One hundred fifty years ago, the Holy City was at a fever pitch. The conflict between north and South was about to burst into flames. As the sequicentennial observance of the War Between the States approaches, Charleston Inside/Out recalls a few events leading to its outbreak on April 12, 1861, when the guns of Charleston bombarded Fort Sumter. We touch upon selected incidents from the preceding five year period, including some of special significance to Charleston and South Carolina, especially the obscure story of the first shots fired by rebels against the union.

The conflict between north and south had raged for decades. The Missouri Compromise, reached in 1820, was supposed to restrict the spread of slavery, but it was repealed in 1854 by the Kansas-nebraska Act. Our focus begins with the turbulent year 1856. In May of that year, Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner delivered his “Crime against Kansas” speech, denouncing South Carolina Senator Andrew Pickens Butler, of Edgefield District, for supporting the Kansas-nebraska Act. Butler’s cousin, Congressman Preston Brooks, also of Edgefield District, sought vindication by caning Sumner unconscious on the Senate floor, incapacitating him for three years. A majority in the House of Representatives voted to expel Brooks, but the motion failed for lack of the required two thirds. Even so, Brooks resigned his seat, and returned home, where he was re-elected in July with all of the nearly 8,000 votes cast, except one ballot that was left blank. The new Republican Party, founded to oppose slavery in the territories, made a strong showing in the national election of 1856. In April, 1857, the U.S. Supreme Court, in the Dred Scott case, held that Congress could not forbid slavery in the territories and, therefore, the Missouri Compromise unconstitutional. In 1858, South Carolina Senator James H. Hammond declared on the floor of the Senate: “no power on earth dares make war on (cotton). Cotton is King.” In 1859, John Brown and a few followers, financed by northern abolitionists, raided the federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, virginia, intending to incite a slave rebellion. Southerners feared that black majorities, if freed, would turn on their former masters and butcher them, as had occurred in Haiti. In the Charleston Mercury, Robert Barnwell Rhett, an avid proponent of disunion, compared Brown’s foray to nat Turner’s massacre of virginians some thirty years earlier. A new Charleston vigilance Association was formed to monitor slaves, free blacks, and “traitorous” whites. Extreme extra legal methods were employed. One writer, Walter Fraser, has observed that “Charleston more closely resembled a police state than any other city in the nation.”

“South Carolina is too small to be a Republic, and too large to be an insane asylum.”

In April, 1860, the once dominant Democratic Party convened at Institution Hall on Meeting Street, just north of Broad Street, but, hopelessly divided between northern and Southern wings, soon disbanded. Rhett’s Mercury declared that the break up of the only party pretending to be national left the union with nothing “to arrest the fierce collisions” between north and south. The national Democrats later convened in Baltimore and nominated StephenA. Douglas. Southern Democrats nominated John C. Breckenridge. In the meantime, the Republicans nominated and united behind Abraham Lincoln. Although many South Carolina leaders did not favor disunion, the tide was so strong that almost all of them adopted the position that the state would secede if Lincoln was elected. One longtime unionist, the prominent lawyer, James L. Petigru, a former Attorney General of South Carolina, condemned the mounting hysteria. Addressing a group of secessionists, he uttered the classic comment: “South Carolina is too small to be a Republic, and too large to be an insane asylum.”

In november, 1860, when the presidential election results were confirmed, the General Assembly authorized and appointed a Secession Convention. On December 20, 1860, in Institute Hall, 169 delegates unanimously adopted the Ordinance of Secession from the union. An ecstatic celebration followed in Charleston.

Meanwhile, Major Robert Anderson commanded a 73-man federal garrison at Ft. Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island. Concerned about an attack by land, in the night of December 26, Major Anderson removed his entire troop to Fort Sumter, a large incomplete fort located on a man-made island in the harbor, three and a half miles from the city. South Carolina Gov. Pickens demanded that Anderson quit Ft. Sumter and return to Ft. Moultrie. It was claimed that U. S. President Buchanan, trying to maintain peace, had entered an unwritten agreement with former Governor William Henry Gist not to send reinforcements to Ft. Sumter. South Carolina forces then occupied Ft. Moultrie and established artillery batteries there and on Sullivan’s, Morris and James Islands.

RAISIN' CANE: In 1856, South Carolina Congressman Preston Brooks (right) stormed the Senate to beat Charles Sumner of Massachusetts (left) with a cane.

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Citadel Cadets were recalled from Christmas vacation to construct and man a battery on the northern end of Morris Island to command the channel. On January 1, 1861, Major Peter F. Stevens (Citadel ’49), accompanied by a detachment of about fifty cadets and four 24-pounder siege guns, proceeded by steamer to Morris Island.

Lame duck President Buchanan attempted to reinforce Major Anderson on Ft. Sumter without a furor. Believing that a merchant vessel would not draw fire, he authorized men and materials to be sent from New York on board the Star of the West, an unarmed merchant steamer under contract to the War Department.    With 200 men, powder, shells, and food supplies on board, the steamer left New York harbor on January 5th. Despite precautions to keep the expedition a secret, news of the expedition leaked out of Washington, D. C. South Carolina officials were warned of the mission by telegraph and determined to prevent the ship from reaching Ft. Sumter. When he learned of the expedition, Buchanan’s Secretary of Interior, Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi, angrily resigned, feeling betrayed because he had assured Southern friends that no additional troops would be sent to Ft. Sumter.

The Star of the West arrived off the darkened Charleston harbor about midnight. Near daylight on January 9th, the steamer was spotted in the harbor by a South Carolina patrol steamer, which then sailed up the main channel ahead of the alien ship, firing rockets to alert troops on the surrounding islands. Citadel Cadet William Stewart Simkins, of Beaufort, walking his guard on Morris Island, noticed the flares and then, through the fog, spied the Star of the West in the main channel, which ran close to Morris Island for some distance. The cadets were summoned to their station on gun no. 1. As the ship moved into range, Maj. Stewart hesitated, then gave the order: “Commence Firing”. Cadet George Edward “Tuck” Haynsworth, a First Classman from Sumter, yanked the lanyard on No. 1 to fire the first shot of the impending war across her bow. As the Star of the West continued up the channel, additional guns were fired from Morris Island, and then batteries from Ft. Moultrie and Sullivan’s Island joined in, forcing her to retreat, leaving Ft. Sumter unreinforced.

An uneasy peace ensued until after the inauguration of President Lincoln in March, 1861 and the assumption of military command in Charleston by Confederate General P. G. T. Beauregard. After intense bombardment, Ft. Sumter went up in flames, and Maj. Anderson surrendered Ft. Sumter on April 14, 1861. Once again church bells rang, and Charleston celebrated.

Whether it goes by the name Damariscotta, or Cotuit, or Rappahannock River, an oyster harvested from this side of the Atlantic is always the same animal, Crassostrea virginica. But more than most edible organisms, the Atlantic oyster seems to express most vividly on the plate the conditions of its growth–its terroir, in wine parlance. Shell shape, color, flavor and texture all vary widely from place to place, as the underwater environment changes. In the Lowcountry, and particularly the Folly River, oysters grow into long, atten- uated shapes, in clusters that reach like torches out of the water at low tide. The local oyster isn’t expensive–in fact, most restaurants avoid it–but it tastes better (meatier, gamier, like a pluff -mud cocktail) than any we’ve encountered up and down the East Coast. We served the legendarily critical Travel Channel gourmand Anthony Bourdain his first Charleston oyster at a roast on Edisto Island, and his reaction was the most effusively positive expression he’s ever allowed on his show.

Along the South Carolina coast, cooking oysters outdoors is so much a part of life that even the camellia-curling frosts of deep winter don’t drive people inside. When October hits, we root around in the toolshed for our oyster knives and gloves, preparing for the first oyster roast of a fall and winter that typically brings a dozen invitations. Cooking oysters Lowcountry-style couldn’t be simpler: build a roaring fire on level ground, and set a trestle made of four cinder blocks and a sturdy sheet of scrap steel over it, to serve as an extra- large griddle. When the metal is searing hot, you shovel on a layer of oysters and blanket them with water-soaked burlap bags or old towels. The oysters roast and steam in their shells and acquire hints of the wood smoke that swirls in thick gusts around the enterprise. Five to 10 minutes later, you remove the towels and shovel the oysters onto a rustic table scattered with gloves and knives, so the guests can gather around to shuck and slurp down the briny treats.

Much of the perfection of this style of oyster roast can be replicated indoors. A simple broiling pan with a third of an inch of water in the bottom is the perfect method for steaming them open, and six minutes at 475 degrees produces the best results, with most of the oysters nicely half-cooked, their shells opened slightly and easy to shuck. none of the oysters will overcook and a few will remain uncooked but hot, the fishy and minerally flavors of the oyster pleasantly inten- sified, compared with its chilled, raw state.

The aromatherapy element of the outdoor wood- fired roast can be approximated by placing a tray of a quarter-cup of wet apple-wood smoking chips on the bottom shelf of the oven, to produce an outdoorsy scent.

Cover the table with a protective layer of newspaper — the salmon-tinted Charleston Mercury looks best — and set out pairs of oyster knives, dishrags and thick, blue dishwashing gloves. The gloves provide a measure of protection from the sharp oyster shells and along with the knives serve as party favors.

Oven-Roasted Oysters

Time: 45 minutes

• 100 to 120 unshucked oysters, scrubbed clean
• 6 small lemons, cut into wedges
• Tabasco, or other pepper sauce
• Sour orange mignonette (see recipe).

1. Heat oven to 475 degrees. Working in batches, arrange oysters in a single layer in a 12-by-16-inch roasting pan fitted with a flat rack. Pour 1/3. inch of hot tap water into pan, and bake for 7 minutes, or until oyster shells have begun to open.

2. Using gloves or tongs, transfer oysters to a table covered in newspaper for guests to shuck, garnish and eat while next batch cooks. Add water to pan as necessary, and repeat roasting until all oysters have been served, about 45 minutes. Serve with lemon wedges hot sauce, and sour orange mignonette.

Sour Orange Mignonette

Time: 30 minutes’ refrigeration
Yield: 2 cups, enough for 120 oysters.

• 1 3/4 cups Seville orange juice (about 8 oranges; substitute a blend of orange and lemon juice if you can’t find sour oranges)
• 1/4 cup Champagne vinegar
• 2 large shallots, finely chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar.

Whisk ingredients together in a small bowl until sugar dissolves. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in refrigerator for half an hour.

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Ham Morrison – Race Car Driver
I love getting on a boat with my wife and my dogs. I’m a member at Freedom Boat Club so I rent, its great, no hassle and cheaper than boat slip. In town, the Charleston Tea Company on Ann Street is a good place for a non-alcoholic refreshment. D’Allesandros for very cold beer; Oak Steakhouse, for a good margarita.

Michael Rabin – Restauranteur (Andolini’s and Juanita Greenberg’s)
How do I stay cool? I stay away from ovens… If someone visits me, I take them restaurant hopping, and to the Ladson Flea Market, I never miss a weekend.

Anna Linesch – Baking assistant Sugar Bake Shop & Charleston Cooks and quiche maker for Hope and Union.
In the summer I ride my bike everywhere to catch a nice breeze. And you have to dress for it…nothing with color. Everything is flowey and short… the least clothes possible. I don’t know, with the heat you have to embrace it, have a mojito and some fresh salsa in a bathing suit. Good tank tops? Hampden Clothing and American Apparel are good spots.

Cyrus Buffum – Charleston Water Keeper
I look at different pollutions that are effecting our water so I am out on the water and in the sun a lot. I like the rivers…the Wando and Ashley. When you get up past the industries in those hidden tidal creeks, especially if you are there early in the morning, the water is just flat calm and its you and your surroundings…its gorgeous.

David and Ivy Sheppard - founders of the band South Carolina Broadcasters
We play fiddle, guitar, banjo and sing “Old Time” music which is any country-type music before bluegrass, mostly from the 20s, 30s and the civil war. In the summer. We like to dress up in 1920‘s wool gabordine and play old time music. You can hear us at the farmer’s market and at Piccolo Spoleto.

Maurice Davis – Training to be a professional runner
I’m vegetarian, in the summer, for energy, I like to eat at Daily Dose on James Island… the ‘oh my goodness’ with rice, beans and avocados is my favorite, and I drink a lot coconut water from Earthfare.

Travis Jervey - Former running back for Greenbay, The 49ers and the Falcons. Now runs a football camp & coaches at Wando.
In Greenbay it was so cold, they would say ‘put your cows in a low lying valley so their ears and tails don’t fall off.’ Now I’m home and married with two kids. We go to Sullivan’s or Isle of Palms, then Taco Bell for bean burritos… perfect hot weather food….6 burritos for $4.34…The key is not to get a drink. Training for the Super Bowl we would take ice baths for soar muscles. Sit in a bathtub full of ice for twelve minutes. That will bring your body temperature way down.

Mama Kim (Kim Onam Brown) – Owner of Mama Kim’s restaurant
I’m in my kitchen all the time. In the summer, I put apple and cucumber in my water and keep working. If I had a day off, I would go to Kiawah and sit under an umbrella on the beach.

Drew Fuller - actor/artist. (the famous Trevor LaBlanc on Army Wives filmed here in Charleston.)
I go to the Terrace theatre, what better way to beat the heat! The type of movies you can see there are the type that really inspire me. Charleston has some of the best golfing…I play anywhere they let me on… Rivertown, Kiawah. And, I surf as much as I can, its okay, its not great but its better than nothing… Folly is like El Porto (L.A. surf break) without waves.

Charlestonians say the confluence of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers forms the Atlantic Ocean. Students in South Carolina schools learn in state history class that the rivers are named for Anthony Ashley Cooper, who was one of “the Eight Lords Proprietors.” However, it is not usually taught that the “Province of Carolina” (from the Latin “Carolus” for Charles) was conceived in regicide and almost stillborn. We take a look back at the times and the profile of “Lord Ashley,” as he came to be known.

By 1640, Europe was embroiled in bitter religious strife between emerging Protestants, with notions of reviving classical republican governance, and entrenched Roman Catholic monarchies, for the establishment (read “appropriation”) of colonies around the world. In 1642, Civil war broke out in Great Britain between Royalists and Parliamentarians, resulting in the execution of King Charles I and the flight of his heir, Charles II, to exile in Amsterdam.

Anthony Ashley Cooper, a wily politician of the era, was flexible enough to change with the prevailing winds. He was a member of the House of Commons during the Long Parliament from 1640 until 1660. In the Civil War, he fought as a Royalist, then switched to the Parliamentary side in 1644. He was a member of the Rump Parliament that arranged for the trial and execution of Charles I in 1649. Then, he served not only on the Council of State during the Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell (1653 -1658) but also, in 1660, in the Convention Parliament that determined to restore the monarchy. He was one of twelve MP’s who travelled to the Dutch Republic to invite Charles II to resume the throne. Shortly before his coronation, Charles II made him Lord Ashley Cooper, 1st Earl of Shaftsbury. Lord Ashley then moved from the House of Commons to the House of Lords in 1661 and served the crown as Chancellor of the Exchequer from 1661 to 1672 and later as Lord Chancellor of England.

At the time of Charles II’s restoration, England had colonies in the Caribbean, Canada, New England, and Virginia, even though much of the new world was claimed by Spain, Portugal, France, the Dutch Republic, and others. The English crown had no legitimate title to the continent of North America, which perhaps made it easier for Charles II to grant a huge territory to his political allies.

On March 24, 1663, as a reward to eight key supporters of the restoration, Charles II issued a charter, whose first article contained the following florid introduction:

The grant covered a vast area, including what is today North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and lands westward to the Pacific Ocean, which, however, was not necessarily of great value or importance at the time. In fact, the birth of the colony was slow and uncertain, as the Proprietors, although “excited with a laudable and pious zeal,” were for a long time unwilling to risk significant investment in the venture. None of them ever visited South Carolina. The colony probably would not have materialized without the strong interest of Lord Ashley. Ashley finally convinced the others to make relatively modest commitments that financed the voyage of the first group of about 90 settlers, who founded Charles Towne in 1670 on the south side of the Ashley River (the site now known as the “Charles Towne Landing”).

Within a few years, the settlers were joined by colonists from Barbados. The settlement was later moved to the safety of Oyster Point, on the peninsula between the two rivers, where the old section of the Holy City (re-named “Charleston”) now stands. Its street plan was specified by Lord Ashley. In 1680, the first French Huguenot refugees arrived. The settlement grew more rapidly than other settlements in Carolina due in large part to a superior harbor and easy access to trade with the West Indies. It became the principal seat of government for the entire province.

One of the most important aspects of the life of Lord Ashley was his relationship with the now famous philosopher, John Locke, who was to become his personal physician and secretary. In 1669 Lord Ashley and Locke drafted The Fundamental Constitutions of Carolina, which provided a climate of tolerance that greatly affected Charleston’s early development and led to immigration of such diverse groups of dissenters as French Huguenots, Baptists, English Presbyterians, and Sephardic Jews.

William Bates– designer, architectural historian, paint sleuth – gets a new coat.

When he began renovating his 1830’s home on Mall Park in Charleston’s east side neighborhood several years ago, he faced a big task. Moving to Charleston in 2005 to found the Architectural Drawing and Design department at the American College of the Building Arts he purchased a house on Mall Park in Charleston’s eastside neighborhood, he not only wanted to restore the house correctly and historically but also bring things up to modern standards. The house had no roof, no windows and had been abandoned for 10 years. The job required major structural and interior work to bring things back to their former glory. On went the air filter. Out came the sledge. And the toothbrush.

Bates knew that demolitions done wrong mean history lost. Following an architectural Hippocratic oath, he avoided doing harm where he could, but went further to preserve evidence of what had to change.

While Bates sweated all the details – original floor boards, reproduction hardware, handcrafted plaster ceilings – he took special care when it came to paint. Standard demolition tosses whole walls in the dumpster. Bates harvested and saved scraps of wall and trim, plaster and wood. He then started peeling layers from these historic onions to trace a story of color.

Bates was familiar with the groundbreaking work of the Historic Charleston Foundation, which has catalogued historic hues for use in restorations. Bates used similar painstaking technique, gently sanding and flaking paint from his samples, tracking and documenting the progression of color layers. He was curious if the palette of the east side – a neighborhood established by free blacks and merchants – differed from that found downtown.

He made several striking discoveries. First was a pattern of paint coats going from light to dark to darkest through time, then resetting with a light shade and again getting darker. The sequence may have owed to the omnispresent dirt and smoke that coated the homes of those who cooked and heated with wood. Maybe people let things go as long as they could, then set things light. Another interesting discovery: painted oak patterning on the interior doors, recalling trompe l’oeil techniques found downtown.

BATES HARVESTED AND SAVED SCRAPS OF WALL AND TRIM, PLASTER AND WOOD. HE THEN STARTED PEELING LAYERS FROM THESE HISTORIC ONIONS TO TRACE A STORY OF COLOR.

Not content with his own efforts, Bates then took things to a higher level. He sent his samples scraps to researchers for physical and chemical testing. They used microscopes and ultraviolet light to determine the types of paints used, date of application and their “true” color. Where Bates had matched layers with color samples visually, the researchers produced a thick report brimming with testing data. The appendix contains images of cross-sectioned samples, the strata of painted olive, beige and maroons tightly stacked like a mutant mufelata.

Bates hopes that his story will encourage those who refurbish Charleston houses to preserve what cultural evidence they can, rather than sending it all away to Bee’s Ferry landfill. Scraps of walls, shutters, frames, ceiling – all hold clues of how structures were built and looked, and how people lived in them. Even scraps found in the attic could prove valuable down the road, like his discovery of some of the original wooden shingles under new roofing material. Keeping these fragments onsite preserves the link between the material and its source, a key part of the historic puzzle.

William Bates painted swatches to match the painted layers he discovered on pieces of original wall and trim.

Bates provided his paint report to the Board of Architectural Review for inclusion in his property’s permanent file. There, it will serve as reference for those piecing together Charleston’s evolving palette through time. The historic record is important even if inhabitants choose different colors in their homes going forward, notes Bates. Once lost, it is gone forever.

That philosophy informs his teaching at the American College of the Building Arts, where he founded the Architectural Drawing and Design Department. Students are schooled in classical architectural forms, as well as ancient techniques in stone carving, timber framing, carpentry, ironworking and masonry. These foundations serve as the building blocks for lifelong learning. “It’s useful to know Latin,” says Bates, “even if you don’t plan to speak it. Classical architecture should provide a framework for all built work.”

From the bottom left:

Personalized oyster knives ($19.95 including engraving) at Croghan’s or at Green Lion Gifts (beside Whole Foods). Engraving takes 2 days.

The Charleston Butt Grabber (i.e. meat flipper) bought to you by the folks who made the Charleston Hooker. The plaque on the handle states the name. Find it at Gwynn’s or Indigo Home $49.50

Sweet Teeth Artisian Chocolates made locally. Pictured here in popping Ginger, cinnamon apple, peanut butter chipolte, and salted caramel. Pick them up at Plum Elements.

Sea Island Rum from the makers of Sweet Tea Vodka available at local liquor stores

Steel Palmetto Moon Votive handmade by local artist $24 at Indigo (#4 Vendue Range, Charleston or www.indigohome.com).

Simple Fresh Southern, Matt and Ted Lee’s second book is filled with pictures and top notch recipes.

Dear Charleston. This documentary shot in 1980 captures Charleston before the real estate boom and is replete with footage of memorable natives. Pick one up at the Historic Preservation Society on Lower King Street.

Chef Craig Deihl of Cypress cures his own meat and began offering quarterly shares delivered to your home this year. He has a few quarter shares left which are a great bargain ($54). Call Cypress while supplies last!

If you haven’t tried Carolina Gold Rice yet, take it home as a treat. It is a treat! Available at the Green Grocer stand of the farmer’s market

by David White

In case our readers are not surfeited on the recent flood of Kennedy reportage, Charleston Inside Out revisits the story of the future president and a Danish femme fatale in the Holy City, as recounted by Nigel Hamilton, English author of JFK: Reckless Youth, (Random House, 1992).

The story begins in the nation’s capital as winds of war were gathering in 1941. Ensign Jack Kennedy, US Navy Intelligence, age 24, was stationed in DC, where he met a very blonde Danish beauty, four years older and much worldlier than he. Her maiden name was Inga Arvad. At age 16, Inga had been crowned Beauty Queen of Denmark. As a news correspondent in the 1930’s, Inga had travelled to Berlin and became acquainted with Himmler, Goering, Goebbels, and Rudolph Hess, not to mention Adolph Hitler, who described her as “a perfect example of a Nordic beauty.” She spoke and wrote in four languages.

Inga migrated to the US with her second husband, Paul Fejos, a World War I Hungarian cavalry officer (who also happened to have a medical degree). He lived mostly in Hollywood as an émigré film maker, while Inga remained in New York and later moved to Washington to become a correspondent for the Times Herald. Ensign Kennedy met her through his sister Kathleen and was captivated. In short order, he became a frequent overnight guest at her apartment on 16th Street.

The star-crossed lovers were unaware that their phone calls had been taped, their room at the Fort Sumter Hotel bugged and their tryst recorded by the FBI.

Unbeknown to the star-crossed lovers, Inga was suspected by the FBI of being a Nazi spy and was the subject of close surveillance under the personal supervision of Director J. Edgar Hoover, who is said to have briefed FDR on her case.

On January 12, 1942, Walter Winchell’s widely read syndicated gossip column jeered: “One of Ex-Ambassador Kennedy’s eligible sons is the target of a Washington columnist’s affections. So much so she has consulted her barrister about divorcing her exploring groom. Pa Kennedy no like.” (Ambassador Joe Kennedy’s pre-war tolerance of Nazi Germany did not suit FDR, and he was back in the US, planning the careers of his sons.) Within 24 hours after Winchell broke the story, an anxious naval command caused the Ensign to be transferred (some said, banished) to the Charleston naval base. He rented a private brick home on Murray Avenue, not far from the Fort Sumter Hotel, and sported a 1940 Buick convertible around town.

Neither the opposition of Ambassador Joe nor the machinations of the federal government could keep the passionate couple separated. Inga visited Charleston several times, checking into Room 132 at the Fort
Sumter on Friday, February 6, 1942, using the pseudonym, “Barbara White,” where she and the Ensign spent a long night, unaware that their telephone calls had been taped, the room bugged, and their tryst recorded by the FBI, whose agent also trailed them the next day as they attended Mass at the Catholic Cathedral on Broad Street and window shopped at Shindler’s antique store on King Street.

Inga evidently appreciated Charleston, recalling in one letter the tiny streets, the beautiful old iron gates, and the drive to Middleton Gardens. The Ensign was not happy here, mostly because he was frustrated with his desk job. He was desperate to get out. He wanted action.

Inga’s final visit to the Ensign in Charleston was the weekend of February 22nd. By then, aware that he had been under surveillance by naval security at the Fort Sumter, Jack arranged a room for her at the Francis Marion under the name of “Barbara Smith.” Once again the room was bugged, and FBI agents reported that “the subject was quite worried [about pregnancy] as a result of her two previous trips to Charleston . . .”
Jack made a rushed trip to Washington on February 28 for a final visit with Inga at her apartment. Hamilton observes: “. . . Jack’s friends . . . knew, his relationship with Inga was much more than an amour. From Jack’s reluctant heart an extraordinary woman – part siren, part mother, part heroine – teased out the only admission of profound love Jack would ever make . . .” But, alas, it was not to be. As Hamilton observed: “The ex-ambassador’s master plan for Jack, however, was not one that would ever include Inga. Though they remained lovers, it soon became clear that Jack was not proposing to marry her.” In the meantime, unbeknown to the Ensign, Inga had resumed a liaison with an old Danish boyfriend, Nils Blok, who was making overnight visits to the 16th Street apartment.

Somehow, this much documented romance, flaming in the heart of the Holy City for those few weeks after Pearl Harbor, has been little noted in South Carolina. For example, no whisper of it was uttered fifteen years later when the glamorous, unmarried P. T. Boat hero, then a young Senator from Massachusetts, addressed the graduating class of 1957 on the horseshoe of the University of South Carolina. He didn’t tell us he had worshipped at the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist, let alone about love down among the sheltering palmettos.

by David White

Ever wondered about the red dots that decorate liquor stores in South Carolina? It should be no surprise that they originated here in the Holy City, which has always been the imbibers’ state capital. Here’s the story: Beginning in the 1880’s strong tides of prohibitionist sentiment were flowing in South Carolina, largely backed by upcountry fundamentalist “drys”and opposed by “wets,” more concentrated in the low country, especially the port city of Charleston. In 1892, the “drys” won a statewide referendum that would have prohibited the sale of alcoholic beverages in the state but for adoption of the “dispensary system,” advocated by Governor “Pitchfork Ben” Tillman and passed in a rush vote at 5:30 a.m. on December 24, 1892, the last day of the legislative session . Under the dispensary system, the state had a monopoly on bottling and distributing all liquors sold in South Carolina. (To this day, S. C. Dispensary embossed bottles, e. g. “jo-jo” and “unionflasks,” are valuable collector’s items.)

The owner of this establishment, The Tavern on East Bay, claims this is the oldest liquor store in the United States.

The system was regarded as corrupt, and drys continued to push for total prohibition. In 1904, the legislature abolished the dispensary system and established local option, i. e. any county that voted to remain wet had its own dispensary. But the party ended in 1915, when the drys won a statewide referendum by a two-to-one margin.

The same ill wind blew across the nation, resulting in adoption of the 18^th Amendment to the U. S. Constitution, which took effect on January 29, 1920, ushering in the colorful era of Prohibition that lasted until the amendment was repealed on December 5, 1933.

After the repeal, flagrant storefront advertising of newly opened liquor stores incited the ire of South Carolina’s virulent drys. In 1937, the South Carolina Tax Commission banned all signs at liquor stores except a discrete reference to the business being conducted, the dealer’s name and license number. In 1945, the legislature enacted a requirement that any letters on storefront signs could be no higher than six inches or wider than four. The Tax Commission further restricted the dimensions and location of signs. Enter Jesse J. Fabian, owner of a successful liquor store at the corner of King and Spring Streets in Charleston, and Cade Alford “Doc” Wamsley, a local sign painter. Fabian engaged Wamsley to paint his sign to comply with the new regulations, both of them thinking the letters were way too small. Wamsley then conceived the inspired idea to highlight the tiny letters with a circular red background, like the logo then found on packs of Lucky Strike cigarettes. Thus was created the red dot that was widely copied and flourished until 1968. In that year, following another victory of the drys in a 1966 referendum, the newly created Alcohol Beverage Control Commission banned red dots as forbidden advertising. A storm of protest ensued, and the legislature adopted the law that permits the standard crimson circle now found on the exterior walls and metal signs marking package stores.

This piece is borrowed in part from an article by John Hammond Moore entitled “Solving the Red Dot Mystery,” published in the spring, 2000 edition of Sandlapper, the Magazine of South Carolina.

The story of “brown bagging,” and the eventual permitting of mixed drinks in South Carolina is beyond the scope of this article; but suffice it to say that Charleston was also the pioneer in that liberating social movement.

The site of a crucial Civil War battle in the defense of Charleston on June 16, 1862, Secessionville today is a quiet neighborhood in suburban James Island. For that reason, the Battle of Secessionville is reenacted, not on-site, but miles away at Boone Hall Plantation, where there is more room for the gallant commemorators to maneuver.

Despite the nostalgia, the real thing was more guts than glory, as war usually is.

Early in the war, Federal forces took Port Royal and Beaufort, and the Confederates knew it was a matter of time before an attack on our city was made. Charleston had become the “Cradle of Secession,” for here was signed the Ordinance by which South Carolina became the first state to leave the Union. As a result the Union Army may have viewed Charleston as a prize. To safeguard the city, a rough ring of fortifications was hastily erected around it.

The area’s terrain assisted in the city’s defense, particularly at Secessionville, which had been a planters’ summer village and was situated on a small oblong peninsula on the southeast side of James Island. (The name Secessionville itself actually had little to do with the Civil War. It had been adopted some years earlier when the founders “seceded” from the older summer village of Centerville on James Island.)

The same geography that made Secessionville healthy also made it easy to fortify. Early in 1862, earthworks, roughly in the shape of an “M,” were erected across the narrow neck of the peninsula, with emplacements for howitzers and other guns. A multi-storied observation tower lent to the defense’s designation as the Tower Battery. The battery was still incomplete when, in June of 1862, Union soldiers landed and occupied the southern tip of James Island.

Naturally, the Confederate gunners at the Tower Battery delighted in lobbing shells into the Union encampment, and naturally that gave the Union commander, Brig. Gen. Henry W. Benham, an excuse to stage a “reconnaissance in force.” The Tower Battery was manned at the time by a small force, mainly of gunners and engineers. The Union attack, at 4 a.m. on June 16, was meant to be a surprise, but the Confederates had set out pickets. The alarm was sounded, a message was sent and infantry reinforcements arrived via a footbridge connecting the tip of the peninsula with the main part of James Island.

What ensued was a bloodbath lasting three and a half hours, a vicious, sometimes hand-to-hand fight. The Confederates, numbering about 1,250, had 52 men killed and 144 wounded, the latter including the battery commander, Lt. Col. Thomas G. Lamar. The Union force had superior numbers —about 3,500 troops committed to the assault, but also greater casualties— 683 killed or wounded. After the battle, the Confederates found the bodies of more than 300 Union soldiers in the field in front of the battery. They buried them in a mass grave after stripping them of their weapons, boots, and even buttons. Many had been blown apart by cannon fire, others were killed by small arms. One Confederate sharpshooter was credited with killing 30 Union soldiers. The desperate defenders used anything at hand, including whisky bottles. But the battery held, and the Union retreated.

General Benham was court marshaled for his role in the Union defeat. Colonel Lamar later died of a fever and the site was renamed Fort Lamar in his honor. Most of the earthworks are still there, protected as part of a National Register historic district, and the site was marked by an obelisk monument in 2003.

The Union never again attacked Secessionville. The capture of Charleston was delayed until February of 1865. Some historians conclude that had Secessionville fallen, Charleston swiftly would have followed, and the bloody war might have ended much sooner.