BATH, S.C. (AP) - A bubbling creek, still pond and the ambitions of an Aiken County man infuse life into a dusty site that once sustained a thriving mill town.
A smokestack and rusty water tower rise above piles of rubble where John Jones has spent years using a backhoe to excavate brick tunnels, aqueducts, walls and other remnants of Bath Mill, a paper plant dating to the mid-19th century that was converted into a successful textile plant.
Jones was born three blocks from Bath Mill, one of several factories following Horse Creek through Bath, Clearwater, Langley, Warrenville and Graniteville. The Bath Mill land doesn’t look like much anymore, but the memories of a bustling company town keep Jones digging through debris to unearth the past.
“Everything you did in this community, you did right here at the mill. Everything was here. That was your life,” Jones said. “If you lost your job, you had seven days to move out (of company housing). Otherwise, they sent crews to move your furniture in the yard and your neighbors could just help themselves.”
Bath Mill’s legacy predates the Civil War. Around 1850, a paper mill was built on the site of a small grist mill. An 1863 fire that mostly destroyed the mill devastated the Southern economy.
The mill was the largest paper producer in the South. Paper for Confederate money and newspapers across the South were made there, said George Wingard, a University of South Carolina archaeologist who works at nearby Savannah River Site.
“They had to scrounge to print money for the Confederacy. Newspapers had to scrounge for newsprint,” Wingard said.
Textile operations began at Bath Mill a few years before the 20th century. The United Merchants and Manufacturing plant closed in 1985, putting 450 employees out of work. United Solids, a French company, bought the site several years later but never followed through with rehabilitation plans.
In 1997, the giant brick mill building was demolished. Debris piles caused safety concerns for Aiken County officials until Jones bought the site in 2003.
Jones, 73, operates Valley Building Supply, a custom cabinet and wood trim business, from a remaining warehouse while he clears away debris.
On a recent hot June morning, some employees loaded trim into a pickup while another chiseled away at discarded bricks on the other end of the site.
“I actually started cleaning up almost immediately and we’ve been cleaning up ever since,” Jones said. “We’ve hauled off over 300 dump truck loads of scrap wood and debris and bricks and stuff just to clean it up. We’ve got approximately 200 dump truck loads to go.”
In the corner of Jones’ land, thin beams of sunlight penetrate thick kudzu vines casting shadows into a brick building that once gave life to Bath Mill. An aqueduct, also made of brick, likely fed a water wheel that powered the mill, Jones said.
Rickety wooden boards supported by steel beams make up the “power plant” floor, just a few feet above a pond. Jones, who lives in nearby Langley, didn’t know the building was there until someone else stumbled upon it.
“I didn’t know this door was here. I had a man one day who was brave enough to climb through one of those windows. He said there’s a door over there. So I started tearing out the bricks,” he said. “These bricks here were about 8 feet high. I started tearing out the bricks till I got to it.”
Other digging across the site has led Jones to discover underground rooms and tunnels that helped him understand the mill’s layout. Across the pond, Jones can see the brick-outlined opening of a tunnel that’s still a mystery. He’s trying to reach it by rowboat so he can crawl inside.
Standing on a concrete slab that’s the only scrap of the mill’s company store, Jones points out a sycamore tree. Near the tree, the canal carrying water from Horse Creek dips underground to other portions of the mill. He’s eager to scavenge beneath the company store floor to see what else remains hidden.
Wingard said the company store was part of the original paper mill that burned down and would be considered historic if still standing. From examining brick work around the site, it’s evident that building the mill took rigorous, detailed craftsmanship, he said.
Jones has shipped off tractor-trailer loads of original mill brick. Fourteen shipments were delivered to Houston, Texas; a handful to Charleston, S.C.; and one or two each to Virginia, Maryland and Mississippi.
“I never was a history buff until I got to finding this place and finding this stuff. I just got interested in it. Keeps me going,” he said.
Jones’ mother was pulled from school at age 13 to work in Bath Mill, earning $1.50 a week, he said. Many other family members worked at the mill, but Jones didn’t follow in their footsteps.
During his last two years of high school, Jones worked at Clearwater Finishing Plant, a nearby facility that went bankrupt in 1989. He quit as soon as he married, then tried several careers before settling on construction.
Cleaning up Bath Mill has allowed Jones to glimpse life inside the town centerpiece. Former mill workers stop by to see their past livelihoods in brick heaps and share stories with Jones.
“When people come in here and tell me they worked in the weave rooms and different departments, I don’t know what they’re talking about. But it’s still interesting,” he said.
Their tales motivate Jones to preserve the site history. Inside a small administration building, he has photographs from mill baseball teams, samples of cloth, glass soda bottles found buried in rubble and a collection of yarn spools.
Jones has made use of the site for his small business, but he hopes to leave more behind for the town of Bath, which lost not only jobs but also its robust and family oriented community when the mill shut down.
“The last few weeks here, everybody who worked here, when they came in to get their paychecks there were no paychecks,” he said. “This was a major thing in this village. It shut the village down.”
Jones is determined to keep clearing away debris using his backhoe and uncovering more underground secrets as long as his health allows.
“I just want to leave something to the community. I’d love to get the old smokestack restored and dedicate it the community,” he said. “They don’t make those anymore.”
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