JB's Early Years

My Great Grandfather was Jeremiah Hilton. He lived in Berkley County in the Sandridge Community on the road between Holly Hill and Charleston. His wife was Elizabeth Smith Hilton. Everyone knew them as Jerry and Lizzy. They made their living on a farm of about 300 acres. All the farming was done with mules. Legend has it that Jerry was a real “Character” with red hair and a fiery temper. They had eight children, one of whom was my Grandfather, Paul Tillman Hilton.

Paul and his wife, Gussie Welch Hilton, lived across the road from Paul’s father Jerry, and next door to Paul’s brother, Travis. Sandridge was a rural farming community that didn’t get electricity until 1942. The community drew its name from the long sandy ridge upon which the dirt road to Charleston lay as it passed through the Hilton's property. Paul and Gussie had seven children, the fourth being my father JB, born in 1922.

The story goes that JB didn’t have a “name” until he joined the army during WWII. He was “initial named” JB. That’s what everyone called him. When he joined the army he was told he must have a name so he named himself John Bingley. John was a name he just picked out of the air and Bingley was taken from his maternal grandfather, Bingley Welch.

When JB was a just a little fellow he established that he was not one to settle for less. His grandparents, Jerry and Lizzy had come over for Sunday dinner. As the meal was being served his mother put a pork chop on his plate. He looked up at her and announced that he wanted “two meats”. Grand Pa Jerry rolled with laughter. It made such an impression on Grandpa Jerry that it generated the nick name, “two meats” which he called little JB for the longest time.

Grandpa Jerry was known for his ability to express his feelings in no uncertain terms. JB inherited this quality from his grandfather. A most memorable demonstration of this came about when young JB was denied the opportunity to travel to the market in Charleston. Paul, J.B.’s father, in addition to farming, ran a butcher shop in a farmers market in Charleston. Every weekend he would take fresh meat from the farm down to Charleston for sale in the market. Buck, JB’s oldest brother, often went with his father to help out. As JB got a little older he wanted to make the trip too. One Friday evening, when told he was too young to go, watching as his father and older brother drove off, he threw a “conniption fit”, falling down, kicking and screaming, into the deep wheel ruts in the middle of the sandy road.

Time passed quickly, and soon JB grew old enough to help on the farm. As a teenager, he and Tom Brown, a black man that lived next door and helped them on the farm, were repairing a fence line in the edge of the swamp. Cows were foraging in the corn fields that bordered the swamp. As JB and Tom moved along the fence through the edge of the swamp, they discovered an alligator den. JB decided he needed to do something about the alligator as it might be a threat to the cows. After driving a fence spike into the end of a post, he had Tom Brown thrust the post down into the alligator’s hole, agitating the resident. After a minute or so of this, the alligator took hold of the post with its jaws and decided to come out of the hole to determine the source of the problem. As the alligator’s head came clear of the hole, J. B. sunk the axe deep into it's skull. He cut off the tail and took it home as he had heard alligator tail was good to eat. At his urging his mother tried to cook it but said the smell nearly killed her. Gussie threw most of it out to the dogs.

As a teenager JB also worked part-time as a laborer for the railroad loading and unloading freight, which included loading cotton bales onto flat cars, at the Holly Hill station. After graduating from Cross High School, JB went to work as a clerk for the railroad. The railroad took him away from the old homeplace in Sandridge and the low country, to a small town in the midlands where he would find a sweetheart that would become the love of his life.

06/07