Standing at the Crossroads

by George W. McDaniel for The Southern Edge Magazine, Winter 2018

 

One day in the mid-1990s, I drove from my home in Summerville to Bacon’s Bridge over the Ashley River and spent several hours enjoying the tranquil beauty and deep sense of history the place conveys. From the Ashley River up to the Ashley River Road stretched 80 acres of forest with a mix of pines and hardwoods, interspersed with wetlands, which offered opportunities for bird-watching. History was nearby, for an early bridge near the site of the present one was built in the late 1600s, and during the Revolutionary War the area was considered a strategic location by both Patriot and British soldiers, including Gen. Francis Marion, the “Swamp Fox.” Just up from the bridge, the river had served as a popular swimming hole for generations of local youth. By the mouth of a creek on the river’s west bank was a spot where people from all walks of life, including my sons and me, had fished for bream, bass, flounder, and striped bass since the river there was a productive mix of both fresh and salt water.

In the 90s, those 80 acres from the river to the road had been owned principally by Charleston Southern University. Friends of mine and I had asked the Dorchester County Council to purchase the land as a park, but had been rebuffed due to a lack of money. Having grown up in Atlanta, I could see the future and was fearful because I had seen countless rural landscapes like this bulldozed and built over as development spread.

Several years later while reading the Summerville Journal Scene, I just happened to see an innocuous story explaining that the Dorchester County Council had turned down Charleston Southern’s offer to sell that property to the county. I alerted my friends, and together we piled into two cars — Howard Bridgman, Heyward Hutson, George Neil, Sue Wehman, Lucy Anne Cathcart — and drove to St. George, the county seat, to ask the council to re-consider its decision. “Too late,” we were told. Their earlier vote had been final.

After the meeting, conversations were held, and perhaps arms twisted, and we were told that at the next meeting, there might be a chance. In those two weeks we mobilized the public. At the next county council meeting in Summerville, the room was filled with standing-room-only. Coy Johnston, a leading conservationist in the state, had worked his magic and secured funds from the SC Conservation Bank so that the Lowcountry Land Trust could buy the land.

Citizens stood in line to voice their support for a future park. I knew we had won when a fireman, still dressed in his station house blue uniform, stood before county council and said that they had to secure the property since he wanted to take his 4-year old daughter, whose hand he was holding, fishing in the river there, just has his father had taken him. To make the picture even more complete, the only thing needed was a puppy.

That was it. The county council voted to re-consider their decision, and the Conservation Bank bought the land, and ownership passed to the Lowcountry Land Trust, which conveyed it to the new Dorchester Trust Foundation. Today the foundation leases the land to the county as a passive park, the first park Dorchester County has ever operated.

Had concerned citizens not stepped up, had the Conservation Bank not provided funds, and had the Dorchester County Council not re-considered its decision, the future would have been different. Where now there is a passive park with nature trails enjoyed daily by scores of people along with their dogs, one would instead see acres of condos and pavement, for that is what was proposed after the county council’s refusal to buy. That development would have sparked others like it nearby.

To read the full article, click here.

I tell this story to make four key points:

1. Historic preservation is not so much about the past as it is about the future. What kind of future do we want?
2. Places don’t preserve places. People do. People have to step up and make it happen. Preservation is not a given.
3. The preservation of our environs is often more about what we don’t see than what we do see. At Rosebrock Park and the Ashley River Park, it looks as if nothing has happened, but as you now know, it has.
4. Be persistent, proactive, and positive. Though at times less appealing — and believe me, i know — such attitudes are more effective than the alternatives.

Of course, the Ashley River region is different, but so too is each region in the state. When I first came to Summerville 30 years ago, my fellow preservationists and I went down in defeat to the forces of growth and the persuasive arguments of property rights zealots. But things change if you keep at it. We need to continue to look anew at our own communities and envision the future we wish it could have. We need to develop allies, nearby and even far away. Since new opportunities and new threats constantly arise, our campaigns in the Ashley River region are by no means over. Growth is coming like a tidal wave to the Lowcountry.

Why care? Each of us has to find our own answer. Offering help is Tom Mayes, a friend of mine and vice president of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, who explains in his book, Why Old Places Matter: How Historic Places Affect Our Identity and Well-Being:

“… if we broaden our understanding of the old places in our communities and our own lives, we may help people lead more fulfilling and richer lives. These places spur our memory, delight us with their beauty, help us understand others, give us a deep sense of belonging, and perhaps most fundamentally, remind us who we are.”

 As you reflect on his words and on the old places around you, please remember: you too are standing at the crossroads. Which way do you choose?

 

To read the full article, click here. 

Interested in learning more? Follow the story here:

Making News: Cooks Crossroads

At the Intersection of Cooks Crossroads and Quality of Life

How Do You Manage Change?

 

   

 

Header Image:  thesouthernedgemagazine.com, Winter 2018 Issue

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