mirrirs to the wall every night before retiring. I would not have doubted her ability to cast a garden variety spell or two herself.

Helen Stinnett Lucas, my grandmother's neice, spent a lot of her life with my grandmother after her own mother died. She tells the story of the night the devil came for Uncle Charlie. She speaks of the night that my grandfather showed up at my grandmothers house nedding shelter for the night. Whether he was running from the law or the devil, Harriett Rutledge would never turn anyone away, not even Charlie Rutledge. Some time long after they had bedded down, they were all awakened by the sound of growling and gnashing of teeth. The door off the livingroom where Charlie slept sounded as though it were being battered in an attempt to break it down. Helen said she could see the bulging of the front door as Charlie pushed a wardrobe in front of it. The children gathered trying to get a look at the fearsome thing trying to gain entrance, the noise continued but there was nothing visible on the porch. It was only Harriett praying in the name of Jesus that the adversary fled.

There must have been some good in him, particularly as he grew older and mellowed. I recently found a letter to my grandpa from his son Drew while he was stationed in Europe during WW 2. The letter thanked his dad for the money he had sent and for taking Basil fishing in his absence.

Whenever he came, he always stayed with his daughter Edith. After Charlie had spent decades as a proverbial ladies man, reportedly preying on the generousity of wealthy women, he eventually remarried at an advanced age to a woman named Minnie from Alabama. After Minnie's death, it was Edith who insisted on bringing her fahter home, who was now aged and in failing health. He spent his last days in the home of Edith and her husband, Joe Tuck, where he soon died. Near the end he asked for Harriett who came without hesitation. She took him by the hand and prayed with him until his last breath. Yes, I do believe in deathbed slavation as I am reminded of the thief on the cross and can only hope that Charlie Rutledge availed himself to some redemption. Nonetheless, when darkness fell Uncle Joe always steered clear of the room where old man Ratledge died, even if he had to sit in his yard until Edith came home.
Story written by Sherry Carver

Charles Cannon Rutledge was born July 1883 and died 1960 in Gastonia, NC.   He is probably buried at Gaston Memorial Cemetery. He and Harriett Stinnett married 21-Jun-1903 in Blount County, TN. The marriage certificate lists his name as Charles Ratledge.

Children:

1. Andrew Rutledge     09-Aug-1908- 01-Dec-1958
     +Dora Forrester
        1. Basil Rutledge
        2. Edna Rutledge

2. Laura Edith Rutledge   06-Mar-1911-04-Dec-1979
      +William Joseph Tuck    02-Jul-1894- Oct, 1987

3. Emily Rutledge   29-Jul-1919-24-Mar-1973
       +Johnny Carver 18-Nov-1908- 27-Feb-1970
          1. Sherry Carver
          2. Karen Carver