Coty, as his friends called him, was born in 1746 in Charleston, S.C. and he roamed the earth for 79 years. He studied at England’s Oxford University and at a military academy in France. In 1769 he opened a law practice in his hometown only to realize that there were no ambulances to chase (they hadn’t been invented) nor asbestos class action lawsuits to file so he dropped law in favor of the American Revolution fervor.
Coty became an officer in the Continental Army and ultimately an aide to General George Washington. He was responsible for keeping termites off of George’s chompers.
Pinckney was captured by the British in 1780 but rebuffed their urgings to become a turncoat purportedly saying, “If I had a vein that did not beat with the love of my country I myself would open it. If I had a drop of blood that could flow dishonorably, I myself would let it out.”
Huh? Nobody speaks like. This sounds like historical glorification. My bet is that knicker-clad man said, “The first country to invent long pants has my allegiance.”
Having bored is captures to sleep with his babble, Pinckney escaped. In 1787 he was named South Carolina’s delegate to the Federal Constitutional Convention. There are rumors that after a night of boozy carousing on the streets of Philadelphia, he and Ben Franklin attempted to steal a bell. It cracked when they dropped it and the pair ran off into the night, wigs flapping in the wind.
In 1796 Washington did what most leaders do when they tire of hangers on like Pinckney, they appoint them as foreign envoys. Pinckney was shipped to France where he was caught up in the XYZ Affair. Despite its spicy sounding label, this wasn’t a ménage e trios with women named Michelle and Suzette. Rather, the French wanted bribes for their cooperation. Pinckney, however, was broke having spent all his francs on a real threesome the prior night. He was shipped back to the states.
Pinckney was a two-time loser as a political candidate running to no success for vice president in 1800 and president in 1804. That is about where the history books stopped covering him.
So there you have it. Our town is named after a man of marginal acclaim. It was so disheartening to learn this that I decided I had to speak with Coty directly to find out if there was more to the man than what history recorded. But how to do so?
If it was the 1990s, I would have called the Psychic Hotline and spoke with Miss Cleo, but today I’d need a psychic even to find her. Then I realized that the spirit of Pinckney appears in our town each Mardi Gras. I saw him checking out skirts at the queen pageant a few weeks ago and he is slated to walk in Saturday’s parade. So I called on him and he agreed to meet me in the shadows between the Eagles and the Moose. Here was our exchange:
The Post: Thanks for agreeing to see me.
Pinckney: Let’s make this quick. I have Michelle waiting for me at the Moose and Suzette at the Eagles.
The Post: I see you are wearing a Head East t-shirt. Are you a fan?
Pinckney: Are you kidding? Back in the day they were the biggest thing to hit the scene since Francis Scott Key.
The Post: What are your thoughts that this town is named after you?
Pinckney: It confirms the rumor that good ditch weed grows in these parts.
The Post: Still, it is an honor, right?
Pinckney: The reason I like is that my cousin, Charles Pinckney and the former governor of South Carolina, thinks the town was named after him. It makes for lively debate during holiday gatherings.
The Post: You have been appearing here since the spirit of Colonel Pinckney was summoned by the town in 1953. What do you think about Pinckneyville?
Pinckney: As a historical figure, I like the town’s respect for the past. In the 57 years I have been coming here, little has changed. The town seems to resist moving forward.
The Post: So are you ready to walk in this year’s parade?
Pinckney: That is not me, it is a body double. I’ll be holed up in room 4E at the Main Street Inn with my friends Michelle, Suzette and Jim Beam. Speaking of them, I gotta go. These babes are so hot they will flip you wig.
So there you have it. Aside from his failures as a politician, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney was a drunken womanizer. I have new found pride for my community.