When we pulled up, unannounced, in front of the Pearl Fryar Topiary Garden, the jovial self-taught tree magician and scrap metal sculptor was sitting in his John Deere tractor. The garden around the modest house where he and his wife live — three unfenced acres thick with more than 300 fantastically shaped plants, trees and shrubs — officially closes at 4 p.m. but Pearl, as everyone calls him, seemed in no hurry to quit telling his story as the afternoon gave way to early evening.
"Butchering trees" is how Fryar describes what he does, but there is a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he says it. More than 40 years ago, the retired factory worker set out to win yard of the month, bestowed by a local garden club in Bishopville, S.C., a small town of about 3,000 residents 50 miles northeast of Columbia, S.C. But he faced several obstacles. First was the false stereotype, still current in the 1980s, that African-Americans didn't maintain the kind of yards that win awards. Second was the fact that Fryar, the son of a sharecropper and a veteran of the Korean War, had never had a garden and knew nothing about how to produce one. What he did have was an empty cornfield, a creative urge to cut things up in order to make something new and determination. Lots of determination.
It was around that time that Fryar saw a plant pruned into a spiral shape at a local nursery. It was his first glimpse of topiary, a word he had never heard before. After a three-minute clipping demonstration by the nursery owner, Fryar was hooked. Could he come by periodically to rummage through the plants thrown out as too ugly, lopsided, sickly, he asked? Sure, he was told. So after working all day at a canning factory, Fryar turned to his garden, often working by flashlight until after midnight. He nursed his rejects back to health and planted, pruned and tied together their branches, slowly producing mounds, spirals, arches and other shapes. A self-taught Michelangelo, he used electric hedge clippers to set free the shapes hiding in each plant.
Walking through the garden today, especially with a cheerful, loquacious Pearl accompanying you on his tractor, means moving through time and a constantly expanding vision. Those earliest rejects became large, rolling hedges, smooth balls and rectangles huddled against each other, surrounding the main garden. His first completed topiary, a holly that now reaches the roof in front of the house, swirls like a verdant soft-serve ice cream. On the south side of the garden, large live oaks are layered like mushrooms. One, representing years of work, is perfectly square. Fryar’s signature tree — a Leyland cypress — took seven years to achieve its iconic fishbone shape. Junipers, some 30-plus feet tall, are often described as a fleet of fantasy ships with carefully rounded sails. Pines also make an appearance. What you won’t see are boxwoods, one of the most common topiary plants. Too susceptible to disease, says Fryar, who eschews all chemicals and uses very little water.
Fryar did eventually win the local garden club’s best yard prize, becoming the first African-American to do so. He more recently received the National Garden Club’s highest Award of Excellence. The median on Bishopville’s main street now boasts a line-up of topiaries in recognition of its most famous citizen, who is also a boon to the local economy. Many of his neighbors have created their own topiaries, with some guidance from Pearl, a trend that makes him quite proud. One of his elegantly shaped junipers holds a permanent place of honor on the South Carolina State Museum grounds. He has been featured on numerous national television shows and in leading national publications. The 2006 documentary “A Man Named Fryar” (available on Netflix and Amazon) only added to his fame. The 10,000-plus people who show up every year include tour buses bearing visitors from Japan, China, Great Britain and beyond.
Visitors also include students from local schools. Fryar’s face lights up when he talks about the youth who visit, especially those who are less-advantaged.
“I want them to look at my garden and see what you can accomplish using what you have,” he says. “Everyone has a talent for something. I tell them never, never let anyone tell you that you can’t do something that you have a passion for or tell you that you should do it the way everyone else does.” Then he adds, flashing that knowing grin, “If I had known what I was doing when I began, I would never have been able to do what I did, the way I did it.”
For Fryar, what began as a way to prove himself to a dubious world has become a life’s passion and a gift open to all, a showcase for his belief in the inherent goodness of people and the importance of accepting and loving one another, bar none. The most moving parts of the garden are the sculptures he creates using scrap metal and found objects. Hidden among the plants, many of the objects bear simple, positive messages like “love” and “hate hurts.”
The last thing visitors see when they leave is Fryar’s parting message, plowed in the ground and eight feet long: “Love Peace + Goodwill.”
Although Fryar still works in his garden, he turns 78 this year and is now pondering how much longer he can keep wielding those heavy clippers. He is looking to the future, with help from his friends. The non-profit Pearl Fryar Topiary Garden Inc. and The Garden Conservancy are working to preserve his garden for future generations. Now might be a good time to go visit, however, while a man named Pearl is still likely to be there to welcome you with a smile and an inspiring story.
IF YOU GO
Pearl Fryar Topiary Garden. 10 a.m.-4 p.m., Tuesday-Saturday year-round, but spring is the best time to visit. Free, but donations accepted. 145 Broad Acres Road, Bishopville, S.C. 803-484-5581, www.pearlfryar.com.
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