Separating the sick from the healthy has been a part of Charleston’s public health policy since 1698, when our provincial government instituted a novel quarantine policy for incoming ships. Over the ensuing 250 years, local authorities enacted a series of evolving and occasionally contentious quarantine laws that impacted nearly every immigrant and visitor who entered Charleston harbor until 1949.
Charlestonians were shocked to find a local magistrate at the center of an illegal black dance raided by police in 1795. William Cunnington defended his honor by publishing a narrative of the soirée, but historians have misinterpreted this intriguing story. Forgotten for more than two centuries, Cunnington’s text provides a valuable and entertaining glimpse of life in early Charleston.
The sounds of an illegal nocturnal “negro dance” in an East Bay residence in November 1795 aroused the wrath of local authorities who dispersed a party of mixed-race revelers. Meanwhile, a respected white citizen at the center of this merry scene was vilified by his neighbors and a shade of scandal still looms over his reputation today.
Under the shadow of the Great War in 1918, Charleston was ill-equipped to counter a major health crisis when influenza spread throughout the community in a wave of acute sickness and death. Quarantine, isolation, and volunteer efforts soon arrested the disease, however, and the city rebounded from its first modern epidemic with a lamentable but limited death toll.
Yamboo was an African Muslim whose faith helped him endure a life of servitude in 18th-century South Carolina. His brief autobiography, published in 1790, provides valuable evidence of Islam among this region’s enslaved population as well a rare narrative of the journey from Africa and his struggle for survival and dignity in the face of oppression.
Between 1720 and 1775, a succession of British warships anchored in Charleston to protect the port’s valuable trade and to assist His Majesty’s government. Their presence forms a significant part of South Carolina’s maritime history that is not well remembered on these shores. Today we’ll jog the collective memory with an overview of this important nautical topic.
Can you put a monetary value on your freedom? South Carolina’s early laws trapped enslaved people in a life of servitude, but a handful of them managed to generate sufficient cash to buy their own freedom. Today we’ll explore the phenomenon of self-purchase and review a few cases of men and women whose perseverance unlocked the yoke of slavery.
The laws of early South Carolina allowed slave owners to set free an unknown number of men, women, and children with little or no interference from the government. Today we’ll explore the phenomenon of private manumission from the colonial era to the legislative interventions of the early nineteenth century that restricted and finally prohibited this traditional practice.
On several occasions between 1708 and 1822, the South Carolina General Assembly purchased the freedom of enslaved people who had performed remarkable acts of public service. These public manumissions were not simply altruistic expressions of gratitude, but also the calculated efforts of nervous white lawmakers to cultivate feelings of loyalty within the enslaved majority population.
Freedom and slavery were the opposing states of being that defined the lives of most early Charlestonians, but our community also hosted a small population of people who lived between those legal poles. The city’s “free people of color” enjoyed a modicum of liberty, but the law viewed their skin color and ancestry as a bar from full civil rights.
From the 1670s to the 1830s, the Carolina Coffee House in London’s Birchin Lane served as the epicenter for conversations about this colony and state, its opportunities and challenges, and its residents. To better understand its important role in Charleston’s past, let’s review the history of this old coffee shop and take a virtual stroll through Birchin Lane.
The phrase “Holy City” is often used to describe Charleston’s deep history of religious freedom and diversity. Contrary to popular belief, however, early South Carolinians did not enjoy the liberty of conscience that we take for granted today. In this program, we’ll consider the systematic religious discrimination that once legally divided the people of this community.
The secret confederacy that formed in November 1719 assembled as an elected Convention of the people that December. In a showdown with the proprietary government, the Convention staged a bloodless coup d’etat that unhinged the colony’s political landscape. Born of frustration with the Lords Proprietors, the Revolution of 1719 was won at the end of a musket barrel and crowned by the royal approval of King George.
Frustrated by years of neglect and contrary government, the citizens of South Carolina asserted their political will in the closing months of 1719 by organizing a rebellious confederacy that descended on Charleston to seize the reins of power. It was a contest enacted exclusively by white men, but the outcome affected the entire population of the faltering colony. Today we’ll follow the chain of events that precipitated the political and military revolt that forms one of the most important, but ...
South Carolina was an English colony for its first century, but that era was marked by two contrasting periods characterized by different administrations: An initial “proprietary” era gave way to a “royal” government after a rebellion in 1719. To help us appreciate the impact of that uprising, let’s compare the two forms of colonial oversight that motivated one of the most important incidents in our state’s history.
Here in Charleston, we share a number of Christmas customs with communities near and far, but how deep are the Lowcountry roots of our modern holiday traditions? Today we’ll examine a few historic holiday anecdotes that are sure to please and might even serve as morsels of polite dinner conversation during the upcoming Christmas season.
Shade-tree history is on my mind this Arbor Day. While some people want to uproot the grand oaks bordering our scenic highways, others have defended the venerable trees from the ravages of modernity. The moss-draped canopy they provide isn’t just picturesque; it’s the manifestation of an ancient law rooted in protecting travelers from highway robbers in Medieval England.
The area called Harleston Village is one of the oldest neighborhoods on the Charleston peninsula, but the present definition of its boundaries differs from its original identity. From colonial grant to bucolic pasture to profitable subdivision, Harleston was annexed into urban Charleston in 1770 and evolved into a desirable address, though it was never technically a village.
Charleston’s newest library is nestled in a quiet setting that belies the depth and drama of its long history. From Native-American stomping grounds to fertile plantation, from bloody battlefield, to civil rights success, today we’ll surf through the pages of the past to follow a rich narrative that forms an important part our community’s shared history.
Veterans Day is a holiday created in the twentieth century, but its roots date back to the dawn of the United States. Today we’ll use the story of one veteran’s family—the wife and children of the famous Sergeant William Jasper—to trace the evolution of local, state, and national efforts to assist the survivors our nation’s brave defenders.
Thomas J. Mackey did not shoot the sheriff, but he shot at him during a meeting of Charleston’s City Council in October 1869. The community condemned the morphine-fueled assault, but justice was not served. In the turbulent world of Reconstruction-era politics, it was easier to sweep a violent assault under the proverbial rug than to disrupt the status quo.
Debate within Charleston’s City Council is sometimes harsh, but never as acrimonious as the night in 1869 when arguing aldermen drew pistols to settle a dispute. We’ll begin this real-life tale of drugs, liquor, bullets, and rage by profiling the elected gunmen, uncovering the roots of their disagreement, and following the scene of mayhem at City Hall.
Hampstead Village is a downtown neighborhood better known today as the heart of Charleston’s “East Side.” Created in 1769, it has endured a series of ups and downs that transformed it into Charleston’s most diverse and densely populated neighborhood. To better understand its challenges and potential, let’s review Hampstead’s history and its long struggle for dignity and survival.
The mayor of Charleston is a prestigious officer who commands respect throughout our community, but that hasn’t always been the case. Nearly two centuries ago, the city’s executive evolved from a nearly powerless, part-time, unsalaried intendant, to a powerful, full-time, salaried mayor. Today we’ll compare and contrast those titles and trace the gradual accretion of powers that define 21st-century Charleston’s most visible citizen.
Sentenced to hang in 1747, Elizabeth McQueen cried out for mercy from the Charleston jail. Her personal grief and Indian customs had been misrepresented as willful murder. Reviewing the facts of her case, the governor and his advisors were drawn into the chasm between patriarchal law and the realities of a woman’s life on the colonial frontier.
Accused of having murdered her newborn child, Elizabeth McQueen was arrested and transported to Charleston to stand trial in 1747. Contemporary documents allow us to reconstruct many of the experiences she endured, from incarceration within the prison under the care of a hot-tempered marshal, to the colony’s makeshift courtroom in a tavern where a brief trial condemned her to an ignominious death.
When an unmarried young woman of Native American ancestry lost a newborn child in 1747, her white neighbors on the South Carolina frontier interpreted her grief as a mask for clandestine guilt and summoned the law. Today we’ll begin to reconstruct the story of Elizabeth McQueen’s journey from “innocence and sobriety” to arrest, humiliation, and incarceration in colonial Charleston.
Charleston was once the most active marketplace for enslaved people in North America. While incoming Africans were sold from the vessels that brought them, enslaved people already living in the Lowcountry during the colonial era were commonly sold at at a long-forgotten, open-air auction site within the heart of Charleston known as “the usual place.”
The arrival of more than 150,000 African captives before 1808 forms one of the most important themes in Charleston’s history, but there are many details about this traffic that remain obscure. To acknowledge the suffering and legacy of those people, many people wish to retrace their first footsteps here. But where did they stand when they were sold into a life of slavery in Charleston?
Indigo forms an important part of the early history of the South Carolina Lowcountry. Although its memory flourishes today, lingering misconceptions have distorted our general understanding of the story. In an effort to help “grow” this colorful conversation, I’ve crafted a series of questions and responses that address some points of indigo history that every Charlestonian should know.
