Urban Planning of Chas. – Streets, sidewalks, drains and treei
i Urban Planning of Chas. – Streets, sidewalks, drains and tree
Sunday, June 20, 2021
Routes from Fort 96 to Charlestoni
Express Riders, the fastest travelers, “routinely made the 300-mile journey between Charleston and Fort Prince George in six or seven days, and the additional 150 miles over the mountains to Fort Loudoun in a further five to seven days, depending on the weather.” So, 50 miles per day on flat terrain, 25 miles per day through the mountains.
i Route – 96 to Charleston
Colonial SC Parishes
1706 – 1793: Parishes and political subdivisions in SCi
i 1706 – 1793: Parishes and political subdivisions in SC
Postal
1754 – 1792: Postal ops in SCi
i 1754 – 1792: Postal ops in SC
In seventeenth century America, before the creation of a postal system, if you wanted to send a letter to a nearby friend or to a distant relative across the ocean, you had a choice of two different types of services. The first choice I’ll call a “closed network” (for lack of a better term—I haven’t found any historical literature that examines this topic). A “closed network” is a series of contacts that are known and familiar to both the sender and the recipient. If you wanted to send a letter to your mother who lived several miles down the road, for example, you might entrust the letter to a sibling, a spouse, a friend, a servant, or (in early South Carolina) a slave. If your correspondent lived some greater distance away, say, in New York or London, you might ask a friend or relative, who happened to be going in that direction, to personally deliver your letter. In such cases, your letter traveled free of charge and stayed within a series of familiar hands. Alternatively, if you needed to send a letter, but didn’t have a friend heading in the right direction, you would use what we might call an “open network,” which involved your letter passing through a series of hands who were unknown to you before it reached its destination. Someone had to pay for this service, of course, either at the front end of the transaction, or at the end of the network, where your letter was received, or both. This informal network of people carrying letters for strangers in return for a small fee, eventually coalesced into what we now call the postal system.
The Public House and Post Office:
In the earliest days of American colonies, “public houses” such as taverns or coffee houses were the information hubs of every community. In a port town like Charleston, information about the outside world arrived by way of ships from distant lands. While on shore, ship captains would frequently use local taverns as their business offices. By bringing stories, gossip, and, later, newspapers to their favorite watering hole, ship captains helped taverns attract customers who wanted to hear the latest information from abroad and to discuss business and politics with their peers. More importantly, ship captains would also place mail bags in taverns and offer to carry letters to their next ports-of-call. If a ship captain happened to be carrying a letter for you, sent by distant correspondent, it was your responsibility to pay the captain for his trouble. This was the scene at hundreds of taverns across the Atlantic world in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the bigger cities, the tavern scene was even more specialized. On Birchin Lane, in the heart of London, for example, there was a business called the Carolina Coffee House. From the earliest days of Carolina in the 1670s into the early 1800s, the Carolina Coffee House was the place to meet ship captains headed to or just arrived from Charleston. If you wanted the hear the latest news about Carolina or had letters to send to family or friends there, you went to the Carolina Coffee House.
By 1754, Post office being run out of Peter Timothy's print shop.
In 1763, immediately after the conclusion of our latest war with France and Spain, the British postal service began planning another expansion of its colonial packet boat service. The northern branch, sailing between Falmouth and New York, remained unchanged, but in 1764 the route of the southern branch was altered to include Charleston and Britain’s new possessions in Florida. This new service involved three 140-ton packet boats, each manned with eighteen hands (London Gazette, 28 January 1764). Two years later, in the spring of 1766, the British government added two 170-ton packet boats to this route to ensure that his majesty’s colonies overseas would enjoy a monthly mail service (see the South-Carolina Gazette and Country Journal, 3 June 1766).
As South Carolina’s economy and population boomed in the 1760s, so too did our volume of mail, and so we began to garner even more attention from crown officials back in England. In late 1768, the king’s Postmaster General initiated a new, monthly packet service that sailed directly between Falmouth and Charleston, carrying mail for the provinces of South Carolina, North Carolina, Georgia, and East Florida. Four vessels were assigned to this route, which commenced in early 1769: Swallow, Eagle, Earl of Sandwich, and Le DeSpencer (the last two ships named for John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, and Francis Dashwood, 11th Baron le DeSpencer, who jointly held the office of His Majesty’s Postmaster General).
The passage from Falmouth to Charleston took anywhere from six to nine weeks, but by dispatching one packet boat on a fixed date each month, the goal was to ensure that Charleston would receive the latest news from England at least once a month. Once the packet mail bags arrived in Charleston, the local postmaster would carefully inventory their contents, separate the mail destined for our neighboring colonies, and hand the appropriate sub-packets to post riders who then galloped to the north and to the south along the King’s Highway.
Postal ops generallyi
iPostal Operations of the British Government
The English government dabbled with establishing a national postal system in the early 1600s, but it wasn’t until the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660 that the concept of “Royal Mail” began to take root in a legal sense. Their early system encompassed only the country of England, but here in North America, our various provincial governments began imitating the English model. By the end of the seventeenth century, each of the American colonies had an officially-designated letter depot, or post office, but there was no official inter-colony service until a bit later.
The earliest English settlements in New England commenced in the 1620s, and within a few decades there was a system of rudimentary roads, or at least riding paths, connecting the various northern colonies. In 1673, the governors of both New York and Pennsylvania created post offices to facilitate a monthly mail service along a road stretching from Boston, Massachusetts, to Annapolis, Maryland. Because this road, really more of a horse path, was maintained with government funds, it became known as “the King’s highway.” Along this public highway, men riding on horseback carried mail bags from one end of the road to the other, stopping at towns along the way to pick up and deposit mail. It wasn’t until more than a century later, years after the American Revolution, that the volume of mail increased to the point that it needed to be carried by wagons or coaches.
Following the creation of the North American post office in New York, in conformity to the postal law of 1710, the big challenge for the North American postmaster was to improve the existing New England post road and connect it to Virginia. The southern colonies of Virginia and the Carolinas had smaller populations than those up north, however, and our people were scattered among rural plantations instead of clustered in towns like in New England. The idea of connecting the King’s Highway to Charleston was part of the government’s plan, but it remained a low priority for many years. From the perspective of government officials back in London and merchants in Charleston, South Carolina was more closely aligned with the Caribbean sphere of communication and trade.
In 1753 after the death of Elliot Benger, the Postmaster General, Franklin was appointed Postmaster General of America, a post he shared with William Hunter. During his employment he toured all the northern colonies to survey post roads and post offices establishing more efficient routes. He traveled a total of 1,600 miles. In order to improve delivery time he had riders carry mail during night and day.
Although Franklin did not invent it, he designed an odometer and attached it to the front wheel of the letter carriage, the odometer measured the number of revolutions of the wheel. Each revolution was counted by dials and by the end of the trip the mailman would know the distance traveled by multiplying the number of revolutions by the circumference of the wheel. That way Franklin determined which routes were the quickest. He determined postal rates based on distance and weight and were standardized for all colonies. He also mandated the delivery of newspapers for a small fee. His improvements turned the American Post Offices profitable for the first time.
Franklin remained Postmaster General until 1774. After the Hutchinson Affair Franklin was judged too sympathetic to the colonies and was dismissed from his post.
Mail Packet Boats from 1710 – One of the most important features of the British postal law of 1710, and its subsequent revisions, was the appropriation of money to fund a small fleet of packet boats. More than just a simple sail boat, the packet was a medium-sized, ocean-going vessel designed for speed and efficiency rather than for cargo. A packet boat might carry a few passengers and a bit of cargo, but its main purpose was to transport mail and other small “packets” or packages on a regular timetable. While a cargo ship might linger at port until her hull was full, however long that might take, a packet boat was expected to depart and arrive on a set schedule. In accordance with the 1710 postal law, the first government-sponsored packet boats provided a weekly service between the regional post offices in Dublin and Edinburgh with the central post office in London.
What about connecting the central post office in London with the regional postal headquarters in New York and the West Indies? In the first half of the eighteenth century, it appears that there wasn’t a sufficient volume of mail to induce the British postal system to appropriate money for a fleet of trans-Atlantic and inter-colony packet boats. Instead, the government relied on the customary practice of using private ship captains to carry mail bags from port to port. To encourage ship captains to participate in the system created by the 1710 postal act, the British government authorized colonial postmasters to pay ship captains one penny for every letter delivered to the official post office in the colony where they arrived. To ensure accountability, the law required ship captains to make a list of the letters they carried and to deliver said list to the local postmaster, who was also required to make a list of all incoming letters and the names of the persons to whom the letters were delivered. Eventually this duty would be executed by packet boat captains in coordination with colonial postmasters, but in the meantime, this public-private partnership endured for many decades.
In the autumn of 1755, the British government announced the beginning of an expanded trans-Atlantic packet boat service (see the London Gazette, 25 October 1755). Commencing in 1756, there were two fleets and two branches, one servicing the northern colonies in America, and another connecting Britain’s southernmost colonies. Each month, a northern packet boat departed Falmouth, England, and sailed directly to New York, carrying mail for all of his majesty’s colonies in North America. From the main post office in New York, mail was distributed to the post office in each colony by way of the post road, or King’s Highway. Because that highway didn’t yet extend to Charleston, however, this new and improved postal service had no impact on South Carolina. Meanwhile, the southern branch of the new packet service departed Falmouth monthly and delivered mail to Barbados, Antigua, Monserrat, Nevis, St. Kitts, and Jamaica, before returning to Falmouth. In the mid-1750s, the two Carolinas and Georgia were simply too thinly populated to merit inclusion in the British government’s expanded packet boat service. While other colonies benefitted from improved mail transport, we continued to rely on the old practice of private ship captains carrying mail bags from port to port.
In 1763, immediately after the conclusion of our latest war with France and Spain, the British postal service began planning another expansion of its colonial packet boat service. The northern branch, sailing between Falmouth and New York, remained unchanged, but in 1764 the route of the southern branch was altered to include Charleston and Britain’s new possessions in Florida. This new service involved three 140-ton packet boats, each manned with eighteen hands (London Gazette, 28 January 1764). Two years later, in the spring of 1766, the British government added two 170-ton packet boats to this route to ensure that his majesty’s colonies overseas would enjoy a monthly mail service (see the South-Carolina Gazette and Country Journal, 3 June 1766).
Royal Forces in Charleston incl Ft. Johnson
King controls Fort Johnsoni
Fort Johnson was a frontier military outpost, separate and independent of any town, the King reserved the right to appoint a governor or commander to superintend the fort. The King’s first appointee, Capt. James Sutherland, died in early 1741, and Lt. Governor William Bull appointed John Pennefather as the fort’s interim commandant. In his four-and-a-half year tenure in that position, Capt. Pennefather was a steadfast, diligent, and honest guardian of the entranceway to Charleston harbor, and handled many delicate negotiations with Spanish ships that came here to exchange prisoners during the conflict known as the War of Jenkins’ Ear. When the king’s next appointee for the post, Mr. John Lloyd, arrived at Fort Johnson in the summer of 1745, John Pennefather dutifully resigned his position, received the thanks of our governor and all his troops, and disappeared into obscurity.
King's Birthdays & Counting Years in Reign
George II birthday – 30 Oct. 1683 (old style) and Date of Acension – 11 June 1727 (old style)
George III birthday – 4 June 1738 (new style) and Date of Acension – 25 Oct. 1760
1752 -- New New Years Day vs. Lady Day
New Year Jan. 1 vs Lady Day March 25 – [See entry for 1752]
1 Jan. 1752: Switch from Julian to Gregorian Calendar and switch counting a New Year on Lady Day (Annunciation of Mary) on 25 March to January 1.i
Colonial SC War on Predatory Animals
1693-1790 Fauna – the war on predatorsi
i 1693-1790 Fauna – the war on predators
Modern discussions about the conservation of South Carolina’s natural wildlife tend to focus on the protection of animals and habitats that have declined over the generations as a result of human encroachment. In contrast, we hear less about the conservation of indigenous predators because so few now inhabit our fields and forests. The scarcity of wolves, panthers, bears, and bobcats in the Palmetto State is not a recent development, however. Their absence is due to a century-long campaign of violence launched in the early days of the colony, when Carolina’s provincial government declared war against “beasts of prey.”
To understand the historical context for South Carolina’s sustained campaign against indigenous predators, it’s important to recall the invasive nature of the settlement that commenced here in 1670. European colonists found on this shore a landscape rich in natural resources and teaming with animal life. Rather than observing the lifestyles of the indigenous peoples and adapting to local conditions, however, the incoming settlers chose to disrupt the existing ecosystem by transplanting a new world order. European ideas about land use began to reshape the landscape, and the introduction of foreign crops and new domesticated animals disrupted delicate natural balances. As this invasive process spread and matured, the indigenous populations of people and animals either fled, adapted, or perished. Those that resisted or thwarted the expansion of colonial settlement faced dire consequences. In this context, South Carolina’s natural predators found themselves in the crosshairs of history.
In an effort to secure the natural landscape for colonial settlement, South Carolina’s early government enacted a series of laws between 1693 and 1790 to encourage the destruction of what they called “beasts of prey.” These laws offered cash bounties for the heads of “lions,” “tygers,” wolves, bears, and wildcats that menaced the spread of colonial habitations, animal husbandry, and plantation agriculture. The hunters participating in this activity included white settlers and Native American allies, as well as enslaved men of African descent. Their efforts commenced within the earliest European settlements along the Atlantic coastline and gradually spread westward to the Piedmont. By the end of the eighteenth century, hunters had successfully rid the state of its indigenous predators, who were hunted to extirpation, or local extinction.
South Carolina’s protracted war on wild predators targeted indigenous animals that preyed on imported domesticated livestock and whose presence in the wilderness discouraged planters from pushing westward into the interior of the colony and state. Although colonial-era planters sustained losses from a variety of native species, they consistently identified panthers, wolves, bears, and bobcats as the principal and most dangerous offenders. The vernacular terminology used to describe these beasts in the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was not as precise as modern biological taxonomy, however, and therefore leaves some room for interpretation.
Colonial-era descriptions of bears and wildcats in South Carolina, for example, no doubt point to the American black bear (Ursus americanus) and the common bobcat (Lynx rufus), while the identification of the wolf in question is less certain.
None of the extant government records include descriptors that might facilitate a distinction between the common gray wolf (Canis lupus) and the southeastern red wolf (Canis lupus rufus). A Swiss immigrant living at New Windsor on the Savannah River in 1753 described the native wolf as being “not as large and strong as those in Europe,” which might point to the latter subspecies. The lack of physical remains of these eighteenth-century animals, combined with their successful extirpation from the state before the nineteenth century, now render it difficult to settle the question conclusively.
More problematic is the identification of the larger member of the feline family. Between 1693 and 1744, the government of South Carolina consistently used the Old-World terms “lion” and “tiger” (also “tyger”) interchangeably to describe a New-World counterpart that we would now call a cougar or panther. The state’s final campaign against beasts of prey, enacted in 1786, employed the more accurate term “panther,” but the precise identity of the species in question remains unclear. As with the wolf, the lack of extant remains from the period before the nineteenth century renders it difficult to discern whether it was the common North American cougar (Puma concolor couguar) or perhaps a distinct and now forgotten subspecies, like the Florida panther (Puma concolor coryi).
South Carolina’s colonial campaign to drive natural predators away from domestic farming was shaped by a unique set of local conditions, but the concept behind it was not new. The practice of systematically hunting beasts of prey to extirpation was part of an ancient defensive strategy extending back to the dawn of civilization. From the Classical world of ancient Greece and Rome to the Middle Ages across Europe, a number of principalities and kingdoms offered hunters bounty money to destroy wolves that harassed flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. Driven by incentives offered in statute laws, hunters eradicated wolves from England, Scotland, and Ireland, in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, respectively.
[Butler estimates based on the surviving financial records of annual appropriations that South Carolina hunters destroyed at least 10,000 and perhaps as many as 20,000 beasts of prey over the course of the eighteenth century, largely removing them from the colony permanantly. The law said that if you showed up with the head of a proscribed predator, you would earn a payment from the state of x amount – said amount being 2x for whites and their slaves, x for Indians.]
. . . .
The preamble to the new statute noted that “it is become necessary to give some encouragement to have beasts of prey destroyed, which of late have been very destructive to the stocks of cattle, sheep and hogs, in this province.” For the first time since the beginning of the war on native predators, the 1744 bounty statute specified the geographic range of the hunting in question. It offered bounties to “all and every person and persons whoever, that shall hereafter kill in this province, within one hundred and fifty miles of Charlestown, or within the Welsh Tract upon Pedee [sic], any of the beasts of prey hereinafter mentioned.” A revised schedule of bounties, again rendered in “proclamation money,” more clearly articulated the government’s priorities. For a “tiger,” the government offered eight shillings (6 shillings sterling, or £2.2.0 S.C. currency); for a wolf, six shillings (£.0.4.6 sterling, or £1.11.6 S.C. currency); and for a bear or wild cat, four shillings (£0.3.0 sterling, or £1.1.0 S.C. currency). Like the previous statute, the 1744 law directed hunters to “carry the scalp with the two ears of such beast of prey, fresh,” to a justice of the peace and “give sufficient proof” that the said animals were “killed within the limits aforesaid.” The magistrates were empowered to give hunters the customary certificate to be presented to the public treasurer in Charleston, who would provide payment.
. . . .
After the American Revolution, planters and farmers across South Carolina repaired their property and continued the state’s westward expansion into the Piedmont region that was formerly reserved to the Cherokee Nation. The incursion of natural predators into settlements new and old soon inspired the revival of the colonial bounty system. On March 11th, 1786, the state legislature ratified a new version of the familiar statute “to encourage the destroying beasts of prey.” Its preamble explained that such encouragement was necessary because the customary predators had recently “been very mischievous to some of the interior parts of the state.” To address their unwelcome predations, the state government offered to “every person and persons whatever” ten shillings (sterling) for each wolf and each “panther or tiger,” but only five shillings for a “wildcat.” For reasons not explained at the time, bears no longer appeared on the bounty list.
The method of paying the bounty in 1786 was similar to that prescribed in 1733 and 1744, but now less geographically restrictive. It required hunters to present “the scalp with the two ears of such beasts of prey fresh” to “any one justice of the peace within the state” and to provide sufficient proof “that such beast was killed within this state.” As customary, the magistrate was empowered to create a certificate that the hunter could present to the state treasurer. As a new feature, the statue of 1786 stated that such certificate for bounty money “shall be discountable for the public taxes of this state with the collector thereof.” In other words, hunters could pay some or all of their annual state taxes by destroying beasts of prey anywhere within the state.
. . .
South Carolina’s long campaign against beasts of prey reached a quiet conclusion near the end of the eighteenth century. The intermittent war had commenced within the swamps and savannas of the coastal plain at the beginning of the century, migrated to the new interior townships during the 1730s and 1740s, and finally concluded on the rolling hills of the western Piedmont. By 1790, wolves, panthers, bears, and bobcats were effectively extirpated from the Palmetto State.
Libertas, Liberty Pole, Liberty Tree, John Wilkes and the Sons of Liberty
Libertas, Liberty Pole, Liberty Tree, John Wilkes and the Sons of Libertyi
Libertas
Libertas, the Goddess of Liberty became an object of Roman veneration when the people of Rome rebelled against the Roman monarchy, overthowing the tyrant King Tarquin the Proud and establishing the Roman Republic, circa 509 B.C. Thus, Libertas became associated from the start with Republican government. During the Roman Republic, Libertas also became associated with individual freedom and the act of manumission of slaves. As described at Wiki:
Libertas was associated with the pileus, commonly worn by the freed slave:
Among the Romans the cap of felt was the emblem of liberty. When a slave obtained his freedom he had his head shaved, and wore instead of his hair an undyed pileus . . . Hence the phrase servos ad pileum vocare is a summons to liberty, by which slaves were frequently called upon to take up arms with a promise of liberty . . . "The figure of Liberty on some of the coins of Antoninus Pius, struck A.D. 145, holds this cap in the right hand".
Libertas was also recognized in ancient Rome by the rod . . . used ceremonially in the act of Manumissio vindicta, Latin for 'freedom by the rod' (emphasis added):
The master brought his slave before the magistratus, and stated the grounds (causa) of the intended manumission. "The lictor of the magistratus laid a rod (festuca) on the head of the slave, accompanied with certain formal words, in which he declared that he was a free man ex Jure Quiritium", that is, "vindicavit in libertatem". The master in the meantime held the slave, and after he had pronounced the words "hunc hominem liberum volo," he turned him round (momento turbinis exit Marcus Dama . . .) and let him go (emisit e manu, or misit manu, . . . ), whence the general name of the act of manumission. The magistratus then declared him to be free [...]
Note that Libertas stands as one of our great monuments in New York – The Statue of Liberty, dressed in her Roman robes.
Liberty Pole and John Wilkes
The “liberty pole” became itself a separate symbol of liberty, tying back to the Goddess Libertas. The rod used in manumission adorned with the felt cap was a symbol of freedom from slavery. When dissident Senators assassinated Julius Caeser in 44 B.C. because he had become a dictator, they marched through the streets thereafter, carrying a felt hat (a “cap of liberty”) atop a spear.
After the Rennasaince, the Liberty Pole became a common means of depicting individual and political liberty. In colonial America of the 1760's, the single most famous example of a person suffering a tyrant's persecution was John Wilkes, the publisher unlawfully prosecuted by King George III ostensibly for blasphemy, but actually for daring to criticize the King. Here, in a satirical portrait of John Wilkes by William Hogarth in 1764, shows Wilkes sitting with a Liberty Pole leaning against him.
Issac Barre and the “Sons of Liberty”
Issac Barre was a British military officer who served extensively in North America during the French and Indian War, He suffered a debilitating and disfiguring wound at the Battle of Quebec, causing the loss of his right eye. Barre, a Whig, was later elected a member of Parliament, where he became a staunch and eloquent supporter of American colonists. His perception of Britain's American colonists could not have been more accurate. It was Barre who gave the name of “sons of liberty” to those Americans protesting the 1765 Stamp Act, during an exchange before Parliament with Charles Townshend, an MP who supported the Stamp Act:
Mr Townshend: “Will these Americans, children planted by our care, nourished by our indulgence till they are grown up to a degree of strength and opulence, and protected by our arms… will they grudge to contribute to relieve us from the heavy burden under which we lie?”
Mr Barre: “[Were] they planted by your care? No! Your oppression planted them in America. They fled from your tyranny to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, where they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships to which human nature is liable, and among others to the cruelties of a savage foe, the most subtle, and I take upon me to say, the most formidable of any people upon the face of God’s earth…
[Were] they nourished by your indulgence? They grew by your neglect of them. As soon as you began to care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons to rule over them, in one department and another… sent to spy out their liberty, to misrepresent their actions and to prey upon them; men whose behaviour on many occasions has caused the blood of these sons of liberty to recoil within them… [emphasis added]
[Were] they protected by your arms? They have nobly taken up arms in your defence, they have exerted a valour amidst their constant and laborious industry for the defence of a country whose frontier, while drenched in blood, its interior parts have yielded all its little savings to your emolument [compensation].
The [American] people, I believe, are as truly loyal as any subjects the king has. But they are a people jealous of their liberties and who will vindicate them if ever they should be violated; but the subject is too delicate and I will say no more.”
Barre's famous phrase, the “sons of liberty,” was soon adopted in America, first by a group of Bostonians opposed to the Stamp Act, and then by like groups in every one of the North American colonies.
Liberty Trees
The Liberty Tree was an invention of the American colonists. The first “Sons of Liberty” organization in Boston chose “an old elm tree at the corner of what is now Essex and Washington Streets [in Boston] as the site of their first protest. . . . A few weeks later, a copper plate appeared on the tree, declaring it the “Tree of Liberty.”” Soon, virtually every “Sons of Liberty” organization held their meetings – when not in a tavern – under their own “Liberty Tree.”
In Charleston, S.C., the "Liberty Tree" was “a majestic live oak” located in the boroughs outside of Charleston proper. Specifically:
“large live-oak tree, in Mr. Mazyck’s pasture.” A similar pair of newspaper notices published in 1769 both identified Liberty Tree as standing “in Mr. Mazyck’s pasture.” . . .
Mr. Mazyck’s pasture was a large parcel of land on the east side of the Charleston peninsula, adjacent to the Cooper River, that was owned by the Mazyck family between the 1690s and the 1790s. At this point, I could dive into the long history of the Mazyck property that eventually became Mazyckborough, but I’ll resist the temptation and save that conversation for another time. For the moment, I’ll simply note that Mr. Mazyck’s pasture encompassed all the land now bounded on the south by Calhoun Street, on the north by Chapel Street, on the west by Elizabeth Street, and on the east by the Cooper River. Christopher Gadsden (1724–1805) purchased in 1758 the land immediately to the south of Mazyck’s pasture, now covered by the Gaillard Center for the Performing Arts and Gadsden’s Wharf. A tidal inlet flowing westward from the Cooper River once formed a natural boundary between the lands Mr. Mazyck and Mr. Gadsden. That inlet is now the eastern part of Calhoun Street, right in front of the Charleston County Public Library’s main branch, and still tends to flood during heavy rains at high tide.
Both Mazyck’s pasture and Gadsden’s Green, as it was once called, stood outside the original boundaries of urban Charleston until the creation of Boundary (now Calhoun) Street in 1769–70. That thoroughfare created a new boundary between the town and what was then called “the Neck.” From that point forward, Mr. Gadsden’s property, including what would become Gadsden’s Wharf, were technically within the unincorporated limits of Charleston proper, while Mr. Mazyck’s pasture remained outside the town. Knowledge of this information helps us to understand a subtle but useful geographic clue contained within a colonial-era source.
The two earliest published notices of events at Liberty Tree, dating from October 1768, both mention that the men who gathered there returned to Charleston by way of King Street. At that time, there were no thoroughfares in the neighborhood. Meeting Street terminated at Boundary Street prior to 1785 (see Episode No. 81). The tidal inlet that once formed part of Calhoun Street prevented traffic from flowing north and south along what is now Alexander Street and from Elizabeth to Anson Street. King Street, called the “Broad Path” immediately outside the town, was the only road leading in and out of the colonial capital. To reach Liberty Tree in the 1760s and 1770s, therefore, most Charlestonians would have travelled north on King Street and passed through the Horn Work. Turning east just outside the town gate, they could have walked in a straight line that is now Charlotte Street approximately 2,200 feet through Mr. Wragg’s pasture into Mr. Mazyck’s pasture. Unless they arrived by boat from the Cooper River, their return to town would have followed the same route in reverse.
. . . . Alexander Street to witness the unveiling of a handsome bronze tablet containing a brief text commemorating the famous tree. To this day, it remains affixed to a brick column near the façade of No. 80 Alexander Street, opposite the rear driveway of the Charleston County Public Library.
Like his father before him, Rev. John Johnson probably grew up hearing stories about Liberty Tree and his family’s active participation in the struggle for American independence. It’s not unreasonable to think that Doctor Johnson might have taken his son to see the site of the famous tree near the corner of Charlotte and Alexander Streets. At the turn of the twentieth century, Rev. Johnson might have described to his colleagues how his uncle, William Johnson, had excavated its roots at the turn of the nineteenth century. Informed by these family traditions and documentation in 1905, the Sons of the Revolution selected what I believe is a remarkably appropriate site for their bronze marker. Considering the streetscape of modern Mazyckborough, it stands at a logical spot for such a public memorial, approximately one hundred and forty feet west-southwest of the tree’s former location.
Tavern Signs
Tavern Signsi
Tavern Signs
Along the Broad Path leading into Charleston (now King Street), there were several inns, as they were sometimes called, identified by their distinctive signs posted along the road. During the era of the Cherokee War, country visitors could find a room and a stable for their horses at the sign of the Bear, the sign of the Crown, the sign of the White Horse, or the sign of the Peacock.
Note: See Williamsburg Podcast.
Hurricane Season in Charleston
Hurricane Season is June 1 to Nov. 30, w/the midpoint, Sept 1, being the most common time for bad storms.
Vultures, Dogs and the Markets of Charleston
Vultures, Dogs and the Markets of Charlestoni
More commonly found in the Lowcountry of South Carolina is the black-headed Black Vulture (Coragyps atratus), a large scavenging bird that has been a common sight in urban Charleston since colonial times. They were once so common in the city that locals frequently referred to them, in a half-joking manner, as “Charleston eagles.”
Black Vultures are scavenging birds indigenous to the Lowcountry, so they witnessed the arrival of the first European settlers and enslaved Africans who arrived in South Carolina in the late 1600s. As Charleston grew from a village to a town to a city, vultures lived on the fringes of the human settlement and feasted on our trash and leftovers. A German physician, Johann Schoepf, visiting Charleston in the spring of 1784 made the following observation:
“Nowhere are buzzards to be seen in such numbers as in and about the City of Charleston. Since they live only on carrion, no harm is done [to] them; they eat up what sloth has not removed out of the way, and so have a great part in maintaining cleanliness and keeping off unwholesome vapors from dead beasts and filth. Their sense of smell is keen, as also is their sight; hence nothing goes unremarked of them, that may serve as food, and one sees them everywhere in the streets. There are those who believe that if a buzzard lights upon a house in which an ill man lies, it is a fatal sign for they imagine the bird has wind of the corpse already.”
Dr. Schoepf observed that vultures performed a sort of civic service by removing trash and were therefore tolerated, or at least not molested or discouraged by the human population. In the eighteenth century, however, the vultures weren’t particularly associated with any of the marketplaces of urban Charleston.
Before the city government consolidated the sale of vegetables, seafood, and meat in Market Street in 1807, market waste was mostly thrown from the wharves at the east end of Tradd Street and the east end of Queen Street into the Cooper River. From the late 1730s to 1796, the city’s official Beef Market was located away from the water, however, at the northeast corner of Meeting and Broad Streets. Here butchers chopped up the carcasses of animals that had been slaughtered outside the city limits, before being brought by wagons to the Beef Market. So what happened to their meat scraps—did the butchers toss them to the vultures? Apparently not. In all of my extensive reading of early Charleston newspapers, I haven’t come across any complaints or accounts of vultures at the Beef Market, or any other marketplace of eighteenth-century Charleston. Instead, the butchers of early Charleston brought their dogs to the market every day, and the butchers’ dogs kept the market area free of unwanted meat scraps, or offal, as it was usually called.
Tuesday, June 15, 2021
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