The Summerville Inn That Changed Its Appearance Like a Chameleon

Dorchester Inn

Vose Inn is not a commonly recognizable name in the history of Summerville. The obvious reason for its present anonymity is it no longer exists. It was so severely damaged by the Earthquake of 1886, it was deserted to the elements to rot into oblivion. It was situated behind what is now Ambler Hall on W. Carolina.

A famous name in Charleston history stayed there, and afterwards, penned some glowing remarks about the "charming, rural, picturesque" town of Summerville. She spoke of a "new spirit" and an "enthusiasm for progress." It was 1860, and the Charleston writer was a woman nicknamed "the ancient lady," Mrs. Elizabeth Anne Poyas.

Around the same time, another accommodation was emerging in popularity as a place that combined all the comforts of a city hotel, with the enjoyments of country living. The hotel's address was at the crossroads of W. Carolina and Sumter Ave. But on this day of March 8, 2024, as I stand at that very same location, no traces of the lodging with a history as old as Summerville's pine trees and an identity that varied as much as a chameleon changes colors remained.

Unmercifully, in the 1960's, it suffered the same irreversibly regrettable fate as the Vose Inn, total destruction. So, with some imagination and preserved photos, I gazed out over the present landscape and visually reconstructed the old inn.  

In 1810, Moore's Tavern stood on the property. It would become the Brown's Hotel around 1855 under the ownership of Isaac T. Brown--also called the Summerville House. Brown added a ten-pin alley and a billiard room. The hotel was surrounded by wide piazzas. Inside were spacious parlors, ample halls, and comfortable and airy chambers complimented by all the substantials and luxuries of a well supplied table. Hotel rates were $1.25 a day, $7.00 a week, and $25.50 a month. Boarders were furnished tickets at $.50 each for a round trip passage on the railroad to Charleston, which was a hour trip, including carriage ride to and from the depot.

The Brown's Hotel suffered damage from the 1886 earthquake. It closed around 1890, but unlike the Vose Inn, reopened in 1895. It became known as the Dorchester Inn featuring full, wrap-around porches and numerous shuttered windows. In 1912, T.R. Moore owned the Dorchester Inn and after enlarging the structure, extensively remodeling the interior, and updating the building, it opened its doors as the Carolina Inn featuring 67 rooms and a swimming pool.

With white wood-rail fencing, beautifully landscaped walking gardens, and an acquired reputation for excellent accommodations and cuisine, it would become preferred by many travelers for its discreet elegance and atmosphere in comparison to the opulence of another competitor, the Pine Forest Inn. There was an east wing and a west wing with one large, window-lined dining room sectioned off into two dining spaces with table settings containing china and sterling. A third dining room was reserved for staff employees who accompanied their employers when staying at the inn. The fine cuisine included an offering of duck and quail, two dishes the inn's kitchen was renowned for.

Unlike the structured offerings of the Pine Forest Inn, there were no activities organized by management. Patrons were left to their own devices. One of the favorite pastimes of the guests was competing in bridge tournaments and competitions. Somewhat similar to tourism today, other diversions included historical tours, garden tours, maybe a silent movie at the Arcade Theatre, or shopping and sightseeing excursions into Charleston on the South Carolina Railroad out of Summerville.

The only part of the inn complex that has survived is the two-story 2,400 square foot annex building at 315 W. Carolina. It was built to serve as an the overflow for guests seeking accommodations at the main building. It has been a private residence since 1963.

Carolina Inn Annex

Carolina Inn was sometimes mistakenly confused with White Gables by some today--another inn found on the famous directional sign. A Southern adaptation of Greek Revival architecture, White Gables was built in 1830 at the crossroads of Palmetto and Richardson Streets and was purchased by Sarah Woodruff in the early 1900's. There are some interesting stories associated with the Woodruffs and White Gables. Sarah was Summerville's Scarlet O'Hara when it came to business. However, that is another story.

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Summerville's Most Famous Porch Swing--An Entertainingly Interesting Story

There are stories, and then there are the stories. You know, the kind that flirts with the boundaries of the unbelievable, leaving the reader wondering how the outcome could even be in the realm of possibility. Summerville holds within its historical archives such stories. What you are about to read is not a mind-blowing revelation, but it is entertainingly interesting.

It was the Golden Age for the inns of Summerville. Sara Woodruff had just purchased a 65-year-old house located on the corner of Richardson Ave and Palmetto Street. She watched with curious interest as the influx of visitors from Charleston and places beyond created potentially profitable opportunities and stimulated Summerville's local businesses. The Pine Forest Inn, Carolina Inn, Halcyon Inn, and others were all thriving as a result. She envisioned the house, with its three servants' cottages, as a potential source of income for the future. She would call her new purchase White Gables. Then, one unsuspecting day, an opportunity came rocking on her porch.

Upon coming out her front door, she found a man sitting on her porch swing. He had been walking around town looking for a place to stay, got tired, and took a seat on the swing. He introduced himself as Henry Clay and related how he had been sent to Summerville by his doctor to take advantage of the turpentine-rich air. He was an asthmatic. Sara left Mr. Clay with a glass of lemonade and an invitation to talk when she got back, which they did, and Mr. Clay became her first boarder.

The story's most captivating feature is about to be revealed. Mr. Woodruff was a regimented man and did things to a particular schedule, habits of a railroad employee. Except for his own rooms and the first-floor parlor, he never went into any other part of the house, nor did he show any interest in the day-to-day matters of the household, which he left to Sara to govern. As part of the strict terms laid out by Sara, Mr. Clay agreed to stay in his room during the evening hours, only venturing downstairs during the day. Mr. Clay was a paying guest on the third floor of White Gables for almost four years, which brings us to the most astonishing part of this story. Mr. Woodruff never knew of Mr. Clay's presence in all those years.

Now, you have to wonder, in all that time, the two of them never once crossed paths. Believe it or not, that is the way the family tells the story. It was Sara's profitable little secret.

From 1914 to 1939, Sara's White Gables was famous for Summerville hospitality. Ten months out of the year, many visitors from Charleston and some nationally famous people rented the three cottages on the property and boarded rooms in the house. It became the financial success she envisioned and the security she scrupulously and shrewdly planned for herself and her family.

White Gables had changed over the years since its glory days under the ownership of Sara Woodruff. Future owners altered the rear porch, and added a brick chimney that blocked one of the house's back gables. During recent years, the structure has been restored back to the house Sara Woodruff fell in love with and turned into a beloved Summerville inn. Today, the emblematic porch swing she found Mr. Clay sitting on that providential day remains in place.

White Gables today.

Tranquil Halcyon Inn--An Enduring Icon Of Summerville's Prosperous Golden Age

Halcyon is likely not a commonly recognizable word by the average, everyday person unless you are of Greek decent or a student of Greek mythology. And may I add to this short list of the privileged few, the older residents of Summerville and the few observant Summervillians who have seen it while driving along S. Main Street.

To the Greeks, the Alkyonides Meres(Halcyon Days in English) is a name used to describe a two week period of warm and calm weather that generally occurs around the winter solstice, though not exclusively. They can also occur in February.

To a student of Greek mythology, the mythical explanation for the sunny days of calm seas and winds that appear every year between mid January and mid February in Greece is found in the story of the goddess Halcyon(Alcyone in Greek) and her mortal husband, King Ceyx of Thessaly. Their story is one of love, commitment, and death, but to make a long story short, ends with them being transformed into seabirds(many myths say Kingfisher birds) to be together forever. So her eggs can survive during the harsh winter weather, Zeus gave her 14 days of good and calm weather--thus the birth of the Halcyon Days. The term has come to signify prosperity, joy, liberation and, of course, calm.

To the older residents of Summerville, the word Halcyon is remembered as the name of one of the grand resort inns that served the town during its most prosperous days called the Golden Age. If you are a Summervillian who has traveled up and down Highway 17-A while going about your everyday business, you likely have driven past Halcyon Place many times. Perhaps, you casually observed the street sign bearing its name, but were unaware of the unique history hidden beyond the tall trees, the white pillars and black gates.

The exact construction date of the house that eventually became known as Halcyon Place is unknown. The Colleton County records, the properties original county, were lost when Sherman's troops burned Columbia in 1865. The earliest surviving reference to the property indicates the house was built between 1830 and 1840 and was called Duke's house--the original owner being John R. Duke. It was built in the classic Southern style. A 12 x 50 foot spacious two-story columned porch greeted you on arrival. On the porch was a joggling board--one of its owners tells a story of acquiring the joggling board she felt completed the porch.

Inside, the first floor featured a 33 x 20 foot living room with 13 foot ceilings, a spacious 26 x 20 dining room, two large dens, a bedroom and stairs leading to the second floor. The second floor contained four bedrooms and a hall. The most unusual second floor feature was a door that led to nowhere, no stairs, no landing and no indication anything was ever there except empty space. Mrs. Dion, one of its owners, jokingly referred to it as the door for invisible inhabitants.

A 1909 plat of the property shows Halcyon Place covered eight acres, which included a pear orchard. Aside from the house, on the grounds were some old outbuildings, service buildings, servants quarters and a gazebo. It was these buildings that were turned into guest houses when Halcyon Place served as an exclusive resort inn under the ownership of the Weeds. One of the guest houses was called "Magruder's House." It was named after a slave that lived there until the 1930's. Another, called the "Pink Cottage", was a former stable and still had the barn doors to prove it. Located in a garden with a bricked-in spring, the octagonal gazebo was considered a historic landmark.

Halcyon Inn is not known for accommodating any famous guests like the Pine Forest Inn and Carolina Inn--at least none I am aware of. Mrs. Caroline Parameter, daughter of Mrs. Weed, was well known for her delicious menus--at one time she ran the Tea Room at Middleton Place. To its Northern visitors, Halcyon Inn was an oasis of tranquility and calm, a safe haven away from the rough waters of life and harsh winters--many of them staying a whole season spanning from late October to April.

Today, it remains a picture of resilience and serenity with its beautifully landscaped grounds, safely tucked away under the properties old oaks and beyond its large black gates. Appropriately named and forever immortalized in the historic writings of Summerville's more prominent residents, it is a reminder of the town's "halcyon days" and a surviving icon of the Golden Age.

New York Yankee left fielder, Brett Gardner, purchased 100 Halcyon in 2011.

The Scarlett O'Hara of Summerville Past And Her Tara--An Epic Story

Scarlett O'Hara is the protagonist in Margaret Mitchell's "Gone with the Wind"--the 1936 novel that became an epic film in 1939. In the original drafts, Mitchell named her character Pansy, but just before going to print she changed it to Scarlett; a more fitting name for the fiery, shrewd, opportunistic character who had no qualms about doing what was necessary to survive and succeed. Years before Mitchell created her character, an early Summerville resident by the name of Sara Woodruff in many ways embodied those characteristics, but in a delightful way. She is the Scarlett O'Hara of Summerville and her Tara was White Gables.

White Gables was built by the Peake Family somewhere between the 1830's and early 1850's. A three-story house with 12 rooms, three halls, five baths and three porches, it was designed in the Classic Greek Revival architecture with a southern flavor. The first floor structure is formidable with double brick walls over 18 inches thick, 9 foot ceilings, plastered walls, pegged solid shutters, wainscoting and molded chair rail throughout the rooms. The second floor has 14-foot ceilings featuring wide cornices and carved medallions. The original house had double piazzas front and back; the back piazzas were altered later in its history. A conservatory was also later added to the property. It was once chosen by the Preservation Society as an outstanding representation of period architecture.

In the early 1900's, Sara developed a fondness for the near 65 year old house located on the corner of Richardson Ave and Palmetto Street. What happened next gave birth to her distinguished story and White Gables fame. Both fascinating and amusing, it is a story unlike any other in Summerville history.

Sara was married to Harry Woodruff, a Charleston station master who was somewhat of a big spender and had a weakness for gambling. A family story reported he lost downtown Houston in a card game in Texas. A constant concern for Sara, she worried about their finances and because Harry was 10 years older than herself, she worried about being left with no income and children to raise. To ensure the families success and survival, she put in motion a shrewd plan.

Harry had returned to town from business for the railroad and as usual, was met at the Summerville train station by the family retainer with his horse and carriage. But to Harry's bewilderment, upon leaving the station, they did not take the customary route home. Puzzled, he asked the driver, "Where are you taking me?" Unknown to Mr. Woodruff his home address had changed while he was away. Sara had purchased White Gables.

The Woodruff's were a very traditional Southern family. Always respectful of her husband, this was certainly a bold move on Sara's part. Still, she had no qualms about buying the house and property without her husband's knowledge. Despite the deception, Mr. Woodruff appreciated Sara's resourcefulness and all the family came to love their new home.

It was the Golden Years for the Inns of Summerville. Sara watched with curious interest as the influx of visitors from Charleston and places beyond stimulated the local businesses and potentially profitable opportunities. The Pine Forest Inn, Carolina Inn, the Halcyon Inn, and others were all thriving. She envisioned White Gables with its three servants cottages as a potential source of income for the future. Then one unsuspecting day, opportunity came rocking on her porch.

One day, coming out her front door, she found a man sitting on the porch swing. He had been walking around town looking for a place to stay, got tired and sat on the porch. He introduced himself as Henry Clay and related how he had been sent to Summerville by his doctor for the turpentine rich air, being an asthmatic. Sara left Mr. Clay with a glass of lemonade and an invitation to talk when she got back, which they did, and Mr. Clay became her first boarder.

The story does not end there. It seems Mr. Clay was a paying guest on the third floor of White Gables for almost four years without Mr. Woodruff ever knowing it. You see, Mr. Woodruff was a very regimented man and did things to a particular schedule. Except for his own rooms and the first floor parlor, he never went in any other part of the house or showed an interest in what else went on. On the other hand, as part of the strict terms laid out by Sara, Mr. Clay agreed to stay in his room during the evening hours, only venturing to the downstairs during the day.

From 1914 to 1939, Sara's White Gables was famous for Summerville hospitality. Ten months out of the year visitors, many from Charleston and some nationally famous people, rented the three cottages on the property and boarded rooms in the house. It became the financial success she envisioned and the security she scrupulously and shrewdly planned for. Considering all of this narrative, she is the Scarlett O'Hara of Summerville.


White Gables is presently for sale. If you would love to own a famous piece of Summerville's glorious history, this is an the opportunity. You can purchase it for $649,000. The day I visited the property, I sat on what quite possibly was the swing Mr. Clay sat on over a hundred years previous and talked about its history with a gentleman who lived in the conservatory.

A historical note: During the Civil War, Mr. Peake was away on business in Columbia. With the home vacant, he was concerned the Yankees would occupy it. To prevent this, he asked the Jamison Family to live in the house until his return.

A Visit To The Illustrious Pine Forest Inn of Summerville-Somewhere In Time

Shrouded in a final blast of steam, the Summerville Short eased into the station; a small, elaborately decorated Victorian style structure. Stepping onto the depot platform, I glanced at my pocket watch. The bright, Lowcountry sun reflected off its glassy face. It was 2:05 pm. "Right on time," I whispered. A plume of black smoke billowed from the locomotive's smokebox and was quickly whisked away by the warm, early afternoon breeze.

Horse drawn carriages awaited arriving passengers. I surveyed the depot area for my reserved transportation. I spotted a group of coachman. One in the group was holding up a piece of paper with my name on it. I approached the smartly dressed gentleman and identified myself. "Good afternoon, Sir. Welcome to Summerville," he said. His words were tainted with a quaint accent quite different from what I was used to back in Ohio. He handed me a newspaper. It was dated April 9, 1902. I stepped aboard the carriage. With a gentle tug on the reins by my experienced driver, the carriage eased forward.

The downtown district was crowded with people. Rumors President Roosevelt and his entourage were in the Summerville area abounded--a bit of information I overheard while on the train. To the left of our advancing carriage was a fenced-in square landscaped with rows of live oaks and a diamond shaped walkway where children were at play.

On the opposite side of the square stood a row of wooden buildings dominated by a near completed triple-arched façade bearing the designation, Arcade Theater. To our right, a few gentleman standing in front of a pharmacy hospitably tipped their hats as we passed. Turning the corner at an intersection, I asked, "What is the name of this road?" The coachman replied, "Main Street." I followed with an additional question. "The tall building on the right with the bell tower, what purpose does it serve?" "Town Hall, Sir."

Leaving the town square behind, we passed a white directional sign covered with wooden pointers containing the names of the various inns and hotels located throughout Old Summerville and then, several large homes bordered by white-picket fences. Each was richly adorned by a profusion of magenta colored flowers noticeably common to the area. We entered a thick stand of tall pines intermingled with aged, moss covered live oaks. Clusters of wisteria dangled freely from some of the branches. I inhaled a full breath of air. It was distinctly laced with the refreshing scent of pine.

Winding through the shaded canopy, it wasn't long before we came upon a broad, brick paved drive flanked by huge white urns containing plantings of the same flower growing throughout the town. We passed under a columned gateway surrounded by beautiful gardens--more wisteria and azaleas. At the end of the driveway, rising four stories high into the needled branches of the tall pines was the castellated center rotunda of the Pine Forest Inn--my accommodation for the next couple of days.

My carriage pulled up to the Inn's steps. Five horse riders sauntered past. I stepped off, paid the gentleman, and ascended the flight of stairs. The front piazza was impressive. Wider in the middle, it extended out on each side of the rotunda the full length of the building and ended in a hexagonal shape on the corners. Patrons were scattered about the piazza on chairs enjoying the southern exposure and their afternoon tea--likely made from tea leaves grown locally at the renowned Pinehurst Tea Plantation of Dr. Charles Shepard. I read about it in a magazine on the train. I had a tour of the Pinehurst Tea Garden scheduled for tomorrow.

Upon entering the impressive building, two smiling ladies curtsied as I passed. I acknowledged their genteel gesture with a smile and a tip of my hat. The front entrance hall ran the full length of the rotunda. It was majestic. Arched walls set upon pillars divided the rotunda foyer from other sections. A grand staircase led to the upper floors where thick, wooden hand rails wrapped around the open upper floors. As I walked it, I estimated it to be 47 feet from front to back. Large, oak mantled fireplaces with marble hearths and exotic plants were placed strategically throughout the spacious lobby. Rocking chairs were scattered about. At the rear entrance, another long piazza served a huge three-sided courtyard.

I checked in at the desk. A double-chinned, spectacle wearing hotel clerk greeted me with a smile and a southern, "Good afternoon." I informed him of my two-day reservation. After signing the necessary papers, he rattled off some of the amenities. "There is an Amusement Hall with a bowling alley and billiard tables, two lawn tennis courts, croquet grounds, 18 hole golf course, swimming pool and a livery with 60 horses." I touched the brim of my hat and nodded my head, "Thank you." "Your welcome, Sir," and he then added, "Would you like some help with your bag, Sir?" I declined the offer. Then, he directed my attention to a tray at the end of the counter holding crystal glasses and a matching pitcher full of an iced, amber colored mixture. "Help yourself to a glass of freshly brewed Summerville sweet tea, Sir." I poured a glass and took a sip. "Interestingly tasty," I corroborated.

I turned and boarded the electric elevator that serviced the three upper floors--each floor with its own lobby and its share of the 150 suites and singles. As we slowly ascended, I engaged the elevator operator in some small talk. He willingly and gladly complied with some quick tips about Summerville. I was assigned a single on the second floor at $5 a night.

I entered the room. Large windows bathed the interior with an abundance of warm sunlight and provided an excellent view of the outside grounds below. Steam radiators lined the exterior walls. A painting of Drayton Hall hung above an elaborately carved mantle. I placed my suitcase next to the open fireplace and set the empty crystal glass on a marble topped table next to the room's large, cherry poster bed. The comfortably appointed room also included a private bath and an electric bell connected to the general office for personal service. I emptied my suitcase and freshened up a bit before setting out to further familiarize myself with the Inn's appointments.

After another short ride on the elevator, I was back to the main lobby. I curiously peaked into the adjacent dining room. Paneled in southern curly pine, the complimentary woodwork was elegant. Divided into three sections by wooden arches and comfortably filled with beautiful table settings, it seated 250 people. An American flag hung from the chandeliered ceiling. It was near 3:35 pm according to a nearby grandfather clock. The brunch crowd had already dispersed to other suitable areas. The dining room staff was busy making preparations for the evening meal.

Other common rooms included a large, main floor parlor, ladies private parlors with toilet rooms, reception rooms, library, reading room, sun parlor with exotic plants, wine and smoking rooms, and a Rocking Chair Room. Similar to the dining room, all were paneled with southern curly pine.

Women sitting in the sun parlor engaged in chit-chat centered around their families and social events. Some of them rocked baby carriages with their feet while doing needlework. They all wore fancy hats and long, lacy dresses--the ankle reveal was socially frowned upon. Gathered in the wine and smoking room, men in suits debated the latest news and talked about their golf game. The Rocking Chair Room fascinated me the most. I could never resist the invitation of a rocking chair. I would venture to say there were about a hundred chairs. Thirty, by my estimations, presently occupied. It was the right occasion for some self indulgence.

The seconds quietly ticked away with each back and forth motion. The seconds ticked into minutes. I pulled out my pocket watch. It was 4:45 pm. My restful thoughts turned to dinner. I contemplated the pleasure of indulging in the highly acclaimed blue ribbon cuisine the Inn was famous for. The first class chefs were advertised as preparing their culinary delights with ingredients gathered from local gardens along with meat and seafood delivered fresh by train from Charleston and New York markets.

After dinner, perhaps I would share a glass of wine with Florence Nightingale Graham in the wine room, shoot some billiards with Dr. Shepard or discuss literature with Edna St. Vincent Millay in the library. Tomorrow, attend a fox hunt on Ingleside with Teddy Roosevelt.

After all, this was the illustrious Pine Forest Inn of Summerville, where the imagination had no boundaries.

(Pictures taken from "Images of America-Summerville" by Jerry Crotty and Margaret Ann Michels.)