By Dr. Carter Hudgins
Executive Director, 1994-2000
Historic Charleston Foundation
 he deep, resonant thump of piles being driven deep
into Charleston's ground has attracted a good deal of public comment in recent years. Bounced and shaken at their desks,
and sometimes in their beds, nearby residents and businesses have expressed concern that trembling soils could damage old foundations.
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Cedar stakes from the original fortification of Charles Town (c. 1690s) were found beneath the the Charleston County Courthouse at the corner of Meeting and Broad Streets. |
Yet the effect of pile driving in the historic district goes even deeper - threatening things that are even more fragile,
more delicate, and more at-risk than the city's famous buildings. With each blow, important parts of the city's archaeological
record, the buried foundations of walls and buildings, and layer upon layer of artifacts are pounded into meaningless fragments
and so thoroughly mixed that it is impossible to tell the 20th century from the 17th.
Pile-driving is a sure sign that Charleston is in the midst of a building boom. At the same time, less evident and certainly
quieter, is a recent, unequaled run of archaeological investigations.
Within the past few years, excavations preceded the construction of both the annex to the federal courthouse and the new
Charleston County Judicial Center. Archaeological crews have traced remnants of the Revolutionary-era tabby wall in Marion
Square that shielded the city from besieging British troops, have located and documented wharves, jetties and docks along
Prioleau Street, and have searched for the remains of Charles Town's early 18th century walled fortifications.
Other crews have painstakingly uncovered the well-preserved garden that once filled the expansive yard at 14 Legare Street and
deciphered changes made through two centuries in the Nathaniel Russell House garden. Far more public, but no less archaeological,
was the effort to retrieve the CSS Hunley submarine.
Each of these excavations across the historic peninsula make it clear that just beneath our feet, just below parking lots and
gardens, under buildings and streets, nearly everywhere in the city, are archaeological sites that link us to our past. These
same excavations, juxtaposed with current construction activity make it equally clear that every day we are complicit witnesses
to the destruction of significant, irreplaceable remnants of our past.
| Archaeology at the Nathaniel Russell House reveals the changes that have occurred at this site over the past 200 years. |
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When compared against the general American standard, Charleston's record of caring about its past is stellar. Charleston was the
first community in the nation to enact a zoning ordinance that addressed historic preservation. Unfortunately a city that treasures
its past, and indeed has garnered an international reputation for its preservation ethos, has not always exhibited the same level
of concern for its archaeological past.
The city's famous 1931 ordinance established Charleston's Board of Architectural Review and a city policy that, by actively
opposing demolition of historic buildings, set in motion the process by which old buildings are recycled for new uses. In
taking this decisive step, Charleston assumed a leadership role that has now, nearly three quarters of a century later, been
copied hundreds of times by towns and cities from one end of the nation to the other.
Leadership in the preservation of archaeological sites, however, has passed to other cities. Throughout the country, from Annapolis
to Tucson, from St. Augustine to Sacramento, local governments, towns, cities and counties, are taking steps to protect archaeological
sites. A few communities have instituted urban archaeology programs, and several states require that the effect of new construction on
archaeological sites be considered in the granting of building permits and zoning variances.
In Charleston there are no parallel requirements. Charleston does not have an archaeological ordinance. Nor does Charleston have a city archaeologist.
This means that when crews from the Commission on Public Works or the city dig trenches, there is no one present to record buried
walls, foundations or artifacts when they are found. There is no archaeologist to investigate sites of proposed construction. There
is no officially designated archaeological office to which residents, developers or preservation organizations can turn for assistance
or advice. If a site is found during a construction project, for example, there is no mechanism to ensure that evidence is systematically
recorded before it is irretrievably lost.
Charlestonians remind themselves and others daily that the city's architectural legacy is nationally significant. Recent excavations
make it clear that it is time for us to recognize the international significance of the archaeological sites that lie beneath the historic peninsula.
Archaeologists working at the site of the annex to the federal courthouse investigated the former rear yards of 85, 87, 89, 91 and 93 Broad
Street. The picture that emerged there of life in early Charleston is revealed in artifacts preserved in wells and privies. Thousands of
artifacts from these sites have, among other things, captured a clear image of the meat market that once filled the southwest corner of the
intersection of Broad and Meeting streets, as well as changing patterns of consumer taste in the early 19th century.
Extensive archaeological research supported by Charleston County at the site of the new county judicial center has recovered important
information that yields, for the first time, a clear picture of the substance and character of life in Charleston prior to the American
Revolution. The foundations of a sugar house, as well as buildings that huddled at the rear of the first structures built along Broad as
the city outgrew its walled boundaries, say much about the density and diversity of use and residency in the early city.
The foundation of another early 18th century building, constructed of clay formed over a framework of upright posts and woven wattle,
brings us face to face with building traditions that migrated from Africa to Charleston. Artifacts of all sorts, and numbering in the
thousands, provide points of connection to trans-Atlantic trading patterns and the evolving consumer tastes of the city's residents,
both rich and poor.
A multi-year investigation of the garden of the Pineapple Gate House on Legare Street makes it clear that important evidence of the
city's earliest gardens survives just below the surface. Structural repairs at Missroon House and CPW repairs have found the remnants
of Granville Bastion, the southeast corner of the system of walls and fortifications that protected the city from its founding through the American Revolution.
The spectacular results of this handful of archaeological investigations could be repeated a hundred times at other sites. That will
not happen, however, unless Charleston adopts a public policy of stewardship of its archaeological heritage. We walk each and every
day over some of the most important links we have to our past. Until we take the time to draft a policy that provides for their
protection, they are in danger of being lost forever.
What can you do to help protect Charleston's buried treasures?
- Support efforts to draft an archaeological protection policy in Charleston.
- Disallow "pot hunting" on your property. This means saying no to those who want to dig out your cistern or privy in order to collect bottles or other artifacts.
- Get more information before doing large-scale excavations such as putting in a pool or heavy landscaping. Are there any restrictions such as easements or covenants on your property that require approval of the work in advance?
- Remember, the greatest protection you can afford to the archaeological sites on your property is to leave them alone.
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