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The story below isn't of a ghost, but of an occurance strange enough to be here. This is a story of historical fact.  If you've ever been through Screven County, Georgia on Hwy 301 toward South Carolina you've been through Jacksonborough, though you probably never new it. Jacksonborough was once the county seat of Screven. That was before Lorenzo Dow came to town.
Like many travelling preachers of that day, Lorenzo Dow often counted on the hospitality of those in the towns he ministered to. When he walked the dusty road into Jacksonborough he expected the fine Southern hospitatlity he had seen so many times before in such sleepy little towns. Instead he found that the townspeople were quite rude. Everyone he met greeted him with cold stares and abusive words. Everyone except Seaborn Goodall.
Seaborn was a respected member of the community, and when he saw the well-meaning stranger treated so badly by his neighbors he quickly made an introduction and invited Lorenzo to stay in his home as his guest while in town. Lorenzo was grateful for the offer. His journey had been long and he needed a meal and some rest. Plus, he now saw some hope in ministering to this town. After all, if this man could be so kind there must be others here like him. He was pleased that his first sermon drew a healthy crowd. Only when he began to speak did he realize that few came to hear preaching. What started as slight heckling grew into a roar of harsh words and laughing. The majority of the men were clearly drunk and Lorenzo soon feared that the crowd may get out of hand. It wasn't long before the shouts ordered him out of the town. He readily obliged. As he crossed the bridge out of town with the mob behind him, he turned and spoke the last words he would ever speak to the people of Jacksonborough. He shook the dust of the town from his feet and prayed a curse on the town, that no business would prosper, that no home would stand in that town forever, except the home of the one kind soul he found in Seaborn Goodall. The words he spoke were laughed off by the people, but not for long. Mysterious fires began to spring up around the homes and businesses of the town. Stores that once prospered could no longer make ends come together. Local merchants were forced to close shop, and since homes were beginning to literally fall to the ground most people were forced to move. The county seat was forced to move to Sylvania since no building could hold an office without soon being destroyed by some disaster. There were floods from the usually quiet creek, that tore down foundations, mysterious winds that blew so strong as to rip the roofs from the buildings. At the end of it all, every single building in the town was gone. Even the ones which were rebuilt had quickly fallen again. There was nothing left except the bridge, the road, and the home of Seaborn Goodall. Through it all, his home stood solid, always unburned by the fires, undamaged by the storms and floods. The events above happened in 1847. Even as recently as the past few years businesses have attempted to move into the old town of Jacksonborough. It's right on highway 301 which is heavily travelled. Not a single one remains. Through it all, the Goodall house still stands. Even though it was completely neglected for years and left to fall, it stands strong. It was recently adopted by the Brier Creek chapter of the DAR. You can arrange a tour when your in town. See more about it here. |
