(A quick US real estate review)
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I learned this past week that I live in a safe city. I saw it on the internet, so it must be true.

This now officially recognized safe haven is known as Greer, South Carolina, a flung suburb of the very popular city of Greenville, South Carolina (motto: WE’RE FULL. KEEP DRIVING). According to one analysis (there are hundreds), my zip code has been judged one of the twenty safest cities in the state. True, it was number twenty in a list of twenty, but hey – we made the cut.

Well, it’s certainly safe from carpet burns. This place has gotten so crowded that it takes three minutes to fall down. But everything is relative I suppose, even safety. Yes, we have a lower-than-average crime rate, and it’s almost unheard of for someone to be trampled by bison. But it’s not such a safe place if you plan to badmouth barbecue, or confiscate handguns.

In case you’re wondering, the same research gives a nod to the historic city of Edgefield as the safest place to live in South Carolina. This is quite an accomplishment for a town, founded around 1785, that was once known for its HBO-worthy levels of violence and scandal, not to mention its habit of producing state and federally-elected career criminals. Ten of South Carolina’s state governors purportedly came from Edgefield, probably a shady group of guys trying to outrun various statutes of limitation. And over the years, Edgefield has managed to shove seven locals into the US Senate, but we can’t really blame Edgefield alone for that.

(For the record, the worst place to live in South Carolina is a town called Darlington. I know absolutely nothing about Darlington, other than it being home to a NASCAR racetrack … and I know absolutely nothing about NASCAR, other than the fact that it involves loud people sitting around watching other people go round in circles, much like being in a marketing meeting, which I know way too much about.)

The criteria for what makes a place unbearably unlivable were telling … high crime, low incomes, bad schools, and a host of other reasons, ranging from a lack of fine dining to a lack of people with their original teeth. I suppose, to paraphrase Margaret Wolfe Hungerford, real estate is in the eye of the beholder.

Anyway, speaking of Congress (because by definition humor columnists eventually have to), history reminds us that it was a US Congressman from Edgefield SC who in 1856 helped invent the Jerry Springer show. That year, during a heated debate over whether Kansas should be admitted to the Union as a free state or a rock’n’roll band, Congressman Preston S. Brooks (an Edgefield native) literally attacked Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner on the floor of the US Senate.

Using a small cane, Brooks banged on Sumner’s head until Sumner agreed to attend a picnic in Chappaquiddick with Ted Kennedy.  This violent act ultimately resulted in author Herman Wouk deciding to pen the novel, “The Cane Mutiny,” leading historians to question Wouk’s grasp of the English language … not that that would bar any eager guy from running for public office.

Another legendary model citizen from antebellum Edgefield … maybe the most notorious at that time … was a woman of the female persuasion named Becky Cotton. Known (eventually) as “The Devil in Petticoats,” Becky Cotton (nee Rebecca Kennedy) married John Cotton in 1785, and by all accounts they had a happy marriage until sometime around 1794, when she killed him. As one might. As the Edgefield legend goes, Becky’s dad, James, got into some kind of land dispute with three of his neighbors, locally known as Daryl, Big Thud, and the other Darryl. As a counter tactic, James chose to move in with John and Becky, as if he were a college graduate with a lot of tuition loan debt. Lacking a sense of humor, sadly, James’ three neighbors broke in to the Cotton house and shot James to death, since they didn’t have access to a small cane.

According to Becky’s eventual testimony, husband John did nothing to dissuade the invaders (there was a football game on), and Becky never got over it. Thus, one night in 1794, Becky climbed the stairs to the loft where hubby was sleeping, and inserted an axe into his headal area.

The man died instantly. As one might.

Eventually, Becky was tried for murder, but due to her “bewitching beauty,” the all-male jury acquitted her of all charges. This is why women don’t get traffic tickets.

According to local legend, Becky the ultimate bad date whacked at least two other husbands. All in all, if you’re considering moving to South Carolina, consider Florida. Before you pack, learn Spanish.

Just a note before we go: according to the internet, the worst state in the United States to live is Arizona, followed by Texas. Missouri and Nevada tied for third worst. (Imagine what it must be like to equally suck so much that you tie for third.) Nevada has legal prostitution. Who knows – maybe Missouri has prostitutes, too … but they’re unemployed.