Capitol Lost

Friday, June 28, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments

NORTH CAROLINA STATE CAPITOL  
Raleigh, NC

In our quest to visit state capitol buildings, we arrived in the planned city of Raleigh seeking the North Carolina state house.  What we found is, there really isn't one.  The Greek Revival style structure completed in 1840 on Union Square that once served as the seat of state government today houses the offices of governor and lieutenant governor and their "immediate staffs" on the first floor.  The remainder of the building serves as a museum.

Visitors to the building are informed that the capitol (it still bears that moniker) has been changed less in appearance, inside and out, than any other major American civic building constructed in the early 1800s.  According to the self-guided tour brochure, "from 1990 to 2000, the capitol was meticulously restored to its 1840-1865 appearance, based on extensive physical and documentary research."  Quite impressive!  If the statehouse had air conditioning, electricity and modern plumbing during that period, it was significantly ahead of its time.

North Carolina's historic House Chamber
The building's second floor houses the rooms which served as the legislative chambers from 1840 until 1963, when state lawmakers abandoned their historic home and moved to the North Carolina State Legislative Building a block north. 

Gee, the state library recreated to its 1856 appearance!
On the third floor, North Carolina has created replicas of the state library room as it appeared in 1856 and the state geologist's office circa 1858.  Had we been yearning to visit the North Carolina historical museum, we probably would have found these mildly interesting. 

But we were in search of the North Carolina state capitol, the site of the active business of the state government.  North Carolina ranks in the top ten states in terms of population and the vibrancy of its economy.  This tired, yawn-inducing facility did not reflect our impression of the state.  There was no busy activity level reflective of today's North Carolina, just a few sleepy employees at the tour desk.

Lots of private offices in this public building
In the areas where state bureaucrats still occupy the "North Carolina Capitol," there was no evidence of democratic government at work.  All was concealed behind closed doors.  Every wing of the first floor, where current government offices are located, is blocked off.  Visitors, even citizens of the state, are clearly not welcome.  Although access to the sacred domain of the North Carolina governor is forbidden, His Honor was kind enough to offer a little ego exhibit of photographs of himself with President Obama, Billy Graham, and other dignitaries at the desk blocking the unwashed public from the hallway leading to his office.

Third floor corridor
With the exception of the first floor rotunda where a few plaques and busts honor the state's signers of the Declaration of Independence and other famous people and events in state history, most of the building is plain and unadorned.

The most surprising feature we found was an odd statue of George Washington in the rotunda.  Actually this is a 1970 copy of  a work commissioned by the state in 1816 and executed by an Italian sculptor who had never seen Washington.  The original was destroyed in an 1831 fire.

Giorgio Washington as Antonio Canova imagined him
With no concept of his intended subject and only a bust to work from, the sculptor relied on allegory.  The first President is depicted as a Roman general with a tunic and short cape.  In his hand is a stylus, with which he has presumably written the first few words of his farewell speech on a tablet—in Italian, a language Washington neither spoke nor understood. 

The three Presidents who were born in North Carolina were given a more realistic treatment.  Near the main entrance to the building is a bronze statue honoring Andrew Jackson, James K. Polk, and Andrew Johnson.  In an interesting footnote, all three of these native North Carolinians were residing in Tennessee when they were elected to the presidency.

President Truman spoke at the 1948 unveiling of this monument
With so little going on at this government center, metered parking across the street was easily obtained.  The security screening was by far the oddest we have experienced anywhere.  Ever.  Before walking through the metal detector, the guard had us remove any suspicious objects from our pockets and place them on a table or in whatever bag we might be carrying.  The bag was also placed on the table (not screened) for us to retrieve after the guard had ensured we had nothing dangerous on our person.  Apparently what we carried in our bag was our own business.

Even though we checked it off our list, we harbor no illusion that we saw the seat of the North Carolina government.
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FRIDAY, 28 JUNE 2013

NC Capitol Dome
Corinthian columns in the old House Chamber, a rare decorative touch
Senate chamber
 

A Hedge Against Mediocrity

Thursday, June 27, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments



Just outside the Bishopville city limits
BISHOPVILLLE, South Carolina—After buttoning up our exploration of Dalton Stevens' surprising collection, we cruised back into town in search of Bishopville's other local superstar, Pearl Fryar.  As we reached the corner of Broad Acres Road and saw the impressive sign pointing the way to South Carolina's most famous topiary garden, we wondered if we were headed for something stodgy and formal.  We were not.  
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In a garden that would delight Dr. Seuss, Pearl Fryar, a self-taught topiary artist, has cut and trimmed, twisted and maneuvered, cajoled and urged plants into spirals, arches, corkscrews and other abstract shapes that draw the eye and invite closer inspection.  This is not how Mr. Fryar found the property on Broad Acres Road when he purchased it.  "When we bought this property, it was a corn field," he told us.  "We had to wait for the crop to be harvested before we could start building our house."
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Twin arches invite visitors into the garden
Born the son of North Carolina sharecroppers in 1939, Mr. Fryar attended college in his home state before migrating to New York, where he met the love of his life and decided to stay.  In 1976, the Fryars moved south when Pearl took a job with a beverage can manufacturer in Bishopville.  Having grown up in the segregated South, Fryar was stung but not surprised when a local real estate agent informed him that their prospects of purchasing a home for sale in a white-only area was staunchly opposed by the neighbors.  "Black people don't keep up their yards," one of the residents confided to the white realtor, who shared the remark with her clients. 

Deciding they didn't want to live in the thick of intolerance, the Fryars bought the cornfield on a street where blacks were welcome, and there they built their home.  Though he hadn't allowed himself to be angered by the overt bigotry, Fryar had not forgotten it.  Upon learning that the local garden club awarded a plaque for "Yard of the Month," Pearl resolved to become the first African American to achieve the honor.

Pearl Fryar freely shares his wisdom and time.
Laboring by street light after completing his 12-hour shift at the factory, Pearl Fryar nurtured the local nursery's cast-off plants back to life in his garden.  He knew that nothing ordinary would gain him the garden club's attention and sought to create a landscape they could not ignore.  After hearing about topiary, he absorbed all his local nurseryman knew about the subject in a three-minute lesson.  From there he was on his own.  Though it took five years of work and ultimately required intervention by a local senator because the Fryar home lies just outside the Bishopville city limits, Pearl's artistry and intuitive horticultural skills did win him the 'Yard of the Month' title in 1985.  But that was only the beginning.

Sculptures in the driveway island, like all the Fryar topiary, are trimmed every 4 to 6 weeks
By the mid-1990s, what had become known as the Fryar Topiary Garden had gained the attention of a much larger audience.  Featured in dozens of regional and then national magazine and newspaper articles and widely acclaimed by art and botanical enthusiasts, Pearl's little yard project inspired a 2006 documentary film called A Man Named Pearl (available on Netflix).  Since his acclaim has expanded, Pearl continues to receive frequent invitations to speak about his work and his philosophy at locations across the country from Harvard to NASA.  He has personally received awards from a long list of universities, foundations and arts commissions, pruning his way to international fame.

"I can topiary anything at this point"
Bishopville's historic dependence on agriculture has thrust the town and Lee County into the 'most impoverished' title among South Carolina counties.  Swelling unemployment has squeezed the city's population, as locals have been forced to move elsewhere for jobs.  In the midst of this crisis, Pearl Fryar's garden attracts more than 10,000 annual visitors from across the nation and around the globe.

In 2006, Fryar's supporters organized a nonprofit foundation to preserve his legacy beyond his lifetime.  At age 73, he is grateful for this assistance.  His plan to phase various sections of the garden into a more natural state have been abandoned as he trains an apprentice to carry on his work.  The Garden Conservancy, which provided the fancy sign at the corner, has also adopted the garden as a work of great originality and offers resources to help ensure its preservation.

With no training in horticulture, Pearl Fryar has induced plants to form extraordinary sculptures that botanists would have deemed impossible.  He seeks to do the same with people, harboring a special passion for lifting up youth who have talent but may not produce high test scores.  The Fryar Foundation underwrites scholarships for just such young people. 

Academic performance does not necessarily predict potential for success, Pearl contends.  If a young person has talent and passion and is willing to invest hard work, traditional measures are irrelevant, he says, crediting his father with instilling in him the value of a strong work ethic:  "He always told me, 'I want you to be somebody.'  And I did." 

In his work and his life, Pearl Fryar seeks to have a positive impact, striving to create a garden which will inspire visitors to feel better when they leave than when they arrived.  Carefully carved into the ground in large flowering letters are the guiding principles of Pearl's garden and his life.
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THURSDAY, 27 JUNE 2013
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Pearl Fryar's Garden Stats:
  • 3.5 acres
  • 400+ plants
  • pruned every 4-6 weeks
  • 10,000 annual visitors
  • plants include:  junipers, hollies, Leyland cypress, pines, oaks, dogwoods, spruce, cedars, boxwoods and others
Pearl's neighbors have been inspired by his garden and joined in the neighborhood whimsy
 

Right on the Button

Thursday, June 27, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments

BISHOPVILLE, South Carolina— Having checked South Carolina off our list of capitol buildings left to see, we set our sights for North Carolina's seat of government in Raleigh, a 200-mile drive northeast.  Seeking an excuse to break up the trip, we consulted our Roadside America app, a treasure trove of quirky museums, odd collections, and folksy monuments.  Our search was rewarded when we discovered not one but two must-see attractions in Bishopville (pop. 3,471), a quaint hamlet founded in 1790, just a few years after Columbia was established, 50 miles and a two-day wagon ride to the west.

Seven miles outside the town, along a narrow rural road, a faded sign announced that we were approaching the Button King Museum, our first stop.  Beside a cornfield, we led a cloud of dust down a sandy lane until we arrived at the site of two quonset huts, the near one identified as our target.  A tired mongrel dog ambled over to greet us with a half-hearted sniff.  Though no vehicles were in sight, a sign on the door indicated the museum was open, so in we went, switching on the lights as we entered.

This tribute to the simple fastener is owned and operated by octogenarian Dalton Stevens, who blundered into button obsession in the 1980s when he was bleary-eyed with chronic insomnia.  With sleep as elusive as quicksilver and TV offering nothing but a test pattern, Mr. Stevens searched the far corners of his mind for some quiet activity to occupy himself.  There in the dusty reaches, he found a button.

While his wife slept soundly, Dalton pulled out an old denim jumpsuit and began sewing buttons on every square inch of the garment.  Where he obtained all those buttons is not clear, but he kept sewing for nearly three years until the suit was covered with 16,333 buttons and weighed more than 16 pounds.  Though Mr. Stevens considers this first work his masterpiece, he still couldn't sleep, so he rummaged around for other items that might be improved by the addition of a few buttons.

The first Button King creation
To relieve the calluses that must have been on his fingers from all that sewing, the Button King turned to contact cement and his nocturnal hobby kicked into high gear.  After covering a pair of shoes to go with his suit, he coated his guitar with 3,005 buttons, enveloped his banjo and piano with the plastic disks, and, ready to tackle ever larger projects, decorated his 1983 Chevy Chevette with 150,000 buttons.

Mr. Stevens buttoned up so his wife could sleep.
Eventually, the self-styled Button King's body of work expanded to include a button-encrusted hearse, bathtub, toilet, outhouse, grandfather clock, two coffins, and numerous small items.  After polishing off his first few items, Mr. Stevens wondered whether his hometown newspaper might like to report on his uncommon new hobby.  Publication of his story emboldened him to contact other newspapers and a television station in neighboring Florence.  After accounts of the insomniac Button King were picked up by wire services, invitations flooded in for appearances on the talk show circuit.

The vehicle for the Button King's final journey
Before his wife's illness grounded him in Bishopville, the affable hobbyist and amateur musician had modeled his button suit and plucked his banjo for Johnny Carson, David Letterman, Regis and Kathy Lee, Bill Cosby, Geraldo Rivera, Charles Kuralt, Ralph Emory, and others.  Ever the promoter, Mr. Stevens will sell today's visitors a DVD with footage documenting these historic performances.  All this publicity unleashed an avalanche of buttons, as viewers far and wide emptied their button jars and shipped their treasures to Bishopville.  By 1990, Guinness World Records certified that Stevens owned the world's largest collection of buttons without duplicates—some 439,900 of them.

The Button King
As we exited the museum, a car drove up next to ours, and the Button King himself emerged.  We chatted with our friendly host a few minutes though we declined to ask him to perform one of his signature songs—Insomniac Shuffle or Poppin' Buttons.  After all, he had assured us we could order a CD with all his music from his web site (www.scbuttonking.com).  He may not have the world's greatest voice, but he's had lots of practice and is an accomplished instrumentalist.  Since his wife died several years ago, he can now while away sleepless nights playing his banjo, as he, in fact, reported doing last night.

With a bit of marketing and a good dose of folksy charm, Dalton Stevens has parlayed a most unusual insomnia-generated pastime into a cause for acclaim.  Just think, if he had come along a few years later, TLC would have been knocking at his button-clad door with an offer for a reality television show.  
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THURSDAY, 27 JUNE 2013

Where the Button King will finally sleep uninterrupted
The Buttonmobile

Long-Term Capitol

Tuesday, June 25, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments

SOUTH CAROLINA STATE CAPITOL
Columbia, SC
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On our way to North Carolina to visit family, we paused in Columbia to check off another state capitol building.  Fifty-two years in the making, the South Carolina State House, as it is known here, holds the record (as far as our cursory research revealed) for the longest time from construction start to completion.

After South Carolina's state capital moved west from Charleston to Columbia in 1786, a fine Federal style state house was built in the new planned city.  By the 1850s, lawmakers had grown concerned about the safety of valuable state records stored in the increasingly deteriorating wooden building.  By 1855, construction had begun on a new state house which would provide fireproof storage for important artifacts and a grander and larger structure which would better reflect the state's growing prosperity.

Plans called for an imposing state house with Roman and Corinthian details topped by a 180-ft square tower (sketch of original design above).  Work proceeded well until the onset of the Civil War.  By 1861, records indicated that more than two million dollars had been spent on the unfinished capitol which still lacked a roof.  During the next four years with both human and fiscal resources directed toward the war effort, work on the state house slowed to a crawl.

South Carolina State House after extensive war damage (image:  SC State Museum)
As the war neared an end in late 1864, General Sherman marched his troops in a fiery raid across Georgia.  From Savannah, Sherman advanced northward through the Carolinas with a particular determination to punish South Carolina, the first state to secede from the Union. By the time Union troops left Columbia in February, 1865, the old wooden state house and much of the central city lay in ashes and the still unfinished new capitol building had been heavily damaged.  Building material, architectural plans and construction equipment lay in ruins.

With the South Carolina economy in shambles and struggling to recover from the war, little meaningful progress was made on the statehouse until the mid-1880s when work on the the interior began in earnest.  Over the next ten years an elegant Victorian jewel was created inside.

John C Calhoun stands over the main lobby outside the legislative chambers.
Stained glass mosaics by a Baltimore studio adorn the building's interior.  These beautiful works of art depict scenes and symbols significant to the state.  Overlooking the main lobby, a large mosaic featuring the state seal required more than 37,000 pieces of glass to create.

This jeweled mosaic dates from the late 1800s.
By the time the exterior of the state house was completed in the early 1900s, the most recent architect on the project convinced lawmakers to ditch the tower design in favor of a central dome, a popular trend in other state capitols.  Finally in 1907 after the dome was added and porticos and exterior steps were finished, construction on the South Carolina State House, was declared complete, only 52 years after it was begun.

The southern face (rear) of the State House
When the exterior was finished, the damage inflicted by shells from Sherman's cannons was not repaired.  Rather, like a soldier awarded a medal for meritorious service in a combat zone, the building wears six bronze stars to mark the Union cannon fire wounds.

Bronze stars mark scars left by Federal troops in 1865
On our tour of the South Carolina State House today, we found the building to be a stunningly elegant and dignified seat of government.  Both the splendid interior and the beautifully landscaped 18-acre grounds, featuring a vast array of specimen plantings, are meticulously maintained.  Metered parking was readily available on the street adjacent to the capitol complex, and the security screeners at the entrance were professional if not particularly friendly.  In terms of attractiveness and state symbolism, we would rate the South Carolina State House in the top four of the capitol buildings we have seen to date.
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TUESDAY, 25 JUNE 2013
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South Carolina State House Stats:
  • Architectural style:  Roman Corinthian
  • Building height:  164 feet (to top of dome)
  • Construction dates:  1855-1907
  • Construction cost:  $3,540,000
  • Exterior material:  granite
  • Dome surface:  copper
Statue of George Washington near entrance still bears damage from Union invasion
(tip of walking cane broken off)
Interior of state house dome
The House Chamber
The massive columns on the porticos were each carved from a single piece of stone.
The Senate Chamber

Cousins Courting History

Friday, June 14, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments

LOCAL HISTORY IN MISSISSIPPI 
June 10-14, 2013
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When my sister Jeanne invited us to join her and five of her grandchildren on a history and letterboxing/geocaching expedition, she didn't have to ask twice.  Of course, I was on board, but Ken needed to visit his mother in North Carolina.  So off we went, sad to be headed in opposite directions yet again.
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Ranging in age from four to twelve, the kids would spend their mornings in Vacation Bible School and their afternoons exploring with us.  And let it be said, this was not your grandmother's VBS.  Rock music blared, black "Turn It Up" t-shirts and baseball caps were distributed to all the kids, and class groups vied for the daily spirit award with competitive noisemaking pandemonium.  Our postprandial activities would be calm in comparison.
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During her children's growing years, Jeanne nurtured them on a steady diet of historical information, civic lessons, and geography trivia.  Today any one of them could probably win a spot on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.  This week, she would continue the tradition with another generation.  Jeanne's daughter Gina, mother of two of the cousins, offered to host us at her home and volunteered for chauffeuring duty for the week.
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As the symbol and seat of local government, courthouses would be the focus of our touring with an introduction to letterboxing and geocaching thrown in to spice things up a bit.  Monday afternoon found us invading the Forrest County Courthouse in Hattiesburg (pictured above). 
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Following what would become a routine photo op on the courthouse steps and at the site of the county's Confederate Monument, we made our way into the building.  Though the VBS teachers had done their best to adrenalize the kids, the cousins curbed their hyperactivity and noise level when we entered the government building and became absorbed in their grandmother's tour. 

After a brief visit to the courtroom, where probation revocation hearings were wrapping up for the day, we completed the Forrest County Courthouse tour and trekked over to the Hattiesburg Cultural Center nearby to search for a letterbox.  Here the kids learned one of the basic lessons of this hobby—sometimes the box has gone missing.  Retracing our steps toward the courthouse on the way to Veterans Memorial Park, we passed the office of U.S. Congressman Steven Palazzo, who represents Mississippi's 4th Congressional District.  Upon entering, we learned that Representative Palazzo was in Washington that day, but his Hattiesburg office staff was very congenial, and we jumped on their suggestion for a group photo in the office.  These young constituents were especially impressed with the congressman's gold-embossed business cards that the staff distributed.

Young constituents of Rep. Palazzo
At Veterans Memorial Park, the search began for the kids' first geocache.  The hint for the cache suggested it was on or near a place to sit, but the park was equipped with two dozen or so benches, and with the temperature at 95°, discouragement was an easy option. In what would become a pattern, Carson (age 10) persevered in the quest until he tracked down the treasure, a tiny magnetic box hidden on the underside of a bench.  

Drenched in perspiration, we were all thrilled to return to the oasis of the air-conditioned car, but the best relief for the kids came after we returned to the Hudson home for the day.  A long playtime in the pool became a late afternoon routine.  They invented clever games to keep them splashing and frolicking until dinner time.  Not only was it fun, pool time absolved the kids from the requirement for a daily bath.  What could be better?

The cousins:  Carson, Alex, Andrew, Avery and Lizzie, plus neighbor Hayden
Even though Alex and Avery live in Hattiesburg, they are not residents of Forrest County.  The metropolitan area is split between Forrest County and Lamar County, where their house is located.  So on Tuesday, we set our sights on Purvis, the county seat of Lamar County.  As we drove, the kids were mesmerized by the story of a 1908 F-4 tornado that demolished most of the town and killed 83 residents.  Mr. Thomas Purves, for whom the town was named, also captured their imagination when they learned that he changed the spelling of his surname after the railroad mistakenly named the town Purvis.

A shiver ran down our spines when we exited the car upon our arrival and noticed that the time on the town clock in the old courthouse dome was 2:15, just two minutes later than the time the clock had been stopped when the dome was torn down by the tornado 105 years earlier.  When they discovered the tornado memorial on the courthouse grounds, the cousins were especially touched by the listing of victims' names on the back, saddened when they noticed that by the time the monument was constructed 100 years after the event, the names of some of the children who perished had been lost to history.
At the old Purvis train depot
Though a new Lamar County Courthouse opened next door in 2009, finishing touches were underway in a massive renovation of the 1905 building, which will again house some county courts and offices.  We were invited to see the new state of the art courtroom with video panels for each juror and noted that the restoration included the return of the dome and clock atop the structure.

After checking out both courthouses, we sought out the town library, where a geocache was hidden.  When we arrived, we found more than we were expecting.  The old Purvis depot, which had been tossed across the tracks by the tornado, had been restored and moved to a location next to the library.  In front of the old building was a bust of none other than Mr. Purves himself.  Carson again spied the geocache first, and this one was large enough to house "swag," small, inexpensive trinkets that geocachers like to trade when they find caches.  Needless to say, the cousins found this new aspect of the hobby quite to their liking, especially since Grandmother Jeanne had planned ahead and brought some items for them to trade.

While at the library, we also left a letterbox that we had created to plant in Purvis.  The clue relates the tragedy of the 1908 tornado, and we had decided to name the box A Twist of Fate in Purvis.  As we explored the area for a good hiding place, Avery mentioned that the bust of Mr. Purves was hollow and asked if the box could be hidden inside it.  After obtaining permission from the librarian, we did just that, and Andrew received high-fives all around when he suggested we change the name of the box to A Twist of Fate in Purves.  Brilliant!

One more geocache, found again by Carson the 'geomaster,' slowed down our departure from Purvis only briefly.  After all, the pool awaited, offering refreshing relief from the relentless heat and humidity.

On Wednesday and Thursday, we visited the courthouses of Jones County, named for Revolutionary War naval hero John Paul Jones.  Like 33 other counties in the U.S., Jones County has two county seats, Ellisville and Laurel.  This practice dates back to the time when cross-county travel was difficult and persists because county seats are a source of pride and jobs. 

Back when the county was still divided into two judicial districts at the beginning of the last century, Jones County constructed twin courthouses in the Classical Revival architectural style.  Laurel's courthouse was completed in 1907, and the doors of its Ellisville twin opened in 1908, leaving no opportunity for conflict over which city had a finer building. 

The Jones Twins - Ellisville (L) and Laurel (R)
Because Laurel (pop. 18,540) grew significantly larger than Ellisville (pop. 4,448) over the last century, more of the county government operations have gradually been moved to Laurel.  As we learned on our Wednesday visit to Ellisville, the courtroom there is now only a historic exhibit.  Some government offices still operate out of the Ellisville facility, and the friendly staff dug out a key and invited the cousins to visit the old courtroom, where they were permitted to engage in a little respectful role playing.

Before our guided tour, we had been wandering around the quiet courthouse and found ourselves on the top floor, which we soon discovered was now used only for storage.  "Hey!  Look in here!" Carson suddenly called out.  Following his voice, we found ourselves in a room that made us feel we had stumbled into another era.  The musty room was lined with shelves filled with old dusty record books, some of which predated the courthouse itself.  It looked as if the ancient tomes might have been stored there when the building opened and nothing had been changed since then.

Andrew, Carson and Lizzie live in Ellisville, where their dad coaches football at the local college, so once our government exploration was done, we took a short ride to their house for a visit but not before the cousins located a letterbox at the entrance to the campus.  Then it was back to Hattiesburg and the cool-off pool routine before dinner and bedtime.

Thursday we returned to Jones County to check out the Laurel courthouse, which was the scene of considerably more activity than the Ellisville building.  As in Ellisville the kids posed before the local Confederate monument—similar but not identical to the memorial at the twin courthouse.  There is a certain irony in this county having two monuments to the Confederacy. 

With the lowest slave population in the state in 1861, Jones County was inhabited by yeoman farmers and cattle herders, who were opposed to secession for the purpose of defending the institution of slavery.  Jones Countians insisted that they had no interest in fighting a war on behalf of wealthy planters who would be exempt from conscription by means of their slaveholding—a rich man's war and a poor man's fight, they called it.  So determined were they to remain out of the Confederacy, some locals attempted to secede from the state of Mississippi and form the "Free State of Jones."  In the end, the county did send native sons to the war but it was also known as a haven for Confederate deserters.

Ms. Angie, our impromptu tour guide in Ellisville related a harrowing tale about a trap door installed in the Laurel courthouse for the purpose of conducting hangings for capital convictions.  Needless to say, this got the cousins' attention.  Ms. Angie gave us the name of a court employee in the Laurel building and suggested that we might be able to see the trap door.  The first person we asked about this interesting piece of history was certain it didn't exist, but once we hooked up with a long-time courthouse employee, she guided us down a circular staircase (or was it up?) and through a labyrinthine passage to a spooky area that once served as the jail.  And sure enough, there we saw the trap door, which she assured us had been used only once.

Upon leaving the courthouse, we informed the kids that two surprises were still on the agenda for the day.  All week we had been decreeing a 'Best Manners of the Day' award, and the competition had been fierce.  By Thursday, all the cousins were trying so hard to earn this distinction we could hardly select a winner, so their first surprise was a trip to the local ice cream stand, the perfect reward on this hot muggy day.

Once we had all become thoroughly coated with the snowmelt of sweet, sticky goodness, it was time to search for hidden treasures.  Our attempt to find a letterbox in one of Laurel's parks was unsuccessful; the hiding place was empty.  Next we went to the Amtrak train station in Laurel to look for a geocache.  Carson held back to give others a chance, and Avery spotted the tiny silver tube hanging in a tree.

A train ride is a novel experience to kids who always travel by car.


While at the depot, we took the opportunity to plant another letterbox we had prepared with a stamp of a train.  Our box naming brainstorm session produced Down by the Station for its title, and Avery, who had suggested the name, sang the eponymous song for us.

By this time, the Amtrak Crescent train was approaching Laurel for the daily stop on its southern run.  The Crescent provides daily service between New York and New Orleans.  Of course, we decided to brave the sweltering heat and wait to see the train come in.

When the train whistled to a stop, Grandmother Jeanne exclaimed, "I have an idea!  Let's ride the train!"  The kids' whoops in response let us know that our second surprise was right on track, and tickets in hand we boarded for the 45-minute ride south to Hattiesburg, where Gina was waiting for us at the station.

Having exhausted all the courthouses on our list, Friday we decided to end our week with a little military history.  Camp Shelby, a large military training compound near Hattiesburg, has been in continuous use since it opened during World War I.  On its grounds is the Mississippi Armed Forces Museum.  The museum's eight galleries depict the military history of not just the state but the nation from the 19th century through Iraq.  Exhibits include weapons, equipment, uniforms and medals, while outside visitors can get a close look at aircraft, tanks, and field artillery.

After a couple of hours at the museum, we found one last letterbox nearby before returning to the Hudson house to pack up Andrew, Carson and Lizzie for home, but not before we celebrated Lizzie's upcoming fifth birthday and posed for one last group shot.

Grandmother Jeanne, Gina and I were bowled over by how much knowledge our five little sponges had soaked up the previous five days.  There's talk of a replay next year.  Maybe by then, some of the other grandchildren (teens and toddlers) may decide to join in the adventure.

10-14 JUNE 2013

High Times in the Low Country

Thursday, June 06, 2013 Road Junkies 0 Comments

5 DAYS IN CHARLESTON, SC:  
A SIBLING SOJOURN
June 2-6, 2013

Back in the 1980s, my brother, sister, mother and I took a couple of short vacation trips together—just the four of us—sending us back in time to the days when we siblings were kids and Mother boldly loaded us up in the car for family road trips.  Since we were 25 years overdue for a sibling adventure, we decided to invade Charleston together.  This time we embraced Ken into our fold, and he agreed to come along as our patient and always congenial driver.
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Thanks to VRBO, we secured the ultimate Charlestonian accommodation in a historic house on South Battery, the southernmost street of the old city.  The homeowners spend half the year cruising the seas in their sailboat, leaving their beautiful home vacant.  Luckily for us, this year they decided to make it available as a vacation rental.  When the house was constructed in 1795, South Battery was a waterfront street along the Ashley River. Active in the shipping industry, the original owners extended a wharf from the house into the river to accommodate their ships.  (second level piazza pictured above)
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Our home away from home on South Battery
In the intervening 200+ years, the river has moved away from the house as land was filled in to create another street between South Battery and the Ashley.  Furnished with period antiques, the elegant home definitely kept us in a Charleston state of mind.  We especially relished sipping our morning coffee on one of the piazzas and toasting the day there while catching the afternoon breezes off the river.
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To avoid a long single-day drive, Mother and Jeanne made an overnight layover at our place on Saturday.  On Sunday we arranged and rearranged, stuffed and pushed, and finally crammed all our necessities into the back of the Acura, arriving in Charleston just in time to pick up Woodie from the airport.  He disembarked with a slew of Low Country recommendations he had picked up from friends in Tennessee.  Since we were all overdue for lunch, we quickly agreed to sample one of his proposals, a restaurant called A.W. Shucks.
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Back garden of the rental house
Expecting to see stalks of corn, I was thrilled that we were headed for a vegetarian place.  Turned out that oysters also get shucked.  Even though the seafood restaurant is popular with tourists, we weren't so thrilled with our fare.  As we were waiting for our check, Jeanne pulled out her smartphone to show us the geocaching app she had recently downloaded.  Sure enough, the map indicated numerous caches in our immediate vicinity.  A great way to walk off some of those calories.
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Although we've occasionally stumbled upon geocaches while searching for a letterbox, this was our first experience with deliberately trying to locate one.  The app uses the phone's GPS capabilities to eliminate the need for a separate device.  It took us a while, but we finally found the microcache hidden away in a crevice on the fence next to the customs house.  A tiny clear plastic tube about one-fourth the diameter of a pencil (pictured in Jeanne's hand above), the geocache earned a difficulty rating of 4 on a 1 to 5 scale, but we learned that only after we had scrutinized every inch of the area to find it.  Delirious with victory, we decided to try for one more, a larger and easier to find container in nearby Philadelphia Alley, before calling it quits and retreating to the house to kick up our feet and relax on the porch.  After dinner, we swatted at the pesky mosquitoes who tried to discourage us from our stroll along the riverside battery and White Point Garden Park.
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Our carriage and riders
On Monday, Charleston's rainy coastal weather mucked up our plan to begin Day 2 with one of the city's legendary carriage tours.  When our morning ride was dampened, we slipped into the City Market to soak up some local flavor.  Opened in 1803, the market shelters a profusion of vendors offering a plethora of products from jewelry and clothing to paintings and pottery, and, of course, Charleston's signature sweetgrass baskets.  Local artisans who learned basket making from their grandparents casually demonstrate intricate weaving techniques as they chat with tourists.
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While eating lunch at the nearby Noisy Oyster, we sympathized with passing tourists getting soaked by the hourly deluge.  Escaping to the car during a break in the clouds, we returned to our refuge on South Battery to wait out the rain.  By the time our date with a carriage driver arrived at 5 p.m., the monsoon had abated—mostly.  Following the advice of a Southern Living reviewer, we booked our tour with Palmetto Carriage.  Thanks to our knowledgeable guide Tim, we were not disappointed.  Otis, the mule who reluctantly hauled us around, was not as enthusiastic.  Feeling sorry for her (yes, her), we asked Tim if she might be tired since it was late afternoon.  Apparently Otis just wanted to give life to the old expression "stubborn as a..."  Ours was her first and only tour of the day.  (Perhaps there's a good reason she was named for the shiftless drunk who frequented Andy Griffith's Mayberry jail.)
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Following Tim's recommendation, we headed over to Hominy Grill for dinner, where obtaining a table involved hanging out for an hour and a half until one was free.  When we declined an offer to join the wait list, the Hominy host referred us to another restaurant a block away—Five Loaves, a cozy café serving up flavorful, creative dishes featuring fresh local ingredients.  A great recommendation and a delicious way to end the day.
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By the end of Day 2, we discovered that the sultry coastal air had infected our speech with a heavy Southern drawl.  Vowels somehow grew widah and some of ouwa ahr's just seemed to disappeah, Sugah, the longah we were in Chahlston.  Since Jeanne was the mastah of this honey-drippin' tawk, Ken dubbed her Ms. Magnolia.
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To start Tuesday, our third day, we boarded the ferry for an invasion of Fort Sumter, famous as the site of the opening salvo of the Civil War.  Built on a man-made island to defend the city from attacks by sea, the fort quite naturally stored its gunpowder in the corners of the structure facing the land. When Confederates bombarded the federal citadel from the shore, threatening the magazine, the commander surrendered rather than endangering his troops.    
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Enjoying the piazza
 After returning to the mainland, we invoked our lunch reservation at Hominy Grill, where we were seated promptly.  Though the food was adequate, it paled in comparison to Five Loaves.  A five-spoon dish of pecan pie a la mode was the best part of the meal and a fine send-off to Magnolia Plantation and Gardens, a 70-acre property on the Ashley River northeast of the city center.  One of the oldest plantations in the south, Magnolia was established in 1676 when Thomas and Ann Drayton built a house and a small formal garden on the site.  The property has remained under the control of the Drayton family for 15 generations.
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In the 1840s, the grandson of the original owner had the gardens reworked into a more formal style, introducing new species such as the camellia and azalea to America.  Magnolia Plantation became a favorite antebellum destination, receiving many renowned visitors.  Matthew Brady photographed the gardens, and John James Audubon made a pilgrimage to sketch its feathered creatures.  In the economic collapse after the Civil War, the Draytons opened the gardens to the public as a tourist attraction to raise operating funds. 
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Peacock glory at Magnolia Plantation
In addition to the various gardens, Magnolia houses a nature center and intimate zoo, which is ruled over by an entertaining flock of peacocks.  These birds are bold, brash and beautiful.  Whether they were strutting their stuff for visitors or for the neighborhood peahens, we couldn't be sure, but they provided plenty of photo ops for everyone.  When these guys spread their tail feathers into a quivering fan for their ladies, they're almost six feet tall from foot to feather tips.

With supplies from the local Harris Teeter supermarket, we took advantage of our kitchen facilities and prepared dinner in, winding down from an eventful day.  No wait for a table on South Battery.
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Angel Oak
Serendipitously, our visit to Charleston coincided with the annual internationally celebrated Spoleto Festival and its companion, the Piccolo Spoleto, which showcases outstanding local and regional artists.  Finally on Day 4, we chanced to go by Marion Square when rain was not falling.  More than 80 award-winning South Carolina artists were displaying their works in this public park.  Though they had spent much time in recent days dodging storms and frantically rescuing their paintings from harm's way, these locals were friendly and eager to talk about their creations.
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Since this would be our last full day in the city, we wanted to get a closer look at the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge, stretching 2.5 miles across the Cooper River like a huge stringed instrument connecting Charleston with Mount Pleasant.  This spectacular structure was designed with guidance from Charleston history.  A nineteenth century earthquake that nearly leveled the city inspired a superstructure that can withstand a 7.4 quake.  Hurricane Hugo's massive destruction in 1989 prompted engineers to create a span that can endure wind gusts in excess of 300 mph.  One-acre rock islands surround and protect the bridge towers to protect from the kind of ship mishaps that have occurred in the past.  An uncontrolled ship will run aground on the island rather than colliding with the tower.
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After this man-made marvel, we drove south to Johns Island to visit a natural wonder.  Estimated to be 400 to 500 years old, Angel Oak is a Southern live oak with a trunk 28 feet in circumference.  Though damaged severely by Hurricane Hugo, the tree has since recovered.  From tip to tip, its longest branch span measures two-thirds of the length of a football field.
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Having sampled the visual arts component of the Piccolo Spoleto, we finished off our last full day in Charleston with a local theater performance, Mary Kay Has a Posse, an amusing parody of The View hosted by four Southern women tipsy on their "spiked" coffee.   These native Charlestonians have played improv comedy together so long, they seamlessly pick up the thread from each other's comments as if rehearsed.  Any topic from pop culture to the lives of audience members provides fodder for their irreverent and politically incorrect humor.  The show had mixed reviews from our group but generally everyone found something to laugh at.
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Airport goodbye
Our sojourn in Charleston was destined to come to an end on Day 5.  We had to deliver Woodie to the airport before noon, leaving us just enough time to visit two nearby Charleston landmarks.  Waterfront Park, a 12-acre sliver of land skirting the Cooper River, is home to the iconic Pineapple Fountain.  Winner of numerous design awards, the park features a quarter-mile canopy of oaks paralleling a palmetto esplanade along the river. 
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Our final stop was Circular Congregational Church, whose origins date back to the founding of Charleston.  Established in 1681 by English, Scot and French settlers of various religious backgrounds, the congregation was determined to be an independent Protestant group, refusing to tie itself to any church hierarchy.  This spirit of liberty pervaded the membership and served as a breeding ground for local leaders in the Revolutionary War.  Though we were unable to explore the church, we were fascinated by its graveyard, Charleston's oldest burial grounds with markers dating back to 1695.
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And then it was time for us to reluctantly release Woodie, who was flying south for a reunion with his Duncan brothers in Tallahassee, which Tropical Storm Andrea was threatening to flood before she arced her way up to Charleston.  Dodging the rain-drenched coast, we abandoned our plans to drive home through Savannah and headed due west.  Woodie arrived safely in Tallahassee, and Jeanne and Mother departed from our house the following morning, leaving us with cherished memories and a collection of photos of our week in Charleston.  Not to mention a few remnants of a lingerin' sultry drawl, Honey.
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By the time we left Charleston, Ms. Magnolia had assigned names to Ms. Gardenia, Ms. Azalea, Mr. Stone, and Mr. Boo.  As we ventured around the city, Ms. Magnolia became moah and moah concerned about the degradation of genteel old Suthun mannuhs, quick to remind her traveling companions of propah etiquette when we slipped.  Finally, she decided that she could really help the situation if she wrote a guide that she could distribute to various people she meets along the way.  Imagine our surprise when we saw this being distributed to new arrivals at the airport when we dropped Woodie off.
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As we went our separate ways, we all agreed we'd had a high time in the low country.

2-6 JUNE 2013

  
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