Mother Nature Goes Cow Tipping

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling, and the rain was coming down in buckets. It was the kind of night a cow and its carton could get separated.
On Saturday, Aug. 9, something came … unhinged.
In this part of town, trees along nearby ditches let loose of the earth that only covered half their roots, and down they came, crashing into homes and sheds. It was not a night for milk nor beast.
For the past 55 years, the Coburg Cow has stood guard above Savannah Highway. From on high, the cow, she has looked out for West Ashley, been its guardian angel, a mute sentry for more than a half-century.
A hurricane blew her from her perch in 1989, but she clambered back. Citadel cadets have “ridden” her off her screws. And still, she clambered back with a determination that would shrink the copycat and less dedicated “eat mor chikin” cows. That’s because the Coburg Cow is “Better than it has to be.”
But this recent cruel swat from Mother Nature seems to have taken the Coburg Cow’s only friend. Specifically, the large, mostly-Styrofoam chocolate milk carton that has been her only companion for decades, was torn free of its mooring. City of Charleston police saved the toppled milk jug and stored it.
Imagine a Romeo without his Juliet. Bert, no Ernie. Bonnie, hold the Clyde. Salt n’ no Pepa. Imagine a Masters without a Johnson. Simon without his Garfunkel.
OK, scratch that last one; it worked out pretty well, at least for Simon. In other words, some things just go together, like “rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.” So it was with a cow and her carton. How fitting it took a force of nature to drive them apart.
Who would step in? Who would reunite Mark Antony with Cleopatra, much less with Jennifer Lopez? Tristan with Isolde? Scarlett with Rhett? Professional football with L.A.?
Enter Fred Stern, spokesperson for the Borden Dairy Co., which now owns the dairy and the iconic signage.
“We’ve contracted with a local company to fix the sign” and the company remains resolute in its promise to maintain and service it, said Stern. He said dryly that he didn’t know much more than that, adding that the Borden name is now connected to dairies throughout the Southeast and Midwest.
Not exactly Yente the matchmaker bonding Tevye the fiddler’s young Golde to Motel the tailor, but what can you do?
That local company is Roberts and Sons, which first installed the cow sign in 1959, and has worked on it ever since.
But fate nearly intervened, again. Nearly a year ago Roberts and Sons store and workshop caught fire and was nearly consumed entirely from within.
Former County Councilman Fran Roberts, just back from a trip to Michigan to purchase sign-making gear, said his family shop didn’t get back to 100-percent until the final days of July.
“We finally got our certificate of occupancy from the county,” he said; as there were many safety updates that needed to be installed into the building in order to meet new codes and permitting.
Had Roberts, or his sons, not gotten that certificate, there’s no telling if anyone with institutional knowledge of the sign could have been called in.
According to Roberts, either it will be a quick fix, as there are only four bolts that go into the carton, or it could be something trickier. And fix it, he will. Or maybe one of the sons will.
“I won’t know what happened to the carton until I go up there,” said Roberts. “Some reports made mention that the cow started spinning and got too close to the power-pole that’s there.”
Until then, listen at night to wind. If you hear a lonesome moo, it’s probably the lament of a lost cow, lowing in heartbreak.