I tried to figure out where John Street in Charleston got its name, and wow—it's not straightforward. From what I could dig up, it might trace back to Hector Berenger de Beaufain, a French Huguenot who played a big role in Charleston’s early days. He was the Collector of Customs and helped shape the city’s infrastructure, including founding the Charleston Library Society. He was noted for his benevolence towards all people. His contributions and legacy are honored in the name of the street, which reflects the historical significance of the area.
But here’s the weird part: how does John come out of Hector Berenger de Beaufain? That connection feels like a stretch. Was “John” a nickname? A middle name lost to history? Or maybe someone else entirely got the honor and the Beaufain link is just a coincidence?
There’s a Beaufain Street, which makes perfect sense. But John? I don’t get it. It feels like there’s a missing chapter—some twist in the naming story that didn’t make it into the records. Maybe it was political, or maybe someone just liked the name John better. Who knows? I’m sure there’s more to it, but for now, it’s one of those Charleston mysteries that refuses to give up its secrets.
John Street stretches from Elizabeth to King, its sidewalks echoing the footsteps of centuries. Among its oldest residents stands the Charleston Music Hall, a building whose bones remember steam and soot long before it knew song.
It began in 1850, not as a theater, but as a train station—The Tower Depot, a Gothic Revival marvel designed by Charleston architect Edward C. Jones. He gave it the silhouette of a medieval castle, complete with turrets, pointed arch niches, and simulated arrow slots, as if yeomen might still be quartered in the tower, ready to defend it from assault. Yet beneath the romantic flourishes lay Renaissance symmetry and industrial purpose. The entrance was wide enough to admit a train. And it did.
The depot was part of a sprawling complex known as Camden Depot, stretching from Line to Hutson Street between King and Meeting. Freight depots, warehouses, and repair shops buzzed with the rhythm of the South Carolina Railroad. But the Tower Depot’s tenure was brief. By 1853, the passenger station had closed, its grand ambitions derailed.
After the Civil War, the building changed hands. On February 6, 1878, the Charleston Bagging Manufacturing Company took ownership. Then came the earthquake of 1886. The three-story tower collapsed, and most of the structure was torn down. What remained was used for storage—silent, utilitarian, forgotten.
The Bagging Company folded during the Great Depression. The building passed to the Chicco family and sat vacant for sixty years, its windows dark, its doors sealed against time. Yet the architecture endured. The turrets, the sunken panels, the heavy doors—they waited.
In 1994, the Bennett-Hofford Company stepped in. Restoration began, not just of brick and mortar, but of purpose. By 1995, the Charleston Music Hall reopened, reborn as a venue for performance and memory. The renovation honored its Gothic soul while adapting it for modern acoustics, flexible seating, and the pulse of live art.
Today, the Music Hall is a cultural anchor in downtown Charleston. Indie bands, classical ensembles, comedians, and filmmakers all find a stage beneath its vaulted ceilings. David Byrne and Joan Baez have performed here. In 2003, bluegrass legend Ricky Scaggs recorded a Grammy-winning live album within its walls.
Restaurant alley next to Music Hall and Rue de Jean
Surrounded by hotels and restaurants, the hall hums with life. But if you listen closely, beneath the applause and laughter, you might still hear the echo of a train whistle—or the creak of a turret door swinging open to the past.
20 South Battery sits in one of the most visited areas of Charleston. Hundreds of picture-taking tourists stroll past its black wrought-iron fences and broad porches daily. Caravans of horse-drawn carriages filled with visitors pause in front of it every day, while animated guides mesmerize them with stories that explain the mystique and grandeur oozing from its windows and doors. Cataclysms of the destructive kind have befallen it. Owners have showered it with renovations. Its place of abidance is its name: 20 South Battery.
As you view the house today, standing on the fringes of White Point Gardens, it is difficult to imagine that when first built, it had a front-row view of Charleston Harbor. The year was 1843. The builder was broker Samuel N. Stevens. The main home and carriage house reflected the prosperity prevalent in South Carolina during that era.
During the Civil War, the house survived the longest bombardment of a civilian population in the history of warfare. Though severely battered, the structure remained intact. Colonel Lathers of the Union Army purchased the property in 1870. He hired John Henry Devereaux, a well-known Charleston architect, to renovate the house in the New York fashion of the time. A mansard roof was added, which housed a library. A new ballroom was also constructed. William Cohen Bryant, one of the most famous American poets ever, stayed there in 1872.
Then...
The Simonds family purchased and lived in the house until 1912. In the 1920s, the rear outbuilding was converted into a “motor court” by the Pringle family, and the once-private residence became a more recognizable place of hospitality. Its newly rentable rooms, for the most part, catered to a patronage of rowdy, carousing sailors of the United States Navy—and, during the 1960s, to college students.
Then...
Famous Charlestonian Drayton Hastie and his wife purchased 20 South Battery in the 1980s and restored it as a Charleston Historic District hotel. The main house became the Hasties’ private residence, and they opened the rooms in the carriage house to guests. The well-known Battery Carriage House Inn came to host a clientele of more than just paying guests. Over the ensuing years, the inn would become known as the most haunted hotel in downtown Charleston.
Reportedly, it’s home to several ghosts. While the owners have never seen the otherworldly inhabitants themselves, guests and employees have had some odd encounters. Curiosity seekers brought all kinds of equipment—light meters, heat sensors, and cameras—hoping to catch a glimpse of something out of the ordinary.
Room 3 is known for a couple’s cellphone waking them with a loud, inexplicable noise, despite being powered off. They also witnessed glowing shapes floating about the room during their stay. Room 8 is considered the most ominous. One visitor was awakened by a disturbance and confronted by a headless torso. He reached out to touch the lumbering spirit, only to recoil when it let out an animalistic growl—odd, considering it had no head, and thus no mouth.
Illustration
Room 10 is occupied by the Gentleman Ghost, known for graciously sharing his room with any and all comers. He is described as a grayish shadow, of average height and build, who glides about the room with a certain stylish flair. He’s even been known to recline in bed with patrons—minus any hanky-panky.
Hurricane Hugo struck on September 21, 1989, producing the highest storm tides ever recorded on the East Coast and causing catastrophic damage to homes along the water—20 South Battery included. Yet the house endured, continuing to be a favorite haunting stop for walking tours and horse-drawn carriages. The stories persisted, and its haunted reputation only grew.
Now...
Dr. Jack Schaeffer purchased the inn in 2018 with passion and a clear intent to restore and maintain its historical integrity. The property has undergone extensive preservation efforts—a labor of love that revitalized it to its former grandeur. On September 10, 2020, Dr. Schaeffer and his staff unveiled the 20 South Battery Hotel to their first guests.
The luxury boutique hotel houses unique and rare antiques from around the world and across various time periods, some dating back to the 1500s. The Grand Ballroom features gold leaf trim surrounding a metal-tile ceiling with a skylight and crystal chandeliers. The Grand Parlor showcases bright red antique furniture that contrasts strikingly with the white walls. A spiral staircase ascends all four stories of the home. One of the oldest pieces in the house is the decorative handrail. The original Italian mosaic tile flooring was restored piece by piece. Crown molding and marble fireplaces are unique to each space. Metal-tile ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and antique sconces are also common elements throughout the home.
The Concierge Level in the mansion features the Lathers, Pringles, and Simonds Suites. The Stevens Suite is located on the ground floor and faces White Point Gardens. The Devereux Suite occupies the former cistern and wine cellar. The Blacklock-Ravenel King Room is located on the first floor. The Battery Carriage House offers suites on the first floor and rooms on the second. Originally built as a private residence for $4,500, the property was listed by Handsome Properties in 2017 for $4,250,000. It is worth far more today.
Dr. Jack Schaeffer has clearly embraced the stories that have become part of his beautiful hotel. He seems to know them well, as seen in the following video by CountOn2.
Just how the apparitions feel about their upgraded surroundings, you will have to reserve one of the rooms and ask them. The headless torso may be speechless for obvious reasons.
Enjoy the Ghostbuster Package-Prepare for a Ghostly Adventure at 20 South Battery and Charleston! Built in 1843, 20 South Battery has seen its share of reported friendly ghost encounters. This experience is for you if "You ain't afraid of no ghost!"
PACKAGE INCLUDES: Ghosts of Charleston" Souvenir Book; written by Julian Buxton at Buxton Books. 20 South Battery's own Rooms 8 and 10 are spoken about in this book!
2 Tickets to a Walking Ghost Tour with their friends at Buxton Books.
Just outside Seattle rises the iconic Mount Rainier, dominating the city’s panorama. To its south stands Mount St. Helens. These two peaks are part of the Cascade Range and the Ring of Fire, which stretches from British Columbia to California. The range earned its name from European explorers, inspired by its many waterfalls. Together, volcanic activity and abundant forests make the Cascades a dramatic landscape of fire and ice—an ideal setting for challenging hiking trails.
One such trail is the Iron Goat Trail, located in Stevens Pass near Gold Bar. Its name comes from the Great Northern Railway’s corporate symbol: a mountain goat standing on a rock. Built along the former railway grade, the Iron Goat Trail officially opened to hikers on October 2, 1993. There are three trailheads: the Scenic, the Martin Creek, and the Wellington. We chose the Martin Creek. The Martin Creek Trailhead consists of an Upper Grade Trail and a Lower Grade Trail totaling 6 miles, both with a gentle 2.2 percent incline. The trail marks the site of one of America’s most tragic train disasters—the 1910 Wellington Disaster.
In the early 1900s, the Great Northern Railway constructed a system of tunnels and massive concrete snow sheds through the mountains of Stevens Pass, connecting the route to Seattle. In the winter of 1910, Washington State’s Cascade Mountain Range was struck by an unusually long blizzard. Previous clear-cutting and forest fires had stripped the slopes above the tracks, creating ideal conditions for an avalanche.
On March 1, 1910, following the nine-day blizzard, rain and an electrical storm besieged the Seattle Express No. 25 and the Fast Mail No. 27 trains, which had been forced to stop en route to Seattle. The winds, thunder, and lightning threatened the stability of the varied layers of snow on the mountainside. Either thunder or lightning triggered a break in the integrity of the heavy top slab of snow; as the weaker layers below gave way, the enormous slab began to slide down the slope, carrying everything in its path. The avalanche hurled both trains 150 feet down into the Tye River Valley, where the cars were buried in snow and debris. Ninety-six people died—thirty-five passengers and sixty-one railroad employees.
The Iron Goat Trail commemorates the construction of the railway and memorializes the disaster that occurred on its mountainside. Retaining walls, culverts, bridges, and waterbars were built, along with spur trails connecting the upper and lower paths, making this history accessible to intrepid hikers and their cameras. You can walk alongside the aging, massive two-mile-long concrete walls where thick-timbered snow sheds once covered the tracks, shielding trains from falling rocks and debris. Connecting these sections of wall, long tunnels were blasted through the mountain to allow trains to pass. You can stand at the tunnel openings, feel the exiting cool air, peer into the darkness, and wonder what remains inside. For your safety, however, entering the tunnels is strongly discouraged—bears and pumas inhabit the mountains.
The scenery along the Iron Goat Trail is stunning, the history intriguing, and the hike challenging—especially the spur near the Windy Mountain Tunnel, where the trail narrows and steep drop-offs demand caution. As you walk, stay alert: remnants of the avalanche, old buildings, and fragments of train cars lie hidden among the rocks and underbrush that has grown since 1910. A parking area with facilities and a museum marks the beginning of your journey. Enjoy the rugged beauty of Stevens Pass and the majestic Cascades near Seattle.
Take Highway 2 toward Stevens Pass, to milepost 55. Turn left onto the Old Cascade Highway. At the junction with FR 6710, take a sharp left onto FR 6710. In 1.4 miles reach the trailhead.
Lighthouses are mystical sentinels, charged with a singular purpose: to guide passing ships through treacherous waters into safe harbors. They stand in solitude, often perched on remote cliffs amid hostile environments. They emanate a haunting splendor and evoke fascination through the many stories told by the men and women who lived the keeper’s life.
The beautiful California coastline is dominated by towering cliffs and rocky shores. Navigating the Pacific Ocean’s treacherous surf along its jagged shoreline was a formidable challenge for mariners. Point Sur Lightstation in Big Sur is one of those mystical sentinels, commissioned to guide the state's merchant traffic safely to their destination.
Point Sur Lightstation is literally located on a solitary 361-foot volcanic rock connected to the Big Sur coast by a short strip of sandy land and rocks. Money was allocated for Point Sur in 1886 to build the light station. Three years later, on August 1, 1889, the light station keys were turned over to the first keeper. He and three assistants staffed the lighthouse and fog signal 24 hours a day.
The four keepers and their families lived an isolated life. The trail to Monterey was long and often treacherous, so trips were rare. The U.S. Lighthouse Service provided a horse and wagon to get mail and supplies from Pfeiffer's Resort. Each family was allotted a garden area for fresh vegetables. Bulk supplies such as coal, firewood, animal feed, and some food came on a lighthouse tender' about every four months. One function of these long, broad ships was to service remote light stations inaccessible by land.
Like most remote lightstations, Point Sur was very self-sufficient. As the years passed, life became increasingly less isolated at Point Sur, specially following the completion of Highway 1 in 1937. Two years later, the U.S. Coast Guard assumed responsibility for all aids-to-navigation. Lighthouse Service employees were absorbed into the new program and allowed to become either members of the U.S. Coast Guard or remain civil service employees.
In the 1960s, the U.S. Coast Guard began automating lightstations in an effort to make more efficient use of their personnel. In 1974, the last keeper left Point Sur. Today a U.S. Coast Guard crew services the lighthouse regularly.
The Point Sur Lightstation originally contained a first-order Fresnel lens. Light from Point Sur's Fresnel lens was visible for 23 nautical miles. The lens was in use until the 1970s when it was replaced by a modern aero beacon mounted on the roof of the fog signal room. The lens remained in the lighthouse tower until 1978, when it was disassembled and transported to the Allen Knight Maritime Museum of Monterey for display. The aero beacon was later moved into the lighthouse tower. The aero beacon was eventually replaced by an LED light presently mounted on the outside rail of the lighthouse and flashes every 15 seconds.
The tour operates on a first-come, first-served basis. Admission is $20 for adults. Visitors enter through a gate on Highway 1, opened by one of the tour guides. The view of the massive, distant rock crowned by the light station is spectacular. After passing through the gate, you drive down a long road flanked by a beach on one side and rocky terrain on the other, arriving at the base of the rock where you park your car. The guide begins the tour here and, following opening remarks, leads the group up the winding road that ascends the rock, stopping at select locations to discuss its construction and share stories of its formidable history.
On the ocean side of the rock, the road splits—one branch leading to the lightstation complex atop the summit, the other crossing a bridge to the lighthouse perched on the edge. The lighthouse was our first stop. As we stood beneath the towering beacon near its entrance, overlooking the ocean crashing far below against rocks teeming with barking seals, the guide described the light keeper’s duties and the operation of the Fresnel lens. We entered and ascended the circular staircase to the lantern room, where we gathered for more historical insight, then stepped onto the lantern deck outside for a sweeping 360-degree view from the top. After descending and exiting, we entered an adjoining building that housed a museum.
We then followed the guide up a long stairway to the summit, where we found a large barn, a building filled with carpenter tools and a blacksmith shop, a water tower, a garden area, and two houses—one for the keeper and his family, and the other, larger house for his three assistants and their families. We toured the keeper’s residence but did not enter the assistants’ quarters. The guide informed us that the assistants’ house was haunted, and that every Halloween it is decorated and opened to the public for a good scare. The lightstation is also one of the best places to view the whale migrations, which include the giant blue whale at 110 feet. After paying the $20 in the gift shop, we descended the long road back to our cars.
The tour’s history is intriguing, and the panoramic views from both the lighthouse and the summit complex are spectacular. The ascent up the 361-foot rock is challenging—best suited for the sure-footed and hearty—but well worth the effort. The guides are personable and informative. The tour lasts three hours and is packed with rich detail. The light station embodies everything one might expect from a California lighthouse. The gray, cement-blocked lighthouse structure exudes a mystical presence, and the surrounding complex carries a haunting allure.
Points of interest:
Notable shipwreck - Ventura 1875. Notable wreck - the dirigible U.S.S. Macon crashed and sank.
Admission:
Adults - $20, Ages 6-17 - $10, Ages 5 and under free.
Moonlight Tours - $30
Halloween Tour - October 18 and October 25, 2025 at 5:30pm
