This is an historic African-American church. I can’t locate any history of the congregation at this time. The earliest burials noted in the cemetery date to the 1920s, so that might give an indication as to when the church was built.
On 17 December 1937, Livingston Snow (1886-1966) walked into the dining room of his sister and brother-in-law’s house [pictured below] and executed them at point blank range. The story made headlines across the South and was all the buzz on the streets of Quitman. One of the more macabre notices, in the Tallahassee Democrat read: Each is Shot Through Head at Breakfast. By all accounts, Snow was “raging”, indicating he was criminally insane.
The victims were Lee W. Branch (1871-1937) and his wife Jamie Snow Branch (1875-1937), Livingston Snow’s sister. Research suggests that the family once owned the magnificent farmhouse that draws photographers to the area to this day. Jamie’s father was Dr. S. N. Snow (1840-1905) and her mother Scotia Livingston Snow (1848-1904). The Branches were quite successful; Lee Branch was a prominent attorney who had once practiced in Washington, D. C., and had formerly been president of the Georgia Bar Association. This was a powerful position that connected the family to the most influential people in Georgia. At the time of his death he had been recently appointed to the state board of education by Governor E. D. Rivers. The Branches were survived by a daughter, Lalla Branch Kirkpatrick (1910-1993), who was living in the Panama Canal Zone at the time. Her husband was the highly decorated Navy Rear Admiral Charles C. Kirkpatrick (1907-1988).
According to contemporary accounts, “The shooting took place at the breakfast table, where Mr. and Mrs. Branch, and Snow’s brother, Russell Snow (1888-1966), were seated. Branch and his wife were killed instantly. Each was shot through the head. Grady Marable, Quitman officer and the first to reach the scene, said: “Someone phoned me from the residence to come at once and I was met at the door by Mrs. T. R. Moye, a neighbor and wife of a physician. Inside the house I found Dr. T. R. Moye and Russell Snow wrestling on the floor with Livingston Snow. I told them I would take him into custody and after a scuffle I overcame him. Russell Snow had knocked the gun from his brother’s hand. Livingston Snow was raving. I understand that he was mentally ill and plans were being made to take him to an institution. Mrs. Branch lay dead in the doorway between the music room and living room. She evidently had gotten up when the shooting started. Mr. Branch sat dead at the breakfast table. He sat upright, leaning slightly to one side. There was bullet wound in the back of Mrs. Branch’s head. Mr. Branch was shot just above the left eye. The bullet came out near the temple and fell spent on the floor. Sheriff Colin Clanton and Police Chief George Clanton of Quitman came and the three of us took Livingston Snow to the Brooks County Jail…Friends of the family said Russell Snow, a lawyer for many years associated with Branch, had come here from Cocoa, Fla., his home, for a brief visit.” –Tallahassee Democrat, 17 December 1937.
Russell Snow, with whom Livingston had been living in Florida, gave a slightly more graphic account of the unfolding tragedy: “All of us had known for some time of his mental condition and his subsequent melancholia. He knew of the plan for him to leave this morning with me and friends for Milledgeville where he was to be given treatment. Early this morning I was awakened by Livingston leaving the Branch house. He returned about 8:15 and called to me upstairs that sister was waiting breakfast and to hurry on down. We had concluded breakfast and I was waiting for the cook to bring me a cup of coffee when Livingston suddenly pushed his chair out, stood up quickly, and said ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ and fired point blank into the head of Mr. Branch. Mr. Branch remained in a seated position and except for the look appeared as if living…My sister fled into the reception hall and Livingston followed, firing a bullet at close range through her head. I believe both were killed instantly…Then began a terrific struggle for possession of the pistol. In the fight, I was thrown violently to the floor and as he stood he fired at me and missed and then the pistol snapped twice. The failure of the last two cartridges to explode saved my life. As soon as I could get to my feet, I rushed at him, after he had broken the pistol, ejected the shells and was reloading the weapon from cartridges. In the struggle I tripped him and we fought on the floor. Finally I jerked the pistol away, threw it into a corner, and then began choking him into submission. He was on the floor and I was on top of him trying to subdue him when Dr. T. R. Moye, who heard the shots, ran to my assistance and then the police came.” -via uncredited contemporary newspaper account on Findagrave.
Livingston Snow told Sheriff Clanton he “intended to wipe out the family and then commit suicide.” Russell Snow swore out a lunacy warrant against his brother. In short order, a commission judged him insane and ordered him committed with a detainer filed in the event he should recover. The next day, the solicitor, Sheriff Clanton, and county commissioner Turner Brice took him, handcuffed, to the state mental hospital in Milledgeville. It was common practice among upper class whites of the time to dispose of such issues in a quick and quiet manner. Considering the family’s connections, this was an expected outcome. Had this crime been committed by someone black or of the white working class, much more information would have come to light. Apparently, he remained institutionalized for the remainder of his life, as his death record notes that he died in Baldwin County, Georgia. He is buried in Madison, Florida, beside his parents and several of his siblings in Oak Ridge Cemetery. Lee and Jamie Snow Branch are buried in Quitman.
As to Livingston Snow the man, he attended Emory College [now Emory University] where he was a member of the Kappa Alpha Fraternity, was elected to what I presume was the student council, and played football and baseball. Some sources described him as a retired capitalist and others a retired pecan merchant.
My friend, Florida architectural historian Alyssa McManus shared these facts, which she discovered through extensive research: After his parents deaths, he and Russell were the legal charges of his sister Jamie and her husband. He was 14 at the time of his father’s death and ‘away at school’ in Valdosta. He seems to have attended college early. He attended Emory in Atlanta from 1906-1908…He was an avid bridge player. In 1910, he lived with his maid. I don’t know if she’d worked for the family. On the census, the relationship to her was ‘brother in law”, which is quite curious. He was involved with the establishment of a canning plant. He was a WWI vet. He threw parties and was in the society pages of Asheville frequently. He seemed quite sane to me. His sister visited him in Asheville frequently enough to have her own friends there. Makes me wonder what happened that they determined his was mentally ill…He had a funeral that was announced in the Tallahassee Democrat...I am imagining a Truman Capote type. He never did marry and never was a lady friend mentioned. I’m not assuming, but maybe he did not prefer ladies. He was best man or usher at several weddings. So far as a career, he worked for Armour packing and then Rogers Grocers, both times as a traveling salesman.
Beyond that, nothing so far. As to the Capote reference, it’s very possible that Livingston Snow was gay. Since he never married or had “lady friends” that seems a fair conclusion. Since being gay at the time was legally classified as a mental illness for which criminal penalties existed, that could have very well played into the perception by his family that he was insane. This is mere conjecture, but it hearkens to the interior turmoil of many gay men and women of the time. It certainly doesn’t justify what he did, but if he had been embarrassing the family with bizarre behavior, their decision to institutionalize him may have been all it took to push him over the edge. Whatever the reason, it’s a sad story.
This is an interesting old farmhouse in the County Line Baptist Church neighborhood, set back from the road on what appears to be an historic farm. The form is a bit unusual. It’s a central hallway cottage, made to look larger by a hip roof. The porch roof has been extended to the left to accommodate a carport. The sidelights would suggest the house likely dates to the late 19th century.
Historic resource surveys were unable to assign a date to this structure, but it probably dates to the late 1800s or early 1900s. Obviously, the windows have been changed. It features two front doors, typical of a time when women and men entered the sanctuary separately. It’s located in southwestern Stewart County, near the Quitman County line.
A large cemetery is located beside the church, indicating that it has been an historically large congregation. Interestingly, there are a few burials dating to the 1850s, but the vast majority date from the 1890s onward.
When I first saw this building near County Line Baptist Church, I thought it was a rare single-pen house, but looking at in perspective, I believe it may have been a precinct house. A less likely option would be that it was a store, but for now, I’m identifying it as a precinct house. In this part of Georgia, such structures are sometimes known as courthouses. If anyone knows, please share and I’ll update the post.
This has been identified locally as the Scienceville Church, and I believe it was an African-American congregation. Scienceville must have been early community in Stewart County, and I’ve since lost a reference I once had stating that there was a plantation at Scienceville before the Civil War. The name didn’t stick around too long because other than the name of the church, it’s lost to history. There was a post office in the community from 1850-1901. In the early 1900s, County Line School and a community house were located nearby. Findagrave notes that a cemetery is located at this property, and identifies the graves of Steven Weathersby (1778-1840) and his son Vincent A. Weathersby (1813-1860). It’s likely that they were the owners of the surrounding land and the plantation.
One more identified grave belongs to Rev. Eddie Smith (1907-1956). Rev. Smith was most likely the pastor of this church, but again, I have no background on any of these people. Eric Korn wrote to say that he had discovered that Rev. Eddie Smith was white.
This nice shotgun building sits behind a gate one what was likely a large farm or timber operation. To me, the placement of the windows and the fact it’s not set on piers make a proper identification difficult. I first thought it was a shotgun house, but it would probably be elevated if it were. It could also have been a commissary, but most commissaries don’t have this many windows. I hope someone knows and I’ll probably be surprised when I find out. Whatever it was, it’s a nice old building and I’m glad someone has helped it survive.
This is another amazing survivor of one of the most enduring utilitarian house types in Georgia. The saddlebag, a double-pen form, was almost always built for tenant purposes and those that remain are a reminder of lost agricultural and economic practices. The requirements of manual labor that have been vastly reduced by modern machinery meant that large landowners housed their laborers and counted that incentive as part of their pay. Sharecropping was barely better than indentured servitude and was a common form of employment. I don’t romanticize that world but I will always work to document its built environment.
This example has a nice shed room across the rear, an addition commonly found with this form.
Located in rural Stewart County, Sardis Methodist Church was established in the 1840s. According to Mr. Joe Barge, who gave us a fascinating tour of the property, the church building dates to circa 1855. It was built by Joseph Sessions (1794-1856) and his nephew, Benjamin Franklin Barge (1810-1873).
The Barge family has been a part of the congregation since its inception and much of the farm and timberland around the church has been in the family during that time. The area is known as Trotman, though appears on maps, incorrectly, as Troutman. If I recall correctly, Mr. Barge said that seven generations of his family are buried in the cemetery.
The church had fallen into serious disrepair by the 1970s. Restoration was the only option members felt was viable and the work was completed by 1982. One gets a sense of the pride that members have in their church, from the well maintained cemetery and churchyard to the interior. I believe the congregation meets just once a month now, but they’re still active and take excellent care of this special place.
Country churches like Sardis are becoming much less common these days, as families disperse from rural areas, but they’re still among the great rural landmarks of Georgia. It’s inspiring to see congregations embracing and preserving their history, and Sardis does as good a job as any I’ve seen in my travels.
Some of the most fascinating and architecturally important vernacular structures I find in my travels are hidden behind shrubs and other vegetation. I’m not one to just ignore such a place, so I have quite a few images in my archives that look very similar to this one. It’s located just north of Richland.
Since I couldn’t see all of it, I’m identifying it as a single-pen log house. A front porch was added at some point in its history, as well as a more modern roof than would have originally been associated with this type of utilitarian construction, but the overall footprint of the house looks to be original. I would date it to the last quarter of the 19th century without having more information, but it could be older than that. Log structures tend to age faster than those of more commercial design, so it’s hard to tell.