The Strange Story of John Street--Home to the Charleston Music Hall

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.

Charleston Music Hall Event Schedule