On Saturday morning we drove to Charleston, South Carolina. I think most of the pictures from this day are on Abe’s phone, which I can’t find at the moment. (It is 4am and I have been up for hours because I drank too much coffee today and could not sleep, so I’m catching up the blog five days later.)
On the way down we listened to two podcasts from the Charleston Time Machine. One was about the history of pirates in Charleston, and the other was about the rise of slave marts during the 1840’s and 50’s. Before that time slaves were sold openly on the streets. The auctions clogged up roads and looked bad to visitors from the north, so eventually the city’s government felt ashamed enough to try to clean up the appearance of slavery in the streets. Instead of addressing the problem of slavery to clean up its appearance, they decided to build marts so that the auctions could be held indoors–away from public view. This did not sit well with slave traders, and for the next two decades there was a constant flip-flopping of rules about where to sell slaves.
During this trip Abe and I keep discussing the problem with people getting caught up in superficial things like appearances. My appreciation for people of substance, character and integrity has deepened a lot while we have explored what happens when individuals and societies exploit other people for money, power and status. I think the desire to look good to others naturally occurs in most people, but people who recognize this in themselves and discipline their response to this desire have my deepest respect.
After arriving in Charleston, we ate lunch downtown and then walked to the Aiken-Rhett house, the home of a major Charleston slave owner. The audio tour of the grounds included a very moving section on the slave quarters.
Abe and I took turns keeping an eye on Ammon and Clarissa but both found time to complete the audio tour. Lydia and Mary were also both completely absorbed in the tour, and we let them exercise their independence exploring the house and grounds while we lagged behind them.
Ammon and Clarissa both did a scavenger hunt the house provided. Ammon was obsessed with finding everything on the hunt. Clarissa, though less personally addicted to the thrill of finding the objects of the hunt, nevertheless took her cues from Ammon and filled out her pages too.
After the tour we drove to the French Quarter where the kids marveled at the enormous draft horses. Then we all took a ghost tour of the city. The guide led us to the city dungeon and told us all about its history with pirates and the American revolution. Charleston is where Stede Bonnet, the “gentleman pirate,” was executed. We were standing next to the wall where his head was then displayed while we learned the grisly details of his story.
We also saw a part of the dungeon where American patriots hid powder from the British. Although the British ended up taking Charleston, they never found the powder. I also learned that the Americans in Charleston had their own patriotic tea party, but instead of dumping it all in the harbor they only dumped one box–and then they sold the rest to fund the revolution. Clever.
After the dungeon we walked to a park by the bay and the guide told us ghost stories about a huband-wife serial killer team who lived during colonial times, as well as about the execution of a woman who had escaped the Salem witch trials–only to be burned at the stake in Charleston by Judge Trotter (the same judge who executed Stede Bonnet).
Walking around Charleston felt almost like walking around a different country. The fingerprints of enslaved children can still be seen on the bricks in the sidewalks and on buildlings, and everywhere seemed to remind us of the time when Charleston was the heart of the slave-holding, secessionist South. It is a pretty city, but its history made that beauty disquieting.
When we finished the tour we spent what felt like an hour trying to find an open restaurant that didn’t have an hour-long wait. We finally settled on an oyster house across the street from a city market. The kids are crazy about shrimp and Clarissa could not get enough shellfish. Then we walked over to a candy shop for some locally made pralines before heading over to the Hyatt in Mt. Pleasant for some sleep.