The Sampit Drawbridge Tragedy

Another tragedy took place on the Sampit River many years after the Money Pit was first dug. While the saga of the Money Pit left a legacy of ghosts, mystery, and treasure, the Sampit drawbridge tragedy broke hearts and created an enduring mystery that may never be solved.

One fateful August night in 1931, a terrible drawbridge accident took the lives of twenty-three Georgetown County people returning from a beach outing. Despite detailed investigation, no one is sure exactly what happened. The cause of the tragedy remains a mystery.

The modern Sylvan L. Rosen Bridge crosses the Sampit River to link the Maryville neighborhood with the rest of Georgetown. The twin spans of the tall bridge allow boats to pass beneath unheeded. It is difficult to picture, in the same place, a single flat drawbridge that was raised, then lowered every time a boat required passage. Yet in 1931, a drawbridge was part of everyday life for those who regularly crossed the Sampit.

The Sampit drawbridge was a single-leaf bascule bridge. Bascule is the French word for seesaw or balance, the principle upon which most drawbridges work. A bascule bridge consists of either one or two spans, or leaves. Each leaf has a center weight that continuously balances the span throughout the raise, or draw. Instead of having two leaves that opened in the center, the Sampit drawbridge had a single leaf that hinged on the north bank of the river and opened on the south bank.

The draw was closed most of the time. Drivers could usually take their vehicles over the drawbridge without having to wait for it to close. During those times when the draw was open, gates on either side of the drawbridge were closed. Closing the gates prevented vehicles traveling south, from the Georgetown side, from hitting the raised leaf and kept vehicles traveling north, from the Maryville side, from continuing forty feet to the riverbank and plunging into the river below. Vehicles had to wait behind the closed gates for the drawbridge to lower and the gates to open. Still, waiting for the drawbridge to close in 1931 was a far cry from a decade earlier, when all traffic had to wait to be carried across on a ferry.

On the night of Monday, August 3, 1931, a driver traveling north on Route 40 failed to stop in time for the closed gate on the Maryville—or south—side of the open drawbridge. He was driving a rented school bus. The bus crashed through the gate, traveled forty feet to the riverbank, then plunged into the Sampit. The result was one of the most tragic accidents in the county’s history.

Why did the driver not stop at the closed gate? And why could he not stop in the forty feet between the gate and the river?

That morning, five rented school buses filled with men, women, and children had left Andrews for a day of picnicking at Riverside Beach near Mount Pleasant. At the end of the picnic, the buses departed Riverside Beach for the return trip to Andrews at approximately 8:45 P.M.

Later that evening, after the first three buses drove safely across the Sampit River drawbridge, the gates were closed so the draw could be opened. While the draw was open and the gates closed, the fourth and fifth buses approached. The fourth bus did not slow down as it neared the barricaded drawbridge but rather broke through the gate and plunged into the river, which was thirty-six feet deep at that point. Of the twenty-four people on the bus, only one survived. Eighteen-year-old Jerome Fraser swam to the fender of the drawbridge, where bridge tender C. E. Richardson and his helper, Willie Lambert, pulled him out.

The drawbridge was closing as the fifth bus arrived. It picked up Fraser, took him into Georgetown for emergency treatment of his cut hand, then continued to Andrews.

News of the accident reached Andrews before the buses did. Family members of the riders of all five buses gathered to await the news of who was aboard the ill-fated fourth bus. When the fifth and last bus, carrying Fred Green, organizer of the picnic, arrived in Andrews, Green completed a check of his passenger lists. He determined who had been riding the fourth bus.

Efforts to raise the bus began immediately after the accident and lasted through the night. At 5 A.M. Tuesday, the sunken bus was raised and floated down the river to Georgetown. Dragging the river also began immediately after the accident. It continued until 8:45 A.M. Wednesday, when the last body was found.

Eleven men, nine women, and three children had drowned. The victims ranged in age from two to fifty-three. All of the victims were black with the exception of the white bus owner and his son.

An estimated five thousand people visited the Sampit drawbridge Tuesday as friends and relatives of the victims waited during recovery operations. An unidentified white woman shouting “I want to drown myself here!” had to be restrained by her companion and a bridge tender as she fought to throw herself off the drawbridge and into the river Tuesday night.

An inquest was held the day after the accident by Magistrate O. M. Higgins. Giving testimony were bridge tender C. E. Richardson, Richardson’s helper, Willie Lambert, and the survivor, Jerome Fraser—the only three people to witness the accident. Also testifying were Fred Green, organizer of the trip, and J. S. Bourne, who had participated in salvage operations.

In his sworn testimony at the inquest, Richardson said, “Last night about 11 o’clock, I had an occasion to open the draw to let a boat pass through. There are gates to be shut at each end about 40 feet from the draw. I closed and fastened the gates and then opened the draw. When the gates are closed there is a sign on each gate that would be facing the approach to the draw. They were on there last night. After I had closed the gates and had the draw almost open there was a truck coming towards Georgetown. I could see the truck coming around the curve and would judge [it] to be running about 40 miles per hour. The driver did not stop but hit the gates. Knocked it open and went right in overboard. [I] did not see the truck slow up or anything, but [it] came right on and went into the river. When the truck went overboard this young man popped up and hollered for help. I called Mr. Lambert to bring the boat. Lambert brought the boat, but the boy swam to the fenders of the bridge, and I climbed down the fenders and got him by the hand and helped him on the bridge. I have been bridge tender for about three years, and this gate has been knocked open twice before this night. The other gate has been knocked open once. These gates are fastened with a pin, and when hit, the pin jumps out. I am employed by the State Highway Department. I called the Highway Department’s attention each time that the gates were broken open.”

Funerals for the victims were held in Andrews and at Bethel A.M.E. Church in Georgetown. The local undertakers did not have enough hearses to handle all of the services in such a short period, so a number of caskets were carefully carried on trucks. Mourners came from all over the state, as well as from North Carolina, Massachusetts, Ohio, and New York.

Today, U.S. 17 traces the path once run by Route 40 from Charleston to Georgetown. Few reminders exist of the old drawbridge that once crossed the Sampit River, save those twenty-three graves in cemeteries throughout the county.

Accidental drowning was determined to be the cause of death for all of the victims. Despite careful investigation, it remains a mystery why the bus crashed through the guard gate, then traveled forty more feet to plunge into the river. A rumor suggested the bus owner’s son had imbibed so frequently from a bottle in his pocket that his driving was impaired as he piloted the bus toward Georgetown that fateful night.

Was that the reason?

We may never know.