Summerville, August 31, 1886--A Haunting Tale Amidst an Earth-Shattering Cataclysm

The day’s oppressive humidity lingered, even at this late hour. Lost in thought, I found myself reflecting on the troubling peculiarities that had unfolded. There was a strange quiet—not among the people I’d encountered, but in the behavior of the animals. The usual chatter of local birds had vanished. In fact, I couldn’t recall seeing a single bird all day. The carriage horses had been unusually skittish, and even the dog at the train depot seemed unnerved.

A sharp blast from the train whistle jolted me from my reverie, signaling the final call for departure. A cloud of hot steam billowed into the air as the locomotive lurched forward, then gradually eased away from the platform. The final leg of my journey had begun.

I checked my pocket watch: 8:50 p.m. Charleston lay ahead, with an expected arrival around 10:30. I had been looking forward to my stay at the elegant Charleston Hotel on Meeting Street with eager anticipation.

As a writer and publisher, I enjoyed certain privileges when it came to reading material. In my possession was a cherished collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s works. Settling into my seat as we pulled away from Branchville, I recalled that Poe had once been stationed on Sullivan’s Island, a barrier island near Charleston. I planned to visit several places tied to his legacy—Fort Moultrie, and the war-scarred plantations along the oak-lined Ashley River Road. Runnymede, in particular, had been a favorite haunt of his.

I peered out the window and stared at the passing trees. Moonlight filtered through their branches, casting a soft, dancing glow onto the low-growing bushes. The visual effect was as shadowy as the writings I was about to immerse myself into. The rhythmic clickety-clack of the heavy steel wheels rolling over the tracks informed me that the train had reached full throttle. Around me, some passengers had drifted into sleep, while others quietly read—much too late for conversation. I flipped open the cover of the dossier resting on my lap and began reading The Gold-Bug. For an unknown length of time, I slipped into the reality that was Poe.

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the train, jolting me from my seat. For a brief, surreal moment, I felt weightless—levitating above the cushion—before crashing down with a spine-jarring thud. The violent motion repeated again and again, each impact more disorienting than the last.

Piercing screams erupted from the compartment as passengers were tossed about, helpless against the chaos. An ungodly hissing sound accompanied the relentless jolts—up and down, back and forth—like a beast thrashing in its death throes. Through the window, I glimpsed a geyser of water erupting from the earth, shooting skyward. The train’s forward momentum sputtered violently. I sensed the engineer was desperately trying to slow us, but the effort seemed futile. Prayers filled the air, whispered and shouted alike.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the upheaval ceased.

Miraculously, the train remained on the tracks. Dazed passengers began to assess their condition. Aside from bruises and shaken nerves, it appeared no one was seriously injured. Another sudden jolt startled the already traumatized group—but this time, it was the familiar lurch of a train decelerating. We crept to a halt.

I retrieved my pocket watch, its glass shattered, the hands frozen at 9:50 p.m. Around me, pages from Poe’s dossier lay scattered like fallen leaves. I gathered them up and stepped off the train.

An eerie orange glow bathed the night sky. Fires burned in the distance, and uprooted trees lay strewn across the landscape like discarded matchsticks. Ahead of the smoking engine, flares cast flickering light over the scene. We had stopped just short of what appeared to be a depot.

Straightening my disheveled clothing, I made my way to the front of the locomotive. The engineer was deep in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize. Steadying my nerves, I approached and introduced myself. I asked what had happened—and where, exactly, we were.

The man turned to me and offered his name, “Frank Doar, the stationmaster.” As we walked toward the depot, he began to recount a most unusual story.

Frank began his account with a steady voice, though the memory clearly weighed on him.

“It was 9:45 p.m. The inbound train had just passed Jedburg. I was sitting in my chair at the depot, drifting in and out of sleep, when I was startled by the sudden appearance of an elderly Black man on the platform. He seemed to materialize out of nowhere—filthy, drenched in sweat, breathless, and visibly agitated.

He told me, in a rush of words, that he’d run several miles up the rail line from a section where the tracks were severely bent. He urged me to release warning flares immediately to alert the incoming train of the danger ahead.

Now, I know everyone who works this line, and I thought I knew everyone in the community—but I’d never seen this man before. The moonlight caught the sweat on his head, giving it a strange halo-like glow. Under normal circumstances, I might have been wary of such a demand. But something about him—his urgency, his eyes—made me trust him. Without hesitation, I deployed the torpedoes.

As I finished placing the last device, I turned to speak to him again. But he was gone. Vanished. As if he’d dissolved into the night air.”

Frank paused, then pulled out his pocket watch.

“The whole encounter—his arrival, the warning, the emergency preparations—had taken only five minutes. It was exactly 9:50 p.m. Just then, an eerie hissing sound swept through the town, followed by a deafening explosion. The ground shook violently. I heard walls and chimneys collapsing, trees groaning as they were ripped from the earth. A massive earthquake had struck Summerville.”

His story left me spellbound.

Passengers had begun to disembark, gathering at the station in search of answers and a way to continue their journey. Whispers of Frank’s account passed from one traveler to another, each person trying to make sense of the mysterious warning.

Soon, a message arrived. Farther up the line, between Summerville and Ten Mile Hill near Woodstock Station, the quake had twisted the tracks into a serpentine curve. A train that had departed Summerville for Charleston derailed during the earthquake. The engineer was critically injured. A crew member had been killed.

The flares Frank deployed had saved our train from the same fate.

Yet one question lingered: how had the old man known? He had vanished without a trace. No one ever saw him again. No one ever got the chance to thank him.

As for Frank Doar, though he was the one who placed the flares and prevented disaster, he refused to take credit. He believed, with quiet conviction, that the old man was an angel.

At least, that was the story Frank told.

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Step Back to Charleston's Colonial Days during and after the Revolutionary War--The Heyward-Washington House

The Heyward-Washington House became Charleston's first historic house museum in 1930 after being acquired by the Charleston Museum in 1929. It was recognized as a National Historic Landmark in 1978. Two of the Heyward-Washington House's dramatic features are exclusive to Charleston house tours. It is located far from the madding crowd of tourism just south of Broad Street in a quiet section of the Lower Peninsula on Church Street.

Thomas Heyward Jr was one of four South Carolina signers of the Declaration of Independence and an artillery officer with the South Carolina militia in the Revolutionary War. He built his Georgian-style double house in 1772. However, he was captured by the British in 1780 when they took possession of the city and returned in 1781 by way of an exchange. In May of 1891, the city rented the house for George Washington's use during the President's week-long Charleston stay. Thus, it is recognized as the Heyward-Washington House, even though it was purchased from Heyward by John F. Grimke in 1794.

A black sign bearing its name marks the address. Standing at its large, Colonial-style pediment front door, a note requests you to knock. The host welcomes you to step into its large center hall which leads to the room where you either pay for the tour ($15) or present your pre-paid voucher. The tour is a self-guided audio presentation, and you can begin anywhere you want. The audio tour includes a recognition of the contributions of Lowcountry women and the enslaved.

You will see a superb collection of historic Charleston-made furniture as you leisurely stroll from room to room including the priceless Holmes Bookcase, considered one of the finest examples of American-made colonial furniture. The audio device details how each room had a specific use to the family combined with a story from the life of the Heyward family in that particular room. Recovered artifacts are displayed throughout. No surprise, in one of the rooms, you will see a portrait of its famous guest, George Washington, hanging above its fireplace.

The highlight of the tour, in my opinion, is when you step out the back entrance. It is here you will see the two dramatic features exclusive to Charleston house tours--the only 1740s kitchen building open to the public in Charleston as well as formal gardens featuring plants commonly used in the South Carolina Lowcountry in the late 18th century. The carriage house and kitchen building flanked each side with the spacious, beautifully landscaped garden extending beyond to the estate's farthest edges. I was surprised how far back it went. It was interesting to see the wide variety of utensils used in the kitchens and what meals were prepared for Thomas Heyward and guests. There is still an active archeological dig underway in the gardens.

The Heyward-Washington House offers an interesting and informative step back to Charleston's colonial days during and after the Revolutionary War for $15. However, several options are available for purchase. You can combine this tour with tickets to the Charleston Museum for $22 or combine it with tickets to the Museum and a tour of the Joseph Manigault House for $30. Tickets are valid for one year after purchase date. For the options, go to Charleston Museum.

87 Church St, Charleston, SC

Monday-Saturday: 10 am -5:00 pm (last audio tour at 4:15 pm)

Sunday: 12:00 - 5:00 pm (last audio tour at 4:15 pm)

Roll the Dice, Make a bet, It is One of Summerville's Distinctive Properties

It is a bit on the difficult side to believe quiet, peaceful, charming Summerville had a "red-light district" in its past. Back in the day, the eatery now known as the Montreux Bar and Grill was a boardinghouse and restaurant operated by a person by the name of Miss Lucia. It was said to have been part of "the red-light district." This would seem to be an apparent contradiction of order, especially when you consider during the time Confederate troops were stationed in the town, they were jailed for bad conduct towards resident females, and rightly so. Different times. Different decades.

On top of houses of ill repute, it also had a gambling casino that was associated with the illustrious Pine Forest Inn--something that would be considered illegal in South Carolina today. Unlike many other states, the state of South Carolina is by far the strictest state when it comes to gambling with no casinos in its major cities. The only legal gambling is on a casino cruise. There is one in Little River called The Big "M" Casino.

Summerville's once upon a time Pine Forest Inn casino was located at 100 Marion Avenue. It is difficult to find any substantial information about the casino itself, but there is great deal of detail available about the house it was located in, and its history is fascinating.

It is believed by residents to have been built somewhere between 1890 and 1900 by Thomas Hopkins and referred to as "Hopkins Villa." The Summerville Scene in April of 1975 called it "the cut-down house." The reason being the original house was built on columns five and a half feet off the ground. When Ralph Sullivan purchased it from Urban M. Kennedy in 1951, he lowered it to the height the present house is at, but he also did something else that would be considered a stunning feat. He moved the complete house from its original location, which was closer to the road, without disturbing the structure, interior, chimneys, and porches. On top of that, he turned it so the main entrance faced Marion Avenue, where it is today. That was some about face. However that was not the only about face it made.

Somewhere between its construction and the 1930's was its gambling days with the Pine Forest Inn. Hopkins left the property to a religious group called the Order of Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy in 1904, who lived there for a number of years but left the property and returned again in the 1930s. Whether it was a casino during that period of time or while Hopkins owned it before he left it to the religious group is a question to be answered with further research. Regardless, that was some about face from vices to virtue.

Today, 100 Marion Avenue is surrounded by white fences and tall bushes. You can get a tempting peek at its main, front entrance through a small gated-opening at the middle of the property. It is a distinctive estate with an arching driveway and expansive porches. It is a fascinating part of Summerville's grand history. Roll the dice, make a bet, it is a history that included what would be considered illegal today.

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Summerville Dream

Summerville Keeps on Rising Like a Phoenix from the Ashes in the Face of Adversity

Summerville, from the time of its conception, has been a place to where Lowcountry residents came to heal and renew. Charleston planters, who perspired in the heat and humidity of their river plantations, marooned themselves there to prevail upon its "remarkably dry and balmy atmosphere." Charlestonians, laboring against the voracious mosquitos and yellow fever of their peninsula estates, traversed the 25 miles to avail upon its "foliage of trees and luxuriant undergrowth" that "shut in any poisonous exhalations that might otherwise arise." Unequivocally, Summerville has been appraised as a "charming, rural, picturesque town with a health-promoting atmosphere."

However, Summerville's journey from "Let The Pines Be Sacred" to "The Birthplace of Sweet Tea" has had its ups and downs. In the beginning, the inviting sandy plateau was dotted with Mosquito houses with roving cattle cutting paths through the many pine trees. Then, the railroad came to town and made Summerville one of its stops and held out the promise of greater things to come, but the pineland village grew slowly in population and accommodations.

Then, in 1860, the inhabitants came under the influence of a "new sprit." The sluggish apathy of the previous years seemed to disappear. An "enthusiasm for progress" pervaded the sleepy community. A new administration was taking charge. The new mayor, Reverend Limehouse, purchased land on the Great Thoroughfare and had a new town hall built with a jail behind it and adjacent was the town market. The Brown's Hotel was open for business with a new ten-pin alley and billiard room along with $.50 tickets to Charleston and back, including carriage ride. The Vose Inn and Mr. Cooper's Paradise were other attractors.

However, a political hurricane was brewing in the social atmosphere and its black, ominous clouds spilled over the Town in a fury. It was now 1861. In the distance, shells rained down on Fort Sumter and the American Civil war was under way. Southern State troops were ordered to rendezvous on the South Carolina Railroad at Camp Woodward in Summerville. It would be a chaotic time with the arrival of the emotionally charged troops.

About the gathering combatants, Major Thomas W. Woodward wrote in his memoirs, "And—folly of follies—you were to be allowed to choose whether you would go as a Regiment or disband and go home, although you had already agreed to offer your services to the Confederacy." He further lamented, "some companies preserved their discipline, others were really but roving mobs of jolly, rollicking soldiers."

Eventually, the uniforms changed from grey to blue. There was a threat the Federals who captured Charleston were going to burn the town. In May of 1865, the Black Union Provisional Brigade moved from their position at Bacon's Bridge to occupy Summerville. With many houses and buildings turned into hospitals, it became the temporary residents for the sickly and wounded.

While recovering from the Civil War, the final years of the 19th century saw two more devastating local events. Summerville was rattled by an earthquake in 1886 and a downtown fire ravaged most of the buildings around the Town's square. As with all fires, the clouds of thick smoke dispersed and sunny, blue skies appeared overhead. The sacred tree's that soothed the first marooners came to the rescue.

The International Congress of Physicians in Paris declared Summerville one of the world's two best places for treating lung disorders. The town rose from the ashes and the pleasant aroma of azalea and wisteria wafted through the tall trees and winding streets. Grand inns and hotels were constructed to accommodate the influx of visitors. It was the "Golden Age of the Inns" and prosperity reigned supreme. But alas, the dubious crown of financial security was soon to be knocked off.

An Economic shakeup called the Great Depression began to change the landscape. The wrecking ball took out two of the Town's premier accommodations, the Pine Forest and Carolina Inn. The Summerville Short no longer stopped and the grand old railroad station disappeared from Hutchinson Square. The Summerville Show stopped the movie projectors from turning. Hurricane Hugo paid an unwelcoming visit and showed no respect for the cherished pines. The downtown area lost its allure.

Then, a call went out. :The show must go on," said the Flowertown Players, and Summerville had a Dream. Every Third Thursday the community would gather together and the shops were going local. The Town's popular magazine made a sweet discovery and the "Birthplace of Sweet Tea" took its honored place among the town's mottos, and now from Botany Bay to Boone Hall, it is "at the heart of it all." Restaurants and cafes are on nearly every corner and in-between inviting patrons to linger a little longer. It seems there is no stopping the Town from rising like a Phoenix from the ashes in the face of adversity, and a little help from providence.

Could there be another civil war, it is in the realm of possibility. Could another earthquake happen, it is a viable danger. Could there be another economic crisis, there is always that prospect. Could there be another Hurricane Hugo, blink your eyes and the weather does change. As heralded in this article, each of these insidious calamities have confronted the Town through its 177 years, and each time without reservation, it has prevailed. The only way Summerville could ever fail is if it would lose touch with its sense of itself. Who it was, who it is, who it needs to be, and who it must be in the ever changing South Carolina Lowcountry.

Visit Summerville        Coastal Coffee Roasters

Summerville Dream     La Rustica - on Magnolia

Flowertown Players      Laura Summerville

Azalea Magazine          Five Loaves Cafe

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Fort Sumter Tour is like the Carriage Rides in Downtown--When Visiting Charleston, You Should do It

The first shots of the American Civil War are traditionally said to have been fired at the bombardment of Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861, but officially they were not. Some months before the Sumter bombardment, in January of that same year, a merchant ship sent by President Buchanan carrying supplies for the fort was fired upon by Confederate batteries on Morris Island and after sustaining minor damage, turned away. The ship was called the Star of the West. This is just one of many interesting facts you will learn when you take the tour of Fort Sumter located at the entrance of Charleston Harbor. Of coarse, the only way to get to the fort is by ferry.

We chose Spirit Line Cruises for our tour. The primary departure point is the Aquarium Wharf at 360 Concord Street in Charleston and boats also depart from Patriots Point at 40 Patriots Point Boulevard in Mount Pleasant. Before boarding the ferry, you will want to visit the Fort Sumter Visitor Center at 340 Concord Street at Liberty Square in Charleston where you will enjoy a museum and get necessary information about the tour. The total tour time is 2 1/4 hours with about 1 hour spent in the fort.

The boarding time for our cruise was 2 pm. It was full capacity, and most everyone gathered on the top deck for the best views of the surrounding harbor sights and the entertaining narration, which lasted the full trip from departure to the fort's dock. Ravenel Bridge, U.S.S. Yorktown, Charleston Harbor Resort, Pinckney Castle, Charleston's waterfront, ships of all sizes, and if you are fortunate, dolphin swimming in the nutrient-rich, murky waters of the harbor are the points of interest you will see on your trip out.

Fort Sumter was the trigger point that plunged the North and South into America's deadliest war. What you see of the fort today is the preserved ruins left over from the bombardment it suffered, first, from the Confederates in 1861, and then, from the Federals after the South took control of the fort to the end of the war. It was a formidable fort, although never really completed.

Fort Sumter was constructed on a man-made island built from over ten thousand tons of granite transported from Maine and started in 1829. Well over 60,000 tons of rock was imported from other sites. The island itself was 2.4 acres in size. Bricks, shells and sand could be obtained locally, but the capacity of local brickyards was inadequate to supply the millions of bricks required to build. Hundreds of thousands of oyster shells were used for the lime to make concrete. The fort would have 50 foot three-tiered walls with five sides. By 1860, the island and the outer fortifications were complete, but the fort's interior and armaments remained unfinished. You will get the full story as you stroll the grounds reading the various detailed information locations on your self-guided tour. There are park rangers available to answer any questions you may have.

The Fort Sumter Tour is informative and absorbing. The ferry ride to and from is relaxing as you take in the surrounding sites and listen to the engaging narrations. Our narrator told an intriguing story. While in the fort, you get a sense of what it was like to be within its walls while hundreds of shells rain down from the sky from Fort Moultrie, Fort Johnson, and other surrounding coastal batteries totaling 19. Some Civil War cannons had the power to launch shells up to five miles in distance.

Fort Sumter Tour is part of the story and allure that makes Charleston the number one destination in the nation. When in town visiting, tourist or local, you should reserve your ticket, hop on the ferry, and take a ride into the past.

Fort Sumter Tour Prices:

Adults - $37

Seniors/Active Military - $33

Children(4-11) - $23

Children 3 and under - Free

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Charleston's Only Below-Street-Level Bar--Truly a Hidden Gem

Charleston has numerous rooftop bars located throughout its downtown area with beautiful sweeping views of its surrounding historic ambience, but it has only one bar with the unusual and alluring distinction of being below-street-level. Large numbers of pedestrians stream past its street level entrance everyday because it is located at one of the busiest intersections in the French Quarter during tour hours. Its address is the 18th century Italian Renaissance building at 1 Broad Street. The name of the speakeasy-style cocktail space is Bar Vaute'.

The original two story building on Lot 13 of the "Grand Modell" of Charleston at various times housed a watchmaker, grocer, druggist, bookbinder and stationer before becoming a bank. In 1852, the State Bank of South Carolina purchased three two story brick buildings at the corner of Broad and East Bay streets, demolished them, and in 1853 built the Italian Renaissance building of One Broad Street and the adjacent building, 3 Broad Street. The brownstone building was designed by Charleston's most notable antebellum architectural firm of Edward C. Jones and Francis D. Lee. 

The 1853 building's first floor housed the bank, the second floor was constructed for the Mercantile Library of Charleston, and the third floor had private office space. Being on higher ground, its unusual below street-level rooms, used for additional office space, featured 11-foot ceilings, fire places, and ample light provided by windows with handsome grillwork that opened to a window well with grating installed to protect pedestrians.

As decades went by, numerous banks of different names traded ownership and did business on the first floor while the upper floors were used by varying entities. It was damaged by the Civil War bombardments, the Charleston earthquake, and the tornadoes of September 29, 1938. It went through several renovations and restorations. In 2006, plans were made to convert it to luxury condominiums. The conversion plan was abandoned, and the building laid vacant until 2015. The space was adapted for mixed use with retail on the first, office on the second and an apartment on the third floor. Finally, One Broad Street Restaurant and the basement Bakers Bar closed due to the Covid pandemic and French restaurant, Brasserie La Banque, opened on July 2, 2021 with its clandestine speakeasy-style cocktail space, Bar Vaute'.

It is an understatement to say the bar is hidden. Standing on the corner of E. Bay and Broad Street, no sign marks Bar Vaute's entry point. You can proceed to the bar from the building's French restaurant, but the double-door entrance on E. Bay Street gives you direct access, where you descend a stair to the lower level. Once you have made your way to the bottom, its entry remains puzzling. As you look around, you will spot a double, gold curtain beyond the stair in a back corner-- quite unpretentious.

Bar Vaute' is a dimly lit, intimate space wrapped around a well-stocked bar surrounded by wood-trimmed pillars inset with glass. Along its aged brick walls are small tables set for two, each with a candle and menus. I counted enough seating for about 28 patrons.

Bar Vaute' features a simple menu with a meat and cheese board, five or six dishes, and two or three desserts. Executive Chef Jeb Aldrich described it this way, "That menu will be a little more playful and give the cooks a chance to be creative and have fun with the ingredients." I was there for an early evening drink, so the only thing I ordered from the menu was the house-made Brioche with whipped butter for $7.

The drink menu offered seven cocktails, three French classics, two spirit free drinks with an option to add spirits, and of course wine selections. I was looking for a Manhattan style drink, so I consulted the bartender for a suggestion, which turned out to be Wanna Find, Peace of Mind(Elijah Craig Rye Whiskey, Brandy, Carfano Antica, and Bitters) for $15. It was smooth and satisfying.

The bar's one bartender was accommodating and friendly. The one server was quite busy tending to the filled tables. The Brioche was a little slow in arriving, but I was not in a hurry. She was diligent in keeping my water glass filled and checked in several times. By the time I was ready to check out, the bar was packed. That was around 6:10 pm.

The location of Bar Vaute', 1 Broad Street, has a long and illustrious history. My interest in the bar was peaked by an article about hidden speakeasy-style cocktail spaces in Charleston. Judging from my visit to Bar Vaute', when using the word "hidden" in its description, it truly fits the billing more than its counterparts. Add to that, it has the unusual and alluring distinction of being Charleston's only below-street-level bar. If you are looking for a dimly lit, intimate place for a palate-pleasing drink and one-on-one conversation, check it out for yourself.

Monday through Thursday 4 pm-11 pm

Friday and Saturday 4 pm-12 am

ASPERO HOUR, Monday through Wednesday 4 pm-6 pm

1 Broad Street Floor B, Charleston, SC

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