Born in McMinn County, Tennessee, Charles Cannon Rutledge was the son of James Franklin and Bessie Goins Rutledge. Charlie Rutledge prided himself on having a reputation of being as mean as he was handsome, those still living say it was so. The blood of the Cherokee ran strong in his veins and showed in his chiseled cheekbones, poker straight hair and intense stare. He made his brags he had sold his soul to the devil for a thousand years, but his estranged wife Harriett wouldn't hear any of it. Dismissing him as being full of hot air, she never gave up hope of his redemption. She must have been a mere slip of a girl when he won her heart, for she married him at an early age and set about the task of raising her family with little or no help from him. Having suffered neglect and abuse at the hands of her husband, Harriett turned to her faith as her strength. Her faith in the Almighty would not only see her through, it would stand as a legacy which she would pass on to generations which followed. Charlie took issue in the fact that she was able to stand strong in her faith in spite of him, and he took delight in ridiculing her upon finding her on her knees. Eventually the couple divorced, which was probably a relief to everyone concerned. Believing herself to be bound in marriage in the eyes of the Lord, Harriett remained faithful to her vows for the rest of her life.
As a young man, Charlie was infamous for his mischief. One story goes that he and a friend had a job working on a railroad. There was a road to the job site, but the shortest route was over the top of the ridge, on foot. The days of summer were long and hot, and by the time they reached the negro church where a revival was being held, they were ready to drink from the spring and rest under the trees before continuing their way home. They arrived each night of the work week just in time to hear the pastor's altar call through the open window. When he asked how many were ready to go when Gabriel blows his "hawn" they all signalled by the uplifting of hands that indeed all were ready. When Saturday came, the work at the railroad ceased at mid day, and as they approached the little black church, my grandfather produced a trumpet from his bag and said to his friends, "Lets find out how many of these _ _ _ _ _ _ _ are ready to go when Gabriel blows his "hawn". While his friends waited in a nearby tree, my grandfather climbed into the rafters and waited in the heat of the church service for the subsquent altar call. Once again, the familiar question and once again each member raised his hands to indicate he was ready. Then my grandfather cut down on and enthusiatic chorus of "When the Saints Go Marching In". No one knows how many injuries and heart attacks resulted as worshippers poured out of the windows and doors, trampling each other and destroying church pews. One might assume that some might have done a little more serious soul searching once the trumpet started to sound. They never caught up with my grandpa.
The mention of Charlie Rutledge is synonimus with black magic. Some rumors were likely exagerated, probably not without the foundation of some fact. His daughter, Edith, adhered to some unusual superstitions, she turned her mirrors to the wall nightly before retiring. I would not doubt her ability to cast a garden variety spell or two herself. Helen Stinnett Lucas, my grandmothers neice, spent a lot of her young life with my grandmother after her own mother died. She tells the story of the 'night the devil came for uncle Charlie'. She tells of the night that my grandfather showed up at my Grandmothers house needing shelter for the night. Whether he was running from the law or the devil, Harriett Rutledge would not have turned anyone away, not even Charlie. Hours after they bedded down, they were all awakened by the sounds of growling and gnashing of teeth, as well as the sound of the door off the livingroom where Charlie slept being battered in an attempt to break it down. Helen said she could see the bulging of the locked door as Uncle Charlie pushed a wardrobe in front of it. As the children gathered to try and get a look at the fearsome thing that was trying to gain entrance, the noise continued, yet there was nothing visible on the porch. It was only Harriett praying in the name of Jesus that the unseen adversary fled.
There must have been some good in him, particularly as he grew older and mellowed. I recently found a letter written to my grandpa from his son Drew, while he was stationed in Europe during WW2. The letter thanked his dad for the money he had sent, and for taking his son Basil fishing in his absence.
Whenever he came, he always stayed with his daughter Edith. After Charlie had spent decades as a proverbial ladies man, reportedly preying on the generousity of wealthy women, he eventually remarried at an advanced age to a woman from Alabama named Minnie. After Minnies death, it was edith who insisted on bringing her father home, who was now aged and in failing health. He spent his last days in the home of Edith and he husband Joe Tuck, where he soon died. Near the end he asked for Harriett who came without hesitation. She took him by the hand and prayed with him until his last breath. Yes, I do believe in death bed salvation, as I am reminded of the thief on the cross, and can only hope that Charlie Rutledge availed himself to the same redemption.
Nontheless, when darkness fell, Uncle Joe always steered clear of the room where 'Old man Ratledge' died, even if he had to sit in the yard till Edith came home. |
