Charleston Time Machine

Frustrated by years of neglect and contrary government, the citizens of South Carolina asserted their political will in the closing months of 1719 by organizing a rebellious confederacy that descended on Charleston to seize the reins of power. It was a contest enacted exclusively by white men, but the outcome affected the entire population of the faltering colony. Today we’ll follow the chain of e...

South Carolina was an English colony for its first century, but that era was marked by two contrasting periods characterized by different administrations: An initial “proprietary” era gave way to a “royal” government after a rebellion in 1719. To help us appreciate the impact of that uprising, let’s compare the two forms of colonial oversight that motivated one of the most important incidents in o...

Here in Charleston, we share a number of Christmas customs with communities near and far, but how deep are the Lowcountry roots of our modern holiday traditions? Today we’ll examine a few historic holiday anecdotes that are sure to please and might even serve as morsels of polite dinner conversation during the upcoming Christmas season.

Shade-tree history is on my mind this Arbor Day. While some people want to uproot the grand oaks bordering our scenic highways, others have defended the venerable trees from the ravages of modernity. The moss-draped canopy they provide isn’t just picturesque; it’s the manifestation of an ancient law rooted in protecting travelers from highway robbers in Medieval England.

The area called Harleston Village is one of the oldest neighborhoods on the Charleston peninsula, but the present definition of its boundaries differs from its original identity. From colonial grant to bucolic pasture to profitable subdivision, Harleston was annexed into urban Charleston in 1770 and evolved into a desirable address, though it was never technically a village.

Charleston’s newest library is nestled in a quiet setting that belies the depth and drama of its long history. From Native-American stomping grounds to fertile plantation, from bloody battlefield, to civil rights success, today we’ll surf through the pages of the past to follow a rich narrative that forms an important part our community’s shared history.

Veterans Day is a holiday created in the twentieth century, but its roots date back to the dawn of the United States. Today we’ll use the story of one veteran’s family—the wife and children of the famous Sergeant William Jasper—to trace the evolution of local, state, and national efforts to assist the survivors our nation’s brave defenders.

Thomas J. Mackey did not shoot the sheriff, but he shot at him during a meeting of Charleston’s City Council in October 1869. The community condemned the morphine-fueled assault, but justice was not served. In the turbulent world of Reconstruction-era politics, it was easier to sweep a violent assault under the proverbial rug than to disrupt the status quo.

Debate within Charleston’s City Council is sometimes harsh, but never as acrimonious as the night in 1869 when arguing aldermen drew pistols to settle a dispute. We’ll begin this real-life tale of drugs, liquor, bullets, and rage by profiling the elected gunmen, uncovering the roots of their disagreement, and following the scene of mayhem at City Hall.

Hampstead Village is a downtown neighborhood better known today as the heart of Charleston’s “East Side.” Created in 1769, it has endured a series of ups and downs that transformed it into Charleston’s most diverse and densely populated neighborhood. To better understand its challenges and potential, let’s review Hampstead’s history and its long struggle for dignity and survival.

The mayor of Charleston is a prestigious officer who commands respect throughout our community, but that hasn’t always been the case. Nearly two centuries ago, the city’s executive evolved from a nearly powerless, part-time, unsalaried intendant, to a powerful, full-time, salaried mayor. Today we’ll compare and contrast those titles and trace the gradual accretion of powers that define 21st-centur...

Sentenced to hang in 1747, Elizabeth McQueen cried out for mercy from the Charleston jail. Her personal grief and Indian customs had been misrepresented as willful murder. Reviewing the facts of her case, the governor and his advisors were drawn into the chasm between patriarchal law and the realities of a woman’s life on the colonial frontier.

Accused of having murdered her newborn child, Elizabeth McQueen was arrested and transported to Charleston to stand trial in 1747. Contemporary documents allow us to reconstruct many of the experiences she endured, from incarceration within the prison under the care of a hot-tempered marshal, to the colony’s makeshift courtroom in a tavern where a brief trial condemned her to an ignominious death.

When an unmarried young woman of Native American ancestry lost a newborn child in 1747, her white neighbors on the South Carolina frontier interpreted her grief as a mask for clandestine guilt and summoned the law. Today we’ll begin to reconstruct the story of Elizabeth McQueen’s journey from “innocence and sobriety” to arrest, humiliation, and incarceration in colonial Charleston.

Charleston was once the most active marketplace for enslaved people in North America. While incoming Africans were sold from the vessels that brought them, enslaved people already living in the Lowcountry during the colonial era were commonly sold at at a long-forgotten, open-air auction site within the heart of Charleston known as “the usual place.”

The arrival of more than 150,000 African captives before 1808 forms one of the most important themes in Charleston’s history, but there are many details about this traffic that remain obscure. To acknowledge the suffering and legacy of those people, many people wish to retrace their first footsteps here. But where did they stand when they were sold into a life of slavery in Charleston?

Indigo forms an important part of the early history of the South Carolina Lowcountry. Although its memory flourishes today, lingering misconceptions have distorted our general understanding of the story. In an effort to help “grow” this colorful conversation, I’ve crafted a series of questions and responses that address some points of indigo history that every Charlestonian should know.

For the anniversary of the incorporation of Charleston, let’s take a close look at the legal document that defined the new municipality. Our focus isn’t politics, but spelling: The city’s 1783 charter shortened its name from “Charles Town,” and the surviving manuscript contains a curious spelling that provides new insight in the evolution of the familiar name “Charleston.”

Reeling from embarrassment after rioting spoiled an afternoon of baseball on Citadel Green, the divided people of Charleston anxiously prepared for a rematch against the Savannah Base Ball Club in August of 1869. The mayor’s show of force inflamed simmering tensions, and boiling frustration led to gunfire while the people hoped in vain for a quiet weekend of sport.

Baseball was a novelty in the summer of 1869. Charlestonians had only recently embraced the game, which provided a relaxing way to escape the city’s tense political climate. When sport, music, and racial politics collided on Citadel Green on July 26th, the pastime erupted into a violent clash that spilled into the streets and threatened to overwhelm the rule of law.

In the early months of 1869, the people of Charleston swooned rapturously over the arrival of the latest mechanical sensation called the velocipede, a precursor to the modern bicycle. Having embraced the new machine in mid-February, the city’s initial enthusiasm for the velocipede was overshadowed several months later by another fad that went on to spoil everyone’s summer fun.

In a short span of time during an international war, the S.C. legislature enacted a succession of laws related to the policing of urban Charleston. It was a confusing period of law enforcement experimentation during a crucial era in the town’s history, in which the colony first achieved a black majority, and produced the earliest evidence of enslaved drummers in Charleston.

Every 4th of July, our nation celebrates the anniversary of the ratification of the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia in 1776. Here in Charleston, we gather on this date each year to commemorate a grand event that is less-well remembered—the first publication of the Declaration in the capital city of South Carolina on August 5th, 1776.

In 2018, the Palmetto Society invited me to deliver a speech at White Point Garden to commemorate the 242nd anniversary of the Battle of Sullivan’s Island, which took place on the 28th of June, 1776. For this year’s celebration of that historic day, long known as Carolina Day, I’d like to share the text of that speech in the hopes that people unfamiliar with the event might draw inspiration from t...

The site of CCPL’s newest branch has a rich but invisible history. Formerly occupied by Native Americans, the land was controlled by a succession of owners who grew rich from the labors of generations of enslaved people. From forest land in the 20th century to modern suburban development, the land under the Wando Mount Pleasant library holds quite a story.