Page 10 - Robeson Living Summer 2019

or no trace in his writing, except perhaps in his ability to cover his mind was never far away from Riverton, and when he occa-
political gatherings when he later worked for the Observer in sionally disappeared, even during a busy time at the Observer,
Charlotte. Among the many local bills, he introduced was one everyone knew he had gone for a while to walk the banks of the
to prohibit the sale of liquor in Scotland County and another to Lumber River. In the summer of 1907, he became ill and went to
“prohibit the sale of fire-crackers more than three inches long.” Wrightsville Beach in hopes of regaining his strength. When his
condition worsened, he left his work and retreated to Riverton.
Meanwhile, he was pursuing his love of poetry. “Barefooted” On October 17, 1907 in his large room on the second floor of
appeared on 6 June 1901 in the Youth’s Companion, one of the his parents’ home, he died of what was diagnosed as pernicious
nation’s most popular periodicals. Between January 1902 and anemia. He was buried in the family plot at Spring Hill Cemetery.
December 1905, the prestigious Century Magazine used eigh- On the tombstone were engraved lines from his “Sundown” and
teen of McNeill’s poems, both lyrics and dialect verses. the designation “Poet Laureate of North Carolina,” an unofficial
title tendered him after he received the Patterson Cup. This pe-
In Charlotte, editor Joseph P. Caldwell of the Observer, a man riod of activity was brought to an abrupt close by illness, which
of humor and ability, was searching for a feature-story writer to gradually increased until early in 1907 when he had to give up
succeed Isaac Ervin Avery, recently deceased. When in the sum- and go home to rest.
mer of 1904 H. E. C. (Red Buck) Bryant, a traveling representa-
tive of the Observer, called on McNeill in Laurinburg, McNeill Sundown
admitted he was ready to leave the law profession; and after an Hills, wrapped in gray, standing along the west;
interview in Charlotte, Caldwell hired him. Immediately Mc- Clouds, dimly lighted, gathering slowly;
Neill started sending in copy to the Observer, though he did not The star of peace at watch above the crest --
officially join the staff until 1 Sept. 1904. Caldwell specified no Oh, holy, holy, holy!
definite duties. McNeill was to write whatever and whenever
he wished; if he turned in no copy, Caldwell would understand. We know, O Lord, so little what is best;
For the next three years, the editor’s faith in McNeill was am- Wingless, we move so lowly;
ply rewarded. True, his columns came out irregularly, often on But in thy calm all-knowledge let us rest --
successive days, then nothing appeared for weeks. His columns Oh, holy, holy, holy!
had various titles: among them, “From Street and Lobby,” “Lit-
tle Essays,” “Sunday Observations,” and “Unclassified Stunts.” Lee M. White, editor of Wake Forest Student Vol. XXVII De-
He first used the heading “Songs Merry and Sad” on 2 October. cember 1907 No. 4 wrote “the death of Mr. McNeill, North Caro-
lina and the South has lost one of her most brilliant men of letters.
On October 19, 1905 the Patterson Cup, the first literary trophy The “Robert Burns of the Old North State” is with us no more.
in North Carolina, was awarded McNeill for a manuscript of po- Every lover of the beautiful, of poetry, of nature, feels his loss
ems published later as Songs Merry and Sad (1906). The award keenly, for his pen.”
had just been established by Mrs. Lindsay Patterson in honor
of her father, William Houston Patterson. President Theodore Sunburnt Boys
Roosevelt, at that time touring the State, made the presentation Down on the Lumbee river
for the North Carolina Literary and Historical Association at the Where the eddies ripple cool
annual meeting of that body in Raleigh. Your boat, I know, glides stealthily
About some shady pool.
McNeill’s reply to the President after he presented the award The summer’s heats have lulled asleep
“Mr. President, my joy in this golden trophy is heightened by The fish-hawk’s chattering noise,
the fortune which permits me to take it from the hand of the And all the swamp lies hushed about
foremost citizen of the world. To you, sir, to Mrs. Lindsay Pat- You sunburnt boys.
terson, our gracious matron of letters, and to the committee of
scholars whose judgment was kind to me, all thanks.” Imme- You see the minnow’s waves that rock
diately after receiving the cup, he took the first train home to The cradled lily leaves.
Scotland County to show it to his mother. From a far field some farmer’s song,
Singing among his sheaves,
On the occasion of this award, J. P. Caldwell of the Observer, Comes mellow to you where you sit,
bursting with pride in the poet whom he had sponsored, wrote Each man with boatman’s poise,
“Mark you, masters, — and this may be said without danger of There, in the shimmering water lights,
turning his hard-Scotch head, — the man is a genius. The only You sunburnt boys.
fear concerning him is that North Carolina cannot hold him.”
I know your haunts: each gnarly bole
There seems little doubt that the three years during which he That guards the waterside,
worked for the Observer were among the happiest, and certainly Each tuft of flags and rushes where
they were the most productive, of McNeill’s life as a writer. To The river reptiles hide,
the rural McNeill, Charlotte seemed like a metropolis, and he Each dimpling nook wherein the bass
was always delighted with the throngs coming and going. Yet His eager life employs
Robeson Living ~ Summer 2019 Until he dies -- the captive of Page 10