“Across the Causeway of Time: The Hidden History of the Pitt Street Bridge”

The Pitt Street Bridge is a popular Charleston destination for enjoying a pleasant stroll with a scenic view of the harbor and the Sullivan’s Island marshlands. It is also an ideal place to cast your fishing line or slide your kayak into the surrounding estuary waters. However, beginning January 5, a section of the bridge’s causeway will be closed for a week so crews can drill into its substructure to examine and assess its stability. During the inspection, 600 feet will remain open for you to enjoy. As you walk its wooden causeway, soaking in the view, it’s worth pausing to consider the long and surprising history that unfolded across these waters.

Today, Charleston’s barrier islands stretching north from the harbor are lined with beautiful, expansive vacation homes. Their sparkling shorelines welcome throngs of visitors and local beachgoers spreading blankets and chairs across the sand. With that familiar scene in mind, it may be difficult to imagine one of these pristine islands once dominated not by quiet neighborhoods but by a Ferris wheel turning above the dunes, a merry‑go‑round spinning in the sand, and a Coney Island–style roller coaster called The Steeple Chase thundering across the landscape. Yet the islands have undergone dramatic transformations long before becoming the serene retreats we know today.

To understand how unlikely such amusements once were, it helps to look back to the earliest days of settlement. In the colonial era, a simple plank bridge built on barrels connected what is now Mount Pleasant to Sullivan’s Island at Cove Inlet. When Edgar Allan Poe arrived on Sullivan’s Island in 1827 aboard the Waltham and served as a company clerk at Fort Moultrie, he described the island in vivid, if unflattering, terms. In The Gold Bug, he wrote, “The island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than sea sand, and is about three miles long…” His portrayal—bleak, windswept, and sparsely inhabited—reflects both the island’s raw state and Poe’s own dark literary sensibilities.

Yet not everyone saw Sullivan’s Island through such a somber lens. Around the same time, Charleston architect Robert Mills offered a far more inviting depiction. Writing in 1826, he described the island as “the summer retreat for pleasure and health” for Charlestonians, noting the steady flow of boats ferrying visitors across the harbor and the growing village of Moultrieville with its wooden houses and breezy shoreline. He praised the firm, wide beach at low tide, where “the delighted visitant may inhale the pure and bracing sea breeze, which wafts health and vigor to the system.”

The old floating footbridge stretching across from mainland Mount Pleasant was once the only access to Sullivan’s Island—and the stepping‑stone to the uninhabited six‑mile stretch of sand beyond Breach Inlet known as Long Island. On the 17th of February, under the command of Lt. George Dixon, the Hunley’s crew of eight crossed that same footbridge at Cove Inlet near Fort Moultrie. From there, they hiked 2½ miles north to Breach Inlet and waited for nightfall, following a route that would later become central to the island’s transformation.

As the islands slowly drew more attention, the Town of Moultrieville granted land to Robert Chisolm for the construction of a hotel. Around Station 22, the New Brighton Hotel rose in the mid‑1880s—later renamed the Atlantic Beach Hotel—and included three beach cottages alongside the main structure. This modest development marked the beginning of a new era of leisure along the coast.

That shift accelerated in 1897, when the stretch of sand beyond Breach Inlet—once visited only by the Atlantic surf—began to attract real interest. Dr. J. S. Lawrence established a public amusement and beach resort on the island. With no cottages or hotels yet built, visitors gathered at the Pavilion, where a 50‑cent meal awaited them. The amusements were ambitious: a Ferris wheel, a merry‑go‑round, and a roller‑coaster‑style ride called The Steeple Chase, featuring five mechanical horses racing along a U‑shaped track. The Ferris wheel itself had traveled a storied path—from the Chicago World’s Fair in 1892 to the Cotton Congress in Atlanta and then to Coney Island—before arriving in South Carolina. The resort’s popularity earned it the nickname “Playground of the South,” and with that, the Isle of Palms was born.

Infrastructure soon followed. In 1898, the old planked bridge was replaced by a trolley bridge known as the Cove Inlet Bridge, or the Pitt Street Bridge. Before electricity, the earliest trolleys were horse‑drawn and ran on wooden rails that often shifted in the sand beds, but even this imperfect system marked a significant improvement in access.

At the same time, Charleston embraced new technology. The electric streetcar arrived in the city, and in July of that year the Seashore Road opened. The local paper reported on July 26, “A great event for the city, the Seashore Road formally opened yesterday…” as ferries such as the Commodore Perry, the Sappho, and the Pocosin carried eager passengers across the harbor to Mount Pleasant.

Once ashore, travelers boarded trolley cars that carried them through Mount Pleasant, across the Pitt Street Bridge, and onward toward Breach Inlet before continuing to the Isle of Palms. Development followed quickly: Nicholas Sottile built the island’s first home in 1898 at 807 Ocean Boulevard. The Seashore Hotel opened in 1906 with fifty rooms, and the Hotel Marion by the Sea followed in 1912.

Not all progress was without loss. On January 9, 1925, tragedy struck the Atlantic Beach Hotel on Sullivan’s Island when it, along with one of its cottages, burned to the ground. Rumor held that a bootlegger searching for hidden whiskey lit a match in the bushes beside the hotel, sparking the blaze. No hotel would ever rise on the island again.

Transportation continued to evolve. In the 1920s, the Pitt Street Bridge was widened for vehicular traffic, and a drawbridge was added. By 1926, the trolley trestle over Breach Inlet had been converted into a bridge for automobiles, and trolley service to Sullivan’s Island ended the following year.

Until then, Mount Pleasant and the islands had relied entirely on ferries to connect with Charleston. That changed in 1929 with the construction of the Grace Memorial Bridge, a cantilever span across the Cooper River that finally linked the islands to the city by automobile. The Pitt Street Bridge closed to traffic when its drawbridge was relocated, and in 1945 the Ben Sawyer Bridge was completed. Its rotating center span allowed boats to pass along the Intracoastal Waterway, marking the final step in the islands’ evolution from isolated stretches of sand to accessible coastal communities.

On February 17th, 153 years ago, A Momentous Piece of Charleston History Disappeared into The Atlantic Ocean

Besieged Charleston

From land, the Union forces, ominously positioned on Morris Island, fired its first shots into the beating heart of downtown Charleston from a huge siege cannon nicknamed "The Swamp Angel." The pride of South Carolina was now under heavy fire. While from sea, the Union's strangle hold on Charleston Harbor was squeezing the oxygen out of the City's economy, allowing less and less blockade runners through. The Confederate forces attempting to protect the city were desperate. Choking and besieged, Charleston turned their hopes to a curious secret submersible weapon from Mobile called the H.L. Hunley. It was February of 1864.

Cove Inlet

On the 17th of February, under the command of Lt. George Dixon, the Hunley's crew of eight made their way across the footbridge on the southern end of Sullivan's Island at Cove Inlet near Fort Moultrie. From there, they hiked 2 1/2 mile's north to Breach Inlet and awaited nightfall. It was cold and it was quiet when the appointed time arrived. The moonlight sparkled on the surface of the chilly inlet waters. Dixon and the crew boarded the cylindrical iron boiler fashioned into a submarine with a 17-foot spar carrying a 135 pound torpedo filled full of explosives mounted on its bow.

Breach Inlet

With barely enough room to accommodate themselves, the eight men poured sweat over hand cranks that powered a spinning propeller while their captain manned the dive planes steering man and iron to a location four miles off Breach Inlet in the north channel of Sullivan's Island where the Federal steam sloop-of-war USS Housatonic, a powerful new vessel, carrying eleven guns of the largest caliber, was prowling the darkened blockaded waters.

A lookout aboard the Union ship, tired, cold and restless, suddenly spotted something moving in the chilly waters. Could it be floating debris? Something about the shadowy object didn't seem right. The alarm was sounded. Shots rang out and bullets ricocheted in all directions. The low profile of the submersible in the water made it impossible to direct the ship's firepower at it. Other Union sailors joined in the frantic firing of revolvers and rifles. The object continued to approach at about three knots.

With bullets bouncing off its hull, the Hunley rammed her long metal spar into the stern area, planting the torpedo into the Housatonic. The men inside the Hunley lunged forward from the impact, then quickly backed their sub out as the 150-foot attached detonation rope played out. Within seconds, the world rocked and every man, above and below, became enveloped in a concussion of destruction.

The explosion caused the Housatonic to burn for three minutes before sending it plunging to the bottom killing five sailors. The Hunley then surfaced long enough for her crew to signal their comrades on the shore of Sullivan's Island with a blue magnesium light, indicating a successful mission. The shore crew stoked their signal fires and anxiously awaited the Hunley's return. It did not. Shortly after her historic achievement, the Hunley, along with its crew, vanished into the dark, salty waters without a trace.

I am from Northeastern Ohio, and in that part of the U.S. you are far removed from the many notable places and events of the Civil War, but here in the South, in Charleston, you are in the heart of it all. It is tightly weaved into the very fabric of Charleston's identity and for visitors it is inescapable, both by land and water. The Spiritline Cruises in Charleston Harbor shuttles people back and forth on a daily basis to the place where it all started, Fort Sumter. The guides on one of the numerous historic carriage rides seen crisscrossing the historic district are dressed in Confederate gray uniforms. You can get up close and personal by physically touching the iron mortars and cannon at Fort Moultrie or White Point Gardens that were used to bombard Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861.

My first exposure to the story of the Hunley was by way of a 1999 movie and then in more detail, when I moved to Charleston. Driving down Meeting Street towards the French Quarter, you pass a replica at the entrance of the Charleston Museum.

Most likely, there are quite a few people in this country who don't know the Hunley exists or its story. For those who don't, the Hunley was the first successful combat submarine. Successful, meaning the Confederate submarine accomplished its one and only mission. It didn't successfully return to port. The Hunley disappeared under the waters off of Sullivan's Island and for 136 years its fate remained a mystery.

Buried in three feet of sediment and laying on her starboard side with the bow pointing almost directly toward Sullivan's Island, the Hunley's final resting place was discovered in 1995. It was carefully and meticulously raised in 2000, still in tack, from the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. There are theories as to what happened to the Hunley, but no one really knows for sure what caused its demise. Scientists have been puzzling over the remains of the Hunley since its recovery, searching for clues that will assist them with providing a feasible hypothesis.

The bow (image from Friends of the Hunley)

The stern (image from Friends of the Hunley)

You can view the Hunley and the artifacts uncovered with it at its own museum where it is displayed in a 90,000 gallon conservation tank. Museum location is the Warren Lasch Conservation Center, 1250 Supply Street (on the old Charleston Navy Base), North Charleston, South Carolina. A startling discovery was made in 2002 while researching the interior of the sub that confirmed a long held legend. For the complete story of this find and tour information go to Friends of the Hunley.