It’s an Orangeburg success story. In 1931 Laverne “Red” (bright red) Brewington, 11 years old, decided he wanted to earn some spending money. With his mother’s permission he walked from their big frame house on Amelia Street, three blocks uptown, through the “naked lady plaza,” and across to Belk-Hudson on Russell.

Upstairs on the balcony office, he asked to see Mr. E.O. Hudson, store manager, also his former Sunday School teacher.

“Mr. Hudson,” the words came hard, “I was wondering ... if you had a job here I could do, maybe after school, or on Saturdays.” That ended the speech; he could not think of anything else.

The store manager had him sit down, tell about himself, his school and what tasks he might be able to do. A half hour later he was employed as a Saturday, all-purpose assistant for running errands and light janitorial chores. The $1.40 pay sounded enormous.

Forty-seven years later, he retired as vice president of the 22-store chain Belk-Hudson had grown into. His promotions included men’s department clerk, department manager, shoe and men’s departments manager, store manager and eventually vice president. In his last two decades he developed most of their new stores in South Carolina, North Carolina, Georgia and Florida.

Not by a long shot

This isn’t all of Red’s story. Not by a long shot. He had also found time to start, learn and become an expert in at least four avocations, and enjoy them for a half century.

First came ballroom dancing. Some of Orangeburg’s most attractive high school damsels lived in old houses on Amelia. Claudia Ann, Caroline, Bessie and others had taken tap, ballet and ballroom from “Miss Isobel” or “Miss Mary Dell” or “Miss Margie.” Many evenings they practiced to the recorded tunes of Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman. Needing partners, they invited Red and other boys from school to come over and jitterbug or shag. Red didn’t know one from the other but gradually learned the latest American terpsichory.

On his first buying trip to New York in 1941 (just before WWII service), he experienced a “high,” staying at the Piccadilly Hotel; $3.40 a day, and another, visiting the Mecca, “Dance Land.” He even talked the instructor into coming to his hotel and giving him four private lessons.

This proved to be not his only new adventure. At home he often visited Juanita and John Hutchins next door. Avid Contract Bridge Players, they invited Red to sit and watch the progressions. He loved it, and before long was filling in for any fourth who could not come.

Wings over the Atlantic

Life looked promising; 10 years at the store under Mr. Hudson had taught him a college degree’s worth of retailing and supervising, also, had elevated him to assistant men’s department manager. Nevertheless, he knew a draft notice could come from the local board any day. Searching for a branch that had appeal, he grew interested in the Naval Air Corps. Living on a ship and flying looked far better than digging foxholes and marching. He enlisted in 1943, and got orders to report to Navy preflight school in Austin, Texas at the university. Twelve weeks there, then he trained another 12 at the University of Georgia in Athens. Flight school came at last, four months of it at the Pensacola Naval Training Station.

Finally, he welcomed active duty patrolling the South Atlantic between Natal on the hump of Brazil and Ascension Island in the center of the ocean. For six months he piloted a search plane, holding his eyes on the vast wavelets and white caps. “I did spot a German submarine once; I think they saw me too because they disappeared under the water fast. My last six months before Japan surrendered placed me in Norfolk as an instructor at the base there.”

His rank of lieutenant junior grade did not tempt him to stay in; he was good and ready to get back to the merchandising world. After accepting a promotion as store manager, he soon began working on Mr. Hudson’s plan to develop more stores. One had already been started in Walterboro. The second was in 1948 in Waynesville, N.C. By 1950 he was totally involved in setting up and guiding these businesses. Occasionally, he moved to the towns to supervise for a few months.

“Once a store was equipped and opened, our biggest challenge was teaching untrained people the discipline required to please customers,” Red says. “It wasn’t easy then and it still isn’t.”

More activities; lots more

“Meanwhile I had joined the old Elks Club on the plaza and loved their frequent dances. Lots of returning vets did. And for another pastime I began playing golf. All during high school I had yearned to go out to the tennis courts and hit balls in the afternoon, but work prevented it.

“The week after I came back, some old friends asked me out to play on the holes at the Country Club. What a sport! I learned the game partnering with Mitt Jeffords Sr., T.B. Fersner, G.W. Dukes, Dr. Jim Albergotti and Lipman Rich. I never missed a Wednesday or Sunday afternoon.

“Fortunately, bridge games were at night. To improve, I had lessons from Mrs. Ann Yates, an accomplished player, who took me to Columbia for games in the American Contract Bridge League.

“In 1965, just to get a few days, I took a Caribbean cruise. But not from bridge or dancing. The ship offered both in abundance. The next year I organized and conducted my own cruise. Most of the groups were Orangeburgers. We had highlight after highlight stopping in ports in Italy, France and Spain, seeing world-famous cities and dining on elegant food.

“During many years of cruises to all the continents, my number one favorite was Thailand and the fairy tale city of Bangkok. ... It’s a fabulous and unworldly place.”

Somehow, Red found time for extensive civic work, serving on The Regional Medical Center board for 19 years and the foundation board at Orangeburg-Calhoun Technical College for 23 years. In following years he was president of the Country Club of Orangeburg and board chairman of both the Bank of America and chamber of commerce. In 2,000, Orangeburg City Council awarded him the Edisto Award for Service to the Community. And there were numerous other awards.

Today, a knee condition and poor sight have eliminated most of Red’s community work. He moved into The Methodist Oaks two years ago but in no time was teaching a bridge class. “It’s hard to quit. But if I died tomorrow, I’d die happy. I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do,” he says.

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