This is a work in
progress and will be continue to be written.

 

A Useless Place.

The history of our neighborhood is a story of preservation, but not just by people who have loved it. While flatter, more fertile land all around us was farmed and parts of the slate belt that underlie our land was mined, the thinly covered rocks and steep gullies that give our neighborhood its dramatic beauty also made it useless for farming or mining. Not even the Indians of 5,000 years ago chose to stay camped here for more than a season at a time. Large crude stemmed spearpoints and tiny, lethal arrow points that needed the superior slate and flint of the creek bed have been found near the creek, but no pottery from permanent villages.

The Morgan/Mason Farm.

Mark Morgan’s famous farm, begun in the 1740s, became a plantation that stretched onto what is now Finley golf course. Like nine of his fellow Carolinians, he was proud to contribute land for building UNC. The Reverend James Mason married Mary Morgan, and looked forward to a life of God, family, and farm. When his two remaining daughters died in their twenties, the couple wrote a will leaving all 800 acres to UNC. A century later, the bequest became the Mason Farm Biological Reserve. But the families who dominate the names in our neighborhood lived near the golf course, and our neighborhood was never the center of their prosperity.

The Kings Mill.

The waters of Morgan Creek did support a mill whose old chimney and small building foundation remain. The mill stone was discovered by a neighbor and now serves as an entry to the herb garden at the BOT. The miller’s family, Baxter and Jeanette King built their house in 1880 and later sold it to Henderson and Cornelia Oldham, a well-respected black couple with six children. The house was abandoned for 14 years while Mr. Oldham’s will was being executed. During this time it burned to the ground, and historians assume that UNC students torched it “for sport.”

At Last, a Purpose.

Our neighborhood’s difficult terrain was perfect for one business: distilleries from 1920-1933. Unlike moonshiners in the mountains, our neighborhood “blockers” (from “blockade”) were respectable businessman and usually teetotalers. They bought their meal wholesale and built 150-gallon stills with $300 worth of parts and could make a profit of $1,100 in five days. They were usually tipped off if federal agents were about to raid, and they declined to fight for something they could rebuild in less than a week. If caught, they could count on a sympathetic jury and a light sentence.

Billy Hunt’s Extensive Legacy.

In the 1930s, William Lanier Hunt fell in love with “a pile of rocks” and the ancient Rhododendrons that were being stolen by the townspeople.

To be continued...