Recently in an after-dinner conversation with a friend who moved to Orangeburg from the northern midwestern United States, I referred to Orangeburg County “before the Yankees came.” With a smile, he quickly bounced back, “Why do you call us Yankees? Why not Notherners? I don’t refer to you as a Rebel.” He didn’t understand that for most of us with our slow Southern drawl, it’s much easier to say “Yankee” than “Northerner.”

His eyes focused in on me as I told him the word “Yankee” was historically embedded in the Orangeburg culture because Yankees were responsible for Orangeburg’s most destructive and constructive events in the city’s history. The “destructive” came in the 1865 fading days of the Civil War when Gen. Willliam T. Sherman’s Union troops fought their way into town before leaving an exit path of destruction. The “constructive” came in 1952 with the building of a four-lane highway through the inner city to retain a steady flow of Yankee tourist dollars that began in 1947 when U.S. Highway 301 was rerouted through Orangeburg..

Ironically, two of Orangeburg’s existing roadways, one to Columbia and the other to the sunshine of Florida, were the only factors in creating both the bad and good occurrences spawned by both Yankee transportation movements. Sherman wanted to get to Columbia as quickly as possible and likewise for the feds in getting the Yankees to Florida. Orangeburg’s geographical location filled the bill for the needs of both. Now the Florida traffic rides on Interstate 95 with its 1,925-mile stretch from Maine.

Union soldiers on foot or horseback with loaded rifles, cannons and torches were the first to penetrate the municipality. Eighty-two years later, the unrelated second influx came with Yankee motoring tourists loaded with Yankee dollars. Sherman and his troops stayed only three days. Their departure from the city was acknowledged with damnation and relief. The 301 passage for Yankee tourists lasted 30 years. Their departure from 301 was acclaimed with deep appreciation for fostering three decades of economic wellbeing in the city. However, in reality, the understandable departure was as undesirable as the introduction of the boll weevil in 1918.

Sherman left behind a burning county courthouse, homes and uprooted rail lines. The 301 Yankees left behind a 2.4-mile, four-lane thoroughfare named John C. Calhoun Drive that they were responsible for its building. But most of all, they came to town when Orangeburg needed an economic jump start into diversification and away from an ailing cotton economy.

From the outset, the World War II song “Working for the Yankee Dollar” began defining prosperity for the citizens of Orangeburg. The city’s traffic lane of Russell Street with its U.S. Highway 301 signs quickly served as a welcoming, broad pardon to all Yankees — even to those who had kinship to Sherman. As one old-timer put it, “Pickin’ Yankees was a heckuva’ lot easier and more profitable than picking cotton.”

The association of Orangeburg and U.S. Highway 301 was the easiest and most profitable transportation venture in the city’s history. To route the main tourist highway from Delaware to Florida through Orangeburg only required the changing of some road signs — nothing else, not even any paving. The immediate flow of Yankees pumped money into Orangeburg’s two existing hotels, eating establishments and service stations. The traffic upsurge quickly produced evidence of a desperate need for additional tourist lodging and dining facilities and motor service stations. Five Chop Road (North 301) and Edisto Drive (South 301) were among the first venues for motel construction and eating facilities. Santee and Bamberg also joined in on the motel building and other facilities.

With the passage of time and South Carolina back in the federal fold after the Civil War, the words Yankee and Yank faded as words of derogation to most Southerners. While on their way to France to fight Germans in World War I, thousands of area soldiers cheered to George M. Cohen’s patriotic lyrics of “Over there, over there, send the word over there that the Yanks are coming ...”

When Orangeburg was gearing up for the first Northerners going south through the city on the new 301 route to Florida, the word Yank didn’t catch on and Yankee in the singular and Yankees in the plural became the standard. The reason for the plural was because seldom would there be a single Yank in a car or sitting in a restaurant eating alone.

A 1951 traffic survey revealed that an average of more than 10,500 vehicles traveled daily through Orangeburg. The heavy tourist traffic combined with local vehicle movements created intolerable roadway congestion. The federal highway authorities notified official Orangeburg to solve the traffic impact problem on 301 or endure the consequence of having the tourist route moved away from the city.

Realizing the departure of the 301 tourist traffic would be a disastrous blow to Orangeburg’s economy, Mayor Robert Jennings and his city council gave top priority to the retention of 301 through the city. To satisfy the demand for relief of the overcrowding of the tourist route, the inner city was faced with the most extensive construction project in its history.

Ruling out Russell Street with its almost 2 miles of dense residential/commercial habitation, city and state engineers decided on a new four-lane highway that would be in a close parallel to Russell Street, the city’s longest traffic thoroughfare and with direct links to the existing 301. Two-tenths of a mile south of Russell was Calhoun Street, with a dead end near the existing 301 and Edisto River bridge. The other end would be at an intersection with Five Chop Road, the original 301 north entry into the city’s environs. The plan called for razing or moving more than 50 houses.

As soon as plans for the new roadway were made public, Mayor Jennings and his council were faced with a public upheaval. The Times and Democrat labeled it as “one of the biggest controversies in the history of the city of Orangeburg.” In a failed attempt, more than 2,000 citizens signed a petition objecting to the proposed construction of the new 301. The protesters claimed the route would be a danger for school children and would lower property values, among other claims.

The viability of today’s John C. Calhoun Drive since the demise of tourist traffic has proven the route built for tourism was possibly one of the smartest decisions ever made by official Orangeburg.

n Dean Livingston is retired publisher of The Times and Democrat. He is author of the book “Yesteryears ... A newsman’s look back at the events and people who have influenced the histories of Orangeburg and Calhoun counties.”

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