Day 6
Sunday, June 6
When I woke up and checked the weather, the radar was showing a large blob of red and yellow headed my way. So, I decided to try and squeeze in a quick stop at Wrightsville Beach before the rain hit.
There was plenty of parking along the road, and what looked like parking meters. They were at one time. Now all parking at the beach is done through the Flowbird phone app. So, I stood there leaning against the car and downloaded the app, registered my vehicle, tag number and credit card. Only to be used once.
There's a decal on the post with a number. Once the app was loaded and running, it gave me the posted number of that meter. Great technology, or a bit creepy?
There’s a small municipal park right by the bridge, and I walked down to it. On the far side, right next to the bridge is where my Dad worked way back when. It was a lab that studied corrosion. The last time I was here, the lot was empty and a realtor told me it was being sold to developers. This is my first visit since.
Walking out to the edge of one of the public docks, I noticed a poorly moored boat. Not until my second look did I realize just how poor it was. I don’t know who it belongs to, but it had one of those orange stickers on it that you sometimes see on abandoned cars.
When the rain started, I hung out under the gazebo chatting with a family who had planned to take their boat out. When it tapered off, it was back to the car, back across the waterway and a stop for lunch at a place called the Fish House Grill.
On the far side of their lot, you can see the Harbor Island Bridge. It's a draw bridge with a grated surface that hums as you drive over it. As kids, we called it the Whistling Bridge. It was always green. Seeing it painted blue just seemed wrong.
With the rain starting to splatter again, it was a perfect excuse to spend a little time in another brewery. The Wrightsville Beach Brewery was just the place.
Back to my sister's house for a while, then out for sunset again. I ditched the car at a large municipal lot on Market Street and started walking. No bragging, but how often do you get the second spot, right inside the entrance?
I hadn't gone far when I came across another historical marker from one of the city's less than memorable periods. I had only heard of this recently myself. By the late 1800's, Wilmington was segregated by race. Both blacks and whites mostly kept to their own communities. One place that wasn't segregated was the city government. The black middle class was growing faster than the white. Laws were being passed to bring down economic barriers.
In 1897, nine prominent Wilmington men started conspiring to put an end to it. They called themselves the Secret Nine. There first goal was to push white resentment as a wedge issue in the upcoming elections, spinning furiously. They referred to North Carolina as a "white man's state" and played up fear of "negro rule."
The rhetoric became more and more severe and came to a head on November 9th, 1898. Hugh McRae, one of he Secret Nine organized a white supremacist rally at the city courthouse, bringing a copy of the "White Declaration of Independence" to be read aloud.
McRae's group summoned the Committee of Colored Citizens and gave them an ultimatum. Fall into line with the new rules and shut down the newspaper, the Daily Record, or else.
The next morning, five hundred white businessmen met at the armory and marched to the office of the Daily Record, doused it with kerosene and burned it down. After a false rumor started to spread that a group of blacks had fired on the mob, all hell broke loose.
The mob grew to over two thousand. They torched black owned businesses and homes. Many were killed before the day was over. The numbers aren't know, but estimated between sixty and three hundred.
But, that wasn't the end of it. The mob forced the mayor, city aldermen and police chief to resign at gunpoint. Alfred Wadell, one of the coup leaders, was then installed as mayor. A list was drawn up and every prominent black leader forced to leave town.
Hugh McRae donated land to the city as a whites only park. Until two years ago, the park still bore his name. It was the closest park to where I lives as a kid. I'm just glad they finally changed the name.
On a much happier note, just up the street sits Wilmington's first microbrewery, the Front Street Brewery. While the brewery only opening in 1995, the building dates back to 1865.
After a couple of pints, it was time to settle in for sunset.
I've heard many street musicians in my day. This guy had the most eclectic playlist. He did some blues, Beatles, The Who and even even Bo Diddley.
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