How Much Is Enough, Joe?

In his ever–desperate quest to develop every square inch of the peninsula Charleston Mayor Joseph P. Riley Jr. met Wednesday afternoon with architects and others in related fields to discuss plans for the $69 million proposed slave museum in what is now Ansonborough Square (Technically, if they wanted to be correct, it would be Middlesex Square were there land there originally, but alas, alack.)
Am I the only one who sees the irony in this? Twenty years ago, scores of black people were sweating in the brutal August heat in the housing projects on this very space. Their lives were erased by Hurricane Hugo. After the storm, they were told they could no longer live on that space because the ground was contaminated. The project had been built on landfill that happened to have mercury and creosote.
Oh no, we can’t let you move back there. Too dangerous, you see. We’ll build an aquarium, instead. Then we’ll build some condos and businesses anchored by a slave museum.
Great idea!!! Original. There can’t be any other slave museums. Oh wait! We already have one – the oldest in the world.
Then, we’ll have a festival just for black people.
Gosh, that’s right! We have one of those, too.
Hmmm… How are we going to anchor this development? We’ll pretend like we have the funding and support for this project.
The International African-American Museum is to cost at least $70 million. Well, that should turn out well. Look at the aquarium.
In the deepest economic recession in a century, the first thing I’d do is build a slave museum. No matter that there are scores of them.
The museum has already caused problems for some. In a 2008 P&C article, Kyle Stock wrote, “Hoping to avoid a potential conflict of interest, House Majority Leader Jim Clyburn stepped down Monday as chairman of the board of the International African American Museum, which is in the planning stages in Charleston.
“Clyburn, who tucked an $800,000 earmark for the museum into the federal budget approved late last year, said he decided to resign from the board after learning Friday that his nephew, Derrick Ballard, works for one of the two architectural firms recently hired to design the $70-$80 million museum. “
Read the whole article here.
See here, Farrow. You only want this thing to fail because you are a racist. You don’t want the black side of the story told.
Hardly.
An article by Peter Applebaum in the New York Times that appeared in the early 1990s discussed the fact that I was desperately trying to start a black tour, but that no blacks had yet taken the guide test. Thank God, that’s changed. I applaud it. There’s a plethora of black attractions.
Later that year, Kyle Stock wrote another piece called Selling Slavery that details the myriad businesses that now explain slavery. It’s become a cottage industry. I agree with it. It’s using market forces to tell a different side of the story.
Uncle Joe does nothing to help the black community until election time rolls around. This museum is a boondoggle. It now costs $70 million. How much will it cost in five years?
Only $800,000 Rep. Clyburn? That’s a little more than 1%.
How much of the stimulus package included funds for this thing? Honestly. I ask that simply because I have no idea what is in that legislation.
Neither does Joe Riley.
I question the viability of a museum that inevitably will cost a 1/10th of a billion dollars.
How does that help the black community? No really, and don’t tell me jobs. Remember how Charleston Place was supposed to provide jobs? How’d that work out? How many people from Charleston got jobs with the Charlotte construction company (who brought their own crews)? How many locals who’d been on King Street have had to shutter multi-generational businesses?
I would imagine we have other problems.
This isn’t Joe’s only problem. There’s that matter of the bridge run. What do you think?
Comment here.
This is just power for power’s sake. I think Joe’s days of glory are on the wane. I’d be curious to know what you think.

The Charleston Times Forum

Where do you get your news?
What venue informs, excites and ultimately incites you? With whom do communicate? Do you preach to the choir, or do you try to persuade through reason?
I think it’s absurd that the city of Charleston is no longer the center of gravity in the Lowcountry. So much has happened that has been overlooked by Charleston’s mainstream media.
Statewide, the Sanford melodrama continues. How do think that will work out? How do think it should?
You can rectify the situation.
What about nationally? Do you think we should be in Afghanistan? Do you think that health care should be nationalized? What are we not talking about?
More and more we will be phasing from this and Elizabeth’s blog to the main page of The Charleston Times– from there we want to let you access news (print, audio and video) as well as myriad points of view from local columnists. That section will be up shortly, but it is now under construction.
What is ready is the forum. A message board open to all is a way to learn things unmentioned by the mainstream press, to illicit discussions previously unheld.
Where’s all that free broadband?
Have we heard enough about the carriage horses?
How do you feel about Jenny Sanford?
Comment at will. Are we are missing any topics? Let us know!!!
Join us and tell all your friends. This changes everything.
Click here to see the whole forum.

DYKYC?: A Blast From The Past

Many thanks and a tip o’ the DYKYC? hat to John Quincy: http://www.wtmamemories.com.
From the days of yore:
Mike Young of James Island brings up an interesting take on this radio business. While my friends and I listened to radio, we were entertained by its content. Young was entertained by his own agenda. He writes:
“I have reason to believe that I was a participant in the first “chat room”. I didn’t get my first computer until the late eighties and didn’t go online until the early nineties, yet I was communicating electronically with several people simultaneously as early as 1959. It just recently dawned on me that I had ventured into cyberspace over 40 years ago as a teenager in sleepy little Charleston, South Carolina. No, I didn’t invent a revolutionary communication device from spare electronics parts. Our family’s electronic equipment inventory consisted of an AM radio, a black and white 17″ TV, and a hi-fi record player that played only 45 rpm records. It would have taken MacGyver with an assist from Houdini to come up with a new messaging machine using those old vacuum tube powered dinosaurs. Oh yes, we also had a black rotary dial telephone. Only one phone, and it was on a “party line” with two other families. Eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation was fun and informative but that wasn’t the chat room I alluded to.

‘A sense of déjà vu kicked in when I recently logged on to a computer chat room for the first time. I felt instantly that I had done this many, many years ago. My stream of consciousness went something like this: name-it-and-claim-it … pick up phone … dial WTMA … get a busy signal … EUREKA!

“Name-it-and-claim-it” was a wildly popular game/contest that was played nightly by the WTMA radio station audience of the nineteen fifties and sixties. Several times each evening the DJ would announce that the next song would be a “name-it-and-claim-it”, which would prompt every kid (most TMA listeners were 12 to 18 years of age) in the Charleston area to call the radio station. The first person to get through with the correct name of the song would win a gift certificate good for one free 45 rpm record. For those of you under the age of fifty, the 45 was the small record with the large hole. Some of you may have witnessed your tipsy uncle slipping one over each ear and announcing “Look I’m Mickey Mouse!” The gift certificates could be redeemed at the Fox, McClain, or Seigling music stores. My friends and I won a lot of records but the real fun was the phenomenon we experienced when the line was busy.

‘What happened was this: because of the large number of calls to the same number at the same time, those receiving a busy signal were somehow connected and could talk through the bomp-bomp-bomp. Some voices sounded like they were very far away while others were as clear as if they were on a direct line. Like today’s chat rooms people played games and told fibs about their appearance and age (older not younger), but unlike today they usually got busted by someone they knew who was also “on-the-line”. Because of the small size of the city, when you met someone on-the-line you would often find that you had friends in common or in some cases actually knew one another. It was also a much more innocent time so the threat of sex offenders and the like lurking about was unheard of and their adult voices would probably have raised suspicion anyway. Something that I just recently realized is that the folks at WTMA probably had no idea that they were hosting a big party every time they announced a name-it-and-claim-it game. Neither did our parents.

“So you tell me. Was I in the first chat room? Were you there? Was this happening all over America? Would it work today? Hey, let’s check it out. At eight PM tomorrow let’s all call WTMA and see what happens. What do you mean we’re too old? We could just lie about our ages again!”

To be honest, Mike, at my age, I try to lie about my age every chance I get.

Gee Thanks, Dr. Venter

Genesis 2:9 And out of the ground made the LORD God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
2:16 And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat:
2:17 But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.
3:4 And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die:
3:5 For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.
3:6 And when the woman saw that the tree [was] good for food, and that it [was] pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make [one] wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.
3:7 And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they [were] naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.
3:22 And the LORD God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever:
3:23 Therefore the LORD God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken.
3:24 So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.
So let me see if I have this straight. We weren’t supposed to eat from the tree of knowledge, but we did. That gained us consciousness which led to gaining knowledge exponentially. The one thing we treasure most is knowledge.
According to Robert M. Brown, “The total written knowledge in the world is said to have doubled between 1450 and 1750, and then to have doubled again between 1750 and 1900. Between 1900 and 1950, human knowledge doubled once more, and then again from 1950 to 1975. Now, it is believed to double every 900 days. By the year 2020, global knowledge is predicted to double every 72 days.”
Okay.
So what’s the one thing we aren’t to touch? Oh, that would be the tree of life.
The one thing we aren’t supposed to do is eat from the tree of life. If you buy any of this, you have to be wondering what’s next.
Because you see, scientists are only months away from creating artificial life. According to the Daily Mail, Dr. Craig Venter, said his U.S. researchers have overcome one of the last big hurdles in making a synthetic organism.
Read it all here: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1208047/Life-order-Man-organisms-months-say-biologists.html
Well, all I can say if this is true, thanks, Dr. Venter. Thanks a lot.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?

I am a middle-aged multi-generational white Charleston male. Under those parameters, it’s probably best I stay away from these town hall debacles.
Being Southern these days we are the piñata for the drive-by media. We are demonized, called Nazis and portrayed as sloped forehead morons.
We are kinda sick of it, to tell you the truth.
Twenty years ago, I was giving a tour for three Harvard professors, two history and one philosophy. We were by the Circular Church graveyard when I began to discuss the philosopher John Locke’s influence on the colony.
One of the gentlemen who was about 60 accosted me.
“That’s not true,” he said with contempt.
I began to explain the relationship between Fundamental Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.
Another tweed spit, “That can’t be true.”
The other man was nodding in agreement. I was thunderstruck.
Today, I would say, “Google it.”
Then I could only defend myself. These men looked at me askance as though surprised that I stood erect much less completing sentences.
Finally exasperated, I demanded to know how they knew it wasn’t true.
Smugly, one them explained, “Because I never heard this before.”
It was one of three tours in my entire 20-year career that I threw under the bus. There was no point in wasting everyone’s time.
I am one of those idiots to whom Kathleen Parker referred when she wrote, “”Sarah Palin may not have realized what she was doing, but Southerners weaned on Harper Lee heard the dog whistle.”
On “Hardball,” she said: “You don’t position a white woman and a black male and pretend like there’s nothing happening there. There’s a deep history. That’s why I mentioned Harper Lee in there.”
I live in a neighborhood that is roughly 50/50. After I read that, I resisted the urge to run up to people at Food Lion and snarl, “So how’s that Mandingo thing going for you?”
Well, no I didn’t. I did, however, think, who better to comprehend the Southern zeitgeist than a upper middle-class woman from Winter Park, Florida?
I agree with the late Shelby Foote that black and white in the South developed a symbiosis. Neither could do without the other. It a relationship that defines being Southern. As the shirts say, “You wouldn’t understand.”
Considering that more Yankees live in the Charleston area than do natives, it will all soon be rendered moot.
I do want to point out that I was not alive during slavery and was a toddler when Jim Crow ended. I had nothing to do with it, so please shut up.
Back when 9/11 happened, the imbroglio over the Confederate flag and the Capitol was in full fray. I wrote then that it was time to put it all away. We weren’t Southern, we were American.
We are still at war, but our success has made us fat and lazy much like Charleston in May of 1863. We have had time to demonize each other.
The media and the Northeast elitist media have once again cast my ilk as unenlightened Neanderthals who beat puppies in our spare time.
If it all goes wrong, don’t ask us for help.

Binding Books?

PETA has won once here in the Lowcountry and they are mobilizing nationally for a fight over the carriage industry. They gave it a shot earlier this year. The above video was people’s reactions back then:
On April 10th, Brian Hicks wrote, “This week, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals attacked Charleston horse carriage tours, said they ought to be banned because horses are forced to dodge cars, breathe car exhaust and walk on the pavement all day long in the heat.”
He concluded, “So PETA will have to get progressively wilder to make ends meet. Maybe they’ll start a campaign to arm deer so hunting is a more evenly matched sport. Or they’ll argue for slower cars so the dogs can actually catch them.
“But they aren’t going to get anywhere in Charleston, thanks to Mayor Joe Riley. New York City argued over carriage tours for about two years. Riley put this one to rest in less than a day.
“He told PETA they were barking up the wrong tree. Again.”
Well, maybe not. Nancy Lane opened Pandora’s Box.
Zealot: 1 capitalized : a member of a fanatical sect arising in Judea during the first century a.d. and militantly opposing the Roman domination of Palestine
2 : a zealous person; especially : a fanatical partisan
From Wikapedia: People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) is an animal rights organization based in Norfolk, Virginia, USA. With two million members and supporters worldwide, it says it is the largest animal rights group in the world. Ingrid Newkirk is its international president.[1]
Founded in 1980, the organization is a nonprofit, tax exempt, 501(c)(3) corporation with 187 employees, funded almost entirely by its members. It focuses on four core issues: factory farming, fur farming, animal testing, and animals in entertainment, and also campaigns against fishing, the killing of animals regarded as pests, the keeping of chained backyard dogs, cock fighting, dog fighting, and bullfighting. It aims to inform the public through advertisements, undercover investigations, animal rescue, and lobbying. Its slogan is “animals are not ours to eat, wear, experiment on, or use for entertainment.”[2]
The organization has been criticized for the style and content of its campaigns, and for the number of animals it euthanizes. It was also criticized in 2005 by Oklahoma Senator Jim Inhofe, who said it had acted as a “spokesgroup” for the Earth Liberation Front and Animal Liberation Front, after those groups were listed in a draft planning document as domestic terrorist threats by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.
Back in 2007, PETA closed down the egg production at Mepkin Abbey in Moncks Corner. The monks had been sustaining themselves for 40 years by selling eggs. Piggly Wiggly bought a lot of them and Charlestonians ate abbey eggs for generations.
PETA garnered support to close down the operation by getting national attention when they picketed Piggly Wiggly.
A Post and Courier article by Doug Parque that ran on December 20 stated, “Father Stan Gumula, Abbot of Mepkin Abbey, said the press release that the monastery decided instead to close down the egg operation, but maintains that its egg facilities were properly operated.
“While the Monks are sad to give up work that has sustained them for many years, a hard and honorable work for which we are proud, the pressure from PETA has made it difficult for them to live their quiet life of prayer, work and sacred reading,” the press release says. “The monks have also found it difficult to extend hospitality, which is their hallmark, under such conditions.”
That’s why people were so incensed at Nancy Lane’s attempt to use PETA. Actually, the organization was trying to use her.
During our interview, she wrote, “I have completely washed my hands of PETA when I realized they weren’t telling me the whole story. I made it clear to them when I made the first contact that I didn’t want them to worry for the other carriage companies, I only wanted them to focus on [the carriage company].
“The lady from PETA was putting a huge amount of pressure on me to go downtown to take pictures of [the carriage company] and their carriages. I felt that it was a stupid idea because the carriage drivers from all the companies would recognize me and I felt as though it would provoke a fight. I have heard that some of the drivers feel that I am the one responsible for the horse’s deaths. The [owners] have told everyone that I was instructed to “spare no expense” taking care of their horses. PETA felt as though a fight would be great because it would cause attention. PETA kept telling me that they had activists in Charleston so I said to the lady if she wanted pictures to have her “activists” take them because I was not going to do it. She ended up saying that her main activist was in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer otherwise she would. I still refused.
“Soon after this confrontation the PETA lady called again to tell me about the city council meeting on July 21st. She was angry because I said I didn’t plan to attend. I had been told that [the carriage company] wasn’t on the agenda but they would definitely be talked about afterwards (privately) so I didn’t think it would be a good idea to look like a “crazy” and confront the council during the public session. PETA said [the carriage company] was definitely on the agenda and that if I really cared about the horses, I would go. I decided that I would go and just listen. It is my understanding that the city council can’t do anything until the citations are dealt with. Thank goodness the wrong time and place was listed on the website because I didn’t make it home in time to get ready to go. Then I received this email:
From Ellen Harley
tonancymlane@gmail.com
dateTue, Jul 21, 2009 at 6:35 PM
subjectCarriage animals
Nancy; I understand you are the person who has cared for the carriage animals Carolina Polo discarded. Thank you for doing so and for coming forward. What a difference you have already made by “going public”.
I want to introduce myself. I have been working on the carriage horse issue in the City of Charleston since 2001. We formed a citizens’ committee; Carriage Horse Safety Committee comprised of taxpayers in the City of Charleston and concerned folks who wish to see better more humane working conditions for carriage animals in Charleston. We have been working on a website and plan to roll it out next week. I am attaching a letter I sent this afternoon to City Council.
In the ensuing years we have collected much information on carriage animals nationwide as well as studies on heat and horses. As one research vet said to me, “The research is there. This is a political issue.”
My husband and I have a farm in Massachusetts and we have 10 acres fenced with stalls and a run-in shed. We would love to house/care for any of these animals. We can provide for them year-round as we have folks familiar with equine care who help with our animals. We can provide the transportation as well. There is also a large plantation outside Charleston whose owner is very willing to take rescue carriage animals.
I can be reached at: ellen.harley@gmail.com or (843) 412-8174. Ellen

“I thought the email was very strange because she didn’t even understand my story but was writing me. Then Massachusetts clicked. Possibly Martha’s Vineyard. I never responded to her and then [name withheld] started getting emails from her. “
The e-mails go on and on.
To read more about Ellen Harley, go here: http://charlestontourguidebitchblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/stubborn-as-mule-or-smarter-than-local.html
I have watched the carriage industry evolve over the last 30 years. The only way they could have survived was to treat their animals well. As many on the video stated, PETA doesn’t know what they are talking about.
I don’t want to see the carriage industry hurt. I don’t want to see any particular company hurt.
Indeed, I was threatened to be sued in a veiled way when I did the piece on Nancy Lane. If I am, it will be interesting what we find on discovery.
Again, I’d rather not do that. I don’t want to see anyone lose their job.
PETA is looking for Utopia. They won’t find it here.
People looking for Utopia end up with a grotesque dystopia. Stop and think about it. If PETA were to destroy the carriage industry, Ole Maude will be binding books.

Out of Context? Mark Sanford Editorial

In my first race for Congress a local reporter in Myrtle Beach had taken a few words from an interview and used them in a different context to paint a picture that was far from what I believed. When I confronted him on taking my words out of context his simple reply was, “Life is out of context.”

I believed then, as I do today, that when reporters, who are supposedly there to simply report the news, do these sorts of things in telling the story they favor, it isn’t right – and it seems to me this past weekend’s story on airplane travel falls along these lines.

I’ve always held the media, the so-called fourth branch of government, in high regard as holding people accountable is absolutely vital to the working of an open political system. I messed up and deserve my licks for it – but this doesn’t give some in the media license to write as they please. Anyone with a busy and intertwined life can be made to look foolish if one ignores the larger context of travel within the state – so let me offer two points of context and then a couple of examples showing why I believe this past weekend’s story and its approach are wrong.

The first point of context would be that I have used the state plane less than my predecessors. When measuring four year terms, Governor Campbell flew 451.6 hours, Governor Beasley flew 303.17 hours and Governor Hodges flew 310.06 hours, while I flew 228.95 hours.

I’ve always tried to watch out for the taxpayer dime and accordingly have tried to be as judicious as possible in using the state plane. I tried to go the extra mile here because of the 228.95 hours I flew roughly 70 were actually in the single engine Cessna DNR owns, because whenever I had a chance I tried to use this small plane that has an operating cost about 1/5th that of the King Air – saving taxpayers more than $60,000. No governor has done this before, and it is hardly “gubernatorial” in its look and feel, but I thought it was worth the savings. As an administration we also sold the fraction interest in the Hawker jet, which had transatlantic capability and saved more than $1.5 million. We consolidated helicopter and fixed wing aircraft use between SLED and DNR for several hundred thousands of dollars of additional savings. As well, we decided to rent out both the Governor’s summer residence in Charleston and the Lace House at the Governor’s residence, generating hundreds of thousands of dollars for the state.

The second point of context is that out of the 353 hours flown over the last six and a half years, some in the media have called into question about 7 hours of flight. That represents two percent of the total flight hours taken.

A few examples:

The article suggests I had “flown back to my favorite hair salon”. I did call the office on my way back from official state business in Myrtle Beach to say I wanted to drop by for a haircut – but this so-called hair salon in this case is a walk-in Great Clips where you can get an $11 haircut. Why in the world would I rush back to keep an “appointment” at a place that doesn’t take appointments?

The article says “I flew the family back from Beaufort on Thanksgiving weekends.” Does anyone believe that Jenny – or in particular the boys – really wanted to leave their Thanksgiving weekend early to walk down the State House steps for the annual Governor’s Christmas Tree Lighting? If that isn’t official business, I don’t know what is – and it’s been expected of governors to attend for the last 42 years.

The article says that “I flew from Columbia to Mt. Pleasant for a dentist appointment.” It is true that I went by the dentist office for 15 minutes because I chipped my tooth, but this is hardly the larger context of the visit. At 4 pm on that day, the 23rd of March 2005, I testified before the Senate Finance Sub-Committee on our income tax proposal; I had the chance to tell thousands of people on the coast about it through an in-studio interview with Channel 2 at 6:50. Not knowing when the subcommittee would end, the state plane was used so that I would be certain of making the interview.

I won’t belabor the point, but it is a simple one. Inevitably, I am certain that there is something our office did less than perfect in my constant moving around the state, but I can say with equal clarity that it was always within the context of trying to maximize my days and watch out for the taxpayer in the process.

DYKYC?: A PERCH AT THE MERCH

One thing I recall about my “in the trenches” period of giving tours was the end of the day routine at Big John’s in the late 1980s. I would drag myself from the Market after having walked six hours straight in the heat and humidity that Saigon would be envious of, across the broken slate sidewalks over to the East Bay recessed doorway.
Opening that door into the cool, dark place was a portal to another world, one where few tourists dared to tread in the late 1980s. I would pass the regulars perched on the stools like seagulls along Murray Boulevard at dawn, each enveloped in their own world. Barely nodding at me one by one like a ripple as I walked to the end of the bar, I would take my seat, open the Evening Post and devour it as the first beer was delivered and consumed.
I sat in the blessed cool and dark as Johnny Mathis wandered through that wonderland alone to the crack of pool balls spinning and pinballs careening their random clanging paths. The chill dried the copious sweat dripping from my forehead.
It was pretty well known that as I did the crossword, it would be best to avoid speaking to me as I wrote “attar” in one down; by the third beer, I was civil again.
Big John’s was my bellwether for women. If a girl could deal with John’s rants, we were good.
Twenty years before in 1968, I remember dating an 18-year old girl from Augusta, Georgia, when I was 15. I thought I was Mr. Big Stuff as I ordered two draft beers while the Four Tops crooned, “many a tear has to fall…”
Forty-one years later, I am dating a girl from Augusta, Maine and there is but one Top.
When I got married in 1989, I used to hang out at AC’s. One Saturday afternoon I was sitting at the bar with Tersh Lynch and the rest of the crew. My friend, Lenny, was behind the bar.
The phone rang as Golden Earring intoned, “Help, I’m slipping into the Twilight Zone…”
I told Lenny amid the shouting at Smoltz throwing Ball 4 that I wasn’t there.
“David’s not here,” he answered.
His entire face said, “Oops” and grew red as he said, “Yes, m’am, Mrs. Farrow. He’s right here.”
My thought was, “Why would my mother even know this place existed?”
That never happened again.
What about you? Did you ever leave your car overnight at the Flying Dutchman having been hypnotized by the color-coded dance floor? Was your mind blown at Alice’s Underground?
Did you meet the love of your life at the Garden and Gun Club? Did you see the Byrds at MacNamara’s?
Tonight at Art’s New Seaside, the Tams (today, it’s the Tam)… Burger Beer for a quarter… driving home with one headlight on the two lane old bridge.
Do you know a soul who went to the Basement Pub?
The best steak in Charleston in 1972 was at the bus station restaurant.
There was once topless gambling at the 5 O’Clock Club. Really. There was a blackjack room in which the dealers were au natural. Kind of a ripoff; after all, it was rigged for the house – nothing like a bunch of toasted sailors on leave. Think there was sharp attention on the cards at 3 in the morning?
Did you ever “perch at the Merch?’
Let me know. Did you find what you were looking for at the Three Nags?
Was the Tiki Lounge your kind of place?
Did you ever watch the late Jeremiah Glover play music at the pizza place next to the Patio; the Killer Whales at Harry’s, Diane Scanlon at Myskyns?
My memories are but a miniscule slice of the richness of remembrance – yours are the recipe.

Get Them to the Country Quickly… Before They Die

“[The owner] and [the barn manager] had always talked about how lazy and slow Joker was but they still loved him because he was their original horse and everyone downtown knew Joker by name.
“August 17, 2008. I arrived to the (other) farm in the morning and saw Joker dead in the pasture… I told [the barn manager], and he asked if you could see his body from the road because [the owner] was concerned that people driving by would see him. I said I had covered him up with a tarp. This was the first time that I realized these animals were ‘disposable’ to [the barn manager] and [the owners].”

Author’s Note: In all my years of reporting, I have never been so conflicted about writing a story. It is a story that begs to be told, but in relating it, I will not only step on some pretty big toes, but also risk a life-long friendship. The toes deserve to be stepped on, but the friends deserve their say.
After four tries for a comment, the carriage company responded with this e-mail: ‘Thanks very much for your expressions of personal concern. I want you to know that Ms. Lane’s published statements are false, fabricated and harmful to us. We are considering legal action against her for defamation. I believe your own reactions to her statements, as expressed in the draft you sent me, confirm our position that what she has said is harmful to us. However, we are not in a position to comment further about this until the legal matters involving City Livability Court have been resolved. Although the tickets we have received from the city have nothing to do with Ms. Lane’s accusations, any further publication about those accusations could only prejudice our rights to an unbiased forum at this time. Accordingly, we may be willing to speak with you after the court case has been concluded. In the meantime I hope you will consider our position in deciding whether to publish the draft you sent to me, and that you will not contribute further to communicating these false accusations.”
This is an issue that has tempers raging and accusations being hurled like incoming missiles. My question has been all along, “What does Nancy Lane stand to gain personally?” She didn’t even know these people before they came to her. Why would she take such incredibly meticulous notes just to make this stuff up?
I spoke with many people about this, my lawyer, an old journalistic friend, an editor and they all asked this question: If these people weren’t good friends, would you follow the story? Is there a need to know? Does this story really need to be told?
I actually lost sleep over this. After two weeks, I decided that, yes. Yes, it did. What I am going to do, however, is not use the accused party’s real name. Those close to the family or the facts of the case will recognize who the article is about, but this is an inflammatory situation.
It is also heartrending and compelling.
Unlike many involved, I am not looking for vengeance. I am getting no remuneration. I only want to correct a wretched situation and make sure it doesn’t happen again.
An old friend sent me an email about three weeks ago because of comments I had recently made in this space about the carriage industry. She thought I might be interested in a story involving one particular company.
Part of her missive read, “I need your help and input; a friend and I have become involved in trying to help Nancy Lane who cared for [the carriage company’s] horses and polo ponies at a farm outside Charleston.
“Bottom line is that carriage horses in horrendous shape were dumped in the country and out of the limelight downtown for many reasons. Nancy, a horseperson, was employed by [the owner] and the majority of the time that she called and asked for medical treatment/support was ignored.
“Am sure you are aware of the city’s involvement and [the owner] retaining [an attorney]. The city attorney is doing an investigation, has NOT asked for any additional input from Nancy and probably wants all of this to go away, be settled out of court and brushed under the table. Several former employees have confirmed the same abuse but don’t want to dirty their hands.”
My skin crawled as I read the document and looked at the pictures. The file was compiled by Nancy Lane, a woman living in Ravenel who was taking care of horses for a carriage company currently scheduled to appear on August 17 in a City of Charleston Livability Court.
As I read further, I realized that while this story paralleled the ones in the Post and Courier, it cast a wider berth and would have more lasting consequences.
Nancy Lane tells a compelling story about carriage horses that died after collapsing on city streets while pulling tour carriages, of owners who refused to get veterinary help for sick horses and of a system that wants to blame her – not the carriage horse owners — because she worked for the carriage company and had housed their horses.
Delving deeper into the story, it was obvious that Ms. Lane not only feared for the horses but for her credibility.
“I knew before reporting [the carriage company] that I would lose my home, my horses, and my life here,” she said. “This portion of my life has never been about the money, only happiness.”
But then it turned ugly. Veterinary care was sometimes hard to come by, and the carriage company would drop off sick horses at her farm in the middle of the night.
“Every morning as I drove down the driveway on the farm I would start counting horses and looking to see if one was on the ground. I can’t explain the sense of dread I felt going there, expecting to find one of them dead.”
From the start Lane feared the carriage company owner had “connections,” but she felt she had no recourse than to continue trying to help the horses. She kept a journal as a caregiver and in this she wrote of one horse named Beau. “He obviously was foundering and malnourished. His hooves are green colored. [Name withheld], an employee of [the carriage company], filed a complaint with animal control about Beau’s condition. Nothing was done. An employee warned me later that the city protected the [the owners].”
Nancy Lane had no one to turn to.
The media was ignoring her, and she was concerned for her well being. The 45-year old mother of an adult child contacted the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) because she felt she had nowhere else to go. Her contacts with the city had been frightening.
“Danielle Dillahey (City of Charleston Tourism Management) called me to let me know that she was the wrong person to report issues with the horses to,” she wrote.
Dillahey told Lane that she would need to personally file a formal complaint with city animal control before her complaint would get a response and said Lane could call anytime with questions. Lane said she thought had already filed a complaint through the tourism office and she did not know there was more than one animal control department.
When Lane called city animal control to file a complaint she was told the complaint had already been investigated. The woman who took Lane’s call said an officer had already gone to the barn and everything was fine. Confused, Lane again identified herself and said she was calling about a dead horse named Samson.
“Finally she put Officer Matt Storen on the phone. I tried to explain my concerns to him when he interrupted and said he had a copy of my complaint. He then asked me why I would call PETA and how could I expect him to do his job with PETA ‘breathing down his neck..’”
“I defended my call to PETA explaining that I was NEVER against the carriage companies as a whole, I only wanted [name withheld] to give at least the basic care to his horses,” Lane wrote.
Storen “said they were short-handed (only two officers) and they followed every complaint as best as they could. I also explained my concerns that the city ignored complaints.”
Lane said Storen told her he remembered investigating a complaint the year before and seeing a malnourished and foundering horse named Beau, but said he could not do anything because the employee wanted to remain anonymous (in fear for her job.)
The officer assured Lane that her complaint about Samson, would be investigated.
Storen also stunned Nancy Lane with the news that she was being investigated by Charleston County Animal Control because she owned the property where the horses had died. Lane asked why she should be responsible when (the carriage company) dumped colicky horses in her pastures at midnight and lied about it.
“How is it my fault Samson died?” she asked.
“He said it didn’t matter, as long as I accepted a paycheck from [name withheld], I was responsible. He said if he were me, he would just let the city investigate and not push anymore.”
When contacted, Officer Storen denied that he ever said anything of the kind about PETA, the city investigating or her pushing anymore.
“Why would I make this up?” she responded.

***
NANCY LANE’S DREAM COMES TRUE

Nancy Lane looks like she should be tending horses. With a solid build and demure demeanor, the Florida native thought she had found her Shangri-La on a small farm in Ravenel, a small community outside Charleston on the way to Savannah. It was a dream come true.
Her eyes are alive as she tells of life in Florida in the 1960s, the youngest of seven brothers and sisters, and a lifelong horse lover.
“Practically every gift I received had something to do with horses. Cowboys or Indians, I didn’t care as long as they were on a horse.”
Married at 18, she bore her son, Joseph, at 21. The marriage didn’t take. Divorced at 28, she said she spent 12 years providing for her son by working retail jobs, working her way up from assistant manager to district manager. She kept her promise to stay in one city for Jason to have four years at one high school. Then, when he decided against college, Lane decided it was time for her to make herself happy.
“I have never been in love with money,” she said. ‘”I don’t really need shiny things.”
Lane has family here and spent her vacations in Charleston. Her family helped her move here four years ago. Her dreams came true. She started a business feeding horses whenever someone needed it.
“I drove from farm to farm almost like a postal route. I have learned that it takes a lot more than “book smarts” to care for horses. At 40 I owned (if you can truly own) my first horse, Dusty. He is the love of my life after my son. As I learned, I started caring for horses on my farm; I rented 100 acres in the middle of the woods in Ravenel.”
She said all went well until she ran across the carriage company owners. A pall of sadness comes over her face as she exclaims, “What started as my ultimate dream has turned into a crazy nightmare because of [the carriage company].”
But the early days of her endeavor were heady.
“I started working for a feed store and would hear customers asking the manager if she knew anyone who fed horses,” she said wistfully. “I would volunteer and for a minimal charge would go to their homes or farms to do whatever was needed to care for the horses.”
She developed a customer base and would feed animals for families on vacation. She fed for local veterinarians, large farms with 20-plus animals and small families with a horse and a goat, everything from emus to iguanas.
Her customer base started slipping with the economy. Her complaints about the carriage company have taken their toll.
“Times are tight and people were letting their animals go and not taking vacations. I still worked for a couple of families and the two carriage companies when I reported [the carriage company]. I knew before reporting [the carriage company] that I would lose my home, my horses, and my life here. This portion of my life has never been about the money, only happiness.”
So where was she to turn? Her pleas for help fell on apathetic ears.
Ms. Lane explains that the aforementioned employee of the carriage company filed a complaint with animal control about the treatment of a carriage horse. She says when she reached the barn the officials were laughing about an “anonymous complaint.”
She said the carriage company wanted to give two horses to the CPD mounted patrol. Exasperation and sadness twists her face as she describes what happened.
“They tested the animals,” she said. “One was rejected. Nobody did a thing. I realized I had to get outside South Carolina.
“Most of the people I have come in contact with have wanted to stay behind the scenes in fear of ruffling the wrong feathers in this town.
“I have come under scrutiny because I was the caretaker of these horses when they were neglected, abused and in five cases died. I have tried to make people understand that I was [the carriage company’s] employee,” she said.
“I didn’t have authority to authorize a veterinary visit, they would only advise me over the phone or if they were at my farm treating the other carriage companies horses. [The carriage company] controlled where, what brand and how much feed and hay was given.
‘I had to get approvals for any over the counter medicine or supplies. I could only beg for the proper care to be provided.”
Lane said regular boarding facilities usually have a contract and the boarding facility is responsible for feed, hay, worming, and other basic care. In most cases they also have signed statements authorizing veterinary care.
“I didn’t have any of that,” she said.
“The city has washed their hands of my complaint because the abuse happened in the county. So many people say thank you for coming forward and giving your name. I am very uncomfortable with that.
“The horses are still suffering. Nothing has been fixed.”

Helping Horses, Keeping Notes

Nancy Lane has developed quite a standing for her care and love of horses. Although spread out, the horse community in the Lowcountry is a small one. Her penchant for detail and knowledge earned her an excellent reputation.
Tommy Doyle of Palmetto Carriage Works told this reporter, “ I’ve known Nancy for three or four years. I got to know her through Red Top Feed and later when she started feeding at my farm.
“I can’t begin to tell you how much I think of Nancy. She is dependable, honest and sincere. I know very few people that have a heart as big as hers (sometimes to her demise). While calling PETA I think is hurting her cause, I think her heart was in the right place just with the wrong people.
“I live on a secluded farm on Johns Island with my family and my animals. The duties of running a carriage business start before dark and end well after dark, throw running my farm into the mix, it required me to get someone to help with chores. Nancy was the one I wanted no question. I needed someone I could trust around my animals, my family, and someone that would make the best decision for my animals when I couldn’t be there.
“Not only does Nancy feed at my farm on the regular basis, she does critical care for my animals. A lot of time treating a horse when it is ill doesn’t occur at the best times. In the middle of the night or when I am at work. Nancy comes to my farm trailers the horse to her place, and will watch it all day and night and call the vet if necessary. This is an invaluable service to me and the horse.
“Nancy’s going to PETA has been bad for my industry. Any criticism of my industry, whether I am involved or not, I take very personally. It bothered me very much and has challenged our friendship and business relationship. But to say Nancy is a liar or someone who neglects animals is simply not true. I trust her at my farm with my animals anytime!”
“What you see is what you get,” said one woman well ensconced in Charleston equine circles. “She’s got a reputation for being forthright and honest. She’s not looking for money or reputation. She’s in it for love of the animals.
“I’ve seen her report. She did a great job of documenting things.”
And that she did. Her meticulous report is 38 pages (click here to read it; http://www.thecharlestontimes.com/horse.mht Warning: these records and photos are disturbing).
It begins, “I was employed by (carriage company owner) in July 2007 to start feeding at the farm on July 19, 2007. When I arrived, I could tell that these horses were being neglected and I called [company owner’s son] to let him know that his barn manager had not been feeding these animals. There were eight round bales of hay in the pasture but all the horses were underweight and looking of poor health.”
Lane asked the company owner’s son to move the worst one, a horse named Ice, to a separate pasture for treatment. She even suggested they move the horse to Lane’s land since there wasn’t a separate pasture where the horse was being kept with more than a dozen other horses.
Her farm became a vacation resting spot for some carriage horses, but she says the owners used it as a dumping ground for sick horses. It was a secret they tried hard to keep from animal control.
“He said Ice was old and a hard keeper,” Lane said. He told me “she has looked like that for a while but if I thought I could help her they would be happy to bring her because if animal control saw her they might not understand.”
Nancy Lane kept a detailed journal about the horses. Here are some of their stories.

Joker’s Story from Lane Journal.

July 28, 2007 Joker, a downtown draft horse was seen by Edisto Equine Clinic (EEC) and diagnosed with Anhydrosis. He had a high temperature and high white blood count indicating infection. He was put on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory meds.
August 8, 2007 Joker was brought to my house for care. I noted on that week’s invoice he was having problems with his hooves.
July 31, 2008 at approximately 1:00pm, I received a phone call from a friend downtown who said they saw one of [the carriage company’s] draft horses pulling a carriage full of people collapse on King Street. I asked if they knew which one and they said no.
Approximately 5:00pm, [the barn manager] called and said he was 15 minutes away from my farm with Joker and he was colicing a little. I asked if the vet had been called and he said no, it wasn’t a bad colic.
Joker was just “off” in the morning so they gave him Banamine and sent him to work it off. I asked if Joker was the one who went down on King Street and [the barn manager] laughed saying, ‘That’s Joker.”
“[The owner] and [the barn manager] had always talked about how lazy and slow Joker was but they still loved him because he was their original horse and everyone downtown knew Joker by name.
They said the drivers really had to push Joker to get him back to the barn in an hour to pick up his next load. I was watching Joker and he just looked lethargic, not the normal colic I had seen so far.
August 11, 2008 The [barn manager] called and said [the owner] was complaining that Joker didn’t need to be at my house anymore and he was tired of paying boarding at two different farms. I told [the barn manager] that there wasn’t enough shade at the (other) farm to protect Joker and he would also be fighting other horses. [The barn manager] said [the owner] said to return him.
August 17, 2008. I arrived to the (other) farm in the morning and saw Joker dead in the pasture. I called [the barn manager] and he told me to call Sterling Farms to have them bury him. Sterling Farms advised me that they wouldn’t be able to make it out until Monday afternoon.
I told [the barn manager], and he asked if you could see his body from the road because [the owner] was concerned that people driving by would see him. I said I had covered him up with a tarp. This was the first time that I realized these animals were ‘disposable’ to [the barn manager] and [the owners].”

Drayton’s Story from Lane Journal

April 29, 2008 Sometime after I left the farm, Drayton, a draft from downtown, was dumped at the farm. No one even called to tell me I had an extra horse.
April 30, 2008 A horse was acting upset with something in the back of the field so I walked out and found Drayton in the back behind trees. He was lying on the ground, covered in sweat, refusing to get up. At first I thought colic so I ran back to my truck to grab Banamine and a bucket of water. I ran back, gave him the shot, and dumped the bucket of water on him. I called ___ to get a vet and ask what happened. [The barn manager] said that Drayton was fine when he left him but must be colicing now.
[The barn manager] called the vet to authorize the visit. I kept bring Drayton buckets of water which he drank until full so I knew it wasn’t colic.
Grayson Clark, from EEC, arrived around 2:00pm and I was able to get Drayton up but he was having spasms in all four legs. He would shake each one out before he could put it back down again. The vet, drew blood and tubed him but she was at a loss as to what was the matter. Grayson would only say maybe it was neurological.
“[The barn manager] was finally able to transport Drayton to my house at 7:00 pm. I gave him more Banamine and started rubbing all his legs with liniment oil. He laid down three more times during the next 24 hours. I would let him stay down for a couple of hours to rest before forcing him to get back up again. Grayson was worried he would stop blood flow if down too long. Standing or lying down the spasms never stopped.
May 1, 2008 Veterinarian returns to Lane farm at 10 p.m. for different client.
“While she was tubing the other animal we saw Drayton go down again. When she was finished, she walked over to check Drayton and was concerned about his lethargic actions. We tried to get him up in vain. We tied ropes to his legs and rolled him from side to side.
“We threw buckets of water directly in his face. He wouldn’t even try to move. After playing the game of calling [the barn manager] to say the horse needed to be put down, waiting for [The barn manager] to call [the owner] ([The owner] won’t answer my phone calls unless he has told [the barn manger] to have me call him direct), [the barn manager] calling back saying [the owner] said Grayson couldn’t put him down, Grayson getting [the owner’s] phone number and leaving him a message, waiting for [the owner] to call back
“Finally around 11:45 p.m., I could hear through Grayson’s phone, [the owner] arguing that Drayton was fine and didn’t need a vet or to be put down. He said he never authorized this visit. She explained she was here for another customer. He finally relented when Grayson explained she had consulted with Dr. Malark and he concurred.
“We put him down at midnight. I called John Sterling at Sterling Farms to bury Drayton in my pasture on 05.02.08”
Nancy Lane’s log goes on for 38 pages. This account has stirred groups throughout the country. E-mail after e-mail is calling for this particular carriage company’s head and wants to eradicate the industry as a whole.
Ms. Lane is concerned about all the negative attention this controversy is bringing to the entire Charleston carriage industry. She doesn’t want to shut down carriage tours, nor does she want to see the company with which she was associated hurt.
Her biggest concern is that the animals are cared for properly. She says her attitude is ‘go and sin no more.”
Nancy Lane said she finally contacted People for the Ethical treatment of Animals, having no place else to turn.
“Who else in the city would I go to? I didn’t want an investigation of the entire industry. I just wanted the abuse to stop. I wasn’t after vengeance, I was after justice. I really didn’t want to go to PETA, but I needed somebody with money and power. I spent a whole day looking for someone, anyone, who would help me.
“PETA was the only organization that would take it on.”

PETA – THE PROBLEM NOT THE CURE

Now she regrets ever being linked to them).
She says she is not at all political. Her only agenda was that there be oversight in this case. She brought in PETA because she had concerns that by going against the powers that be, that the owners’ relationship with City Hall would be protected and that she would suffer undue consequences. No one would help her, so she turned to PETA not realizing the door she was opening.
In an e-mail on August 1st, she writes, “I have completely washed my hands of PETA when I realized they weren’t telling me the whole story. I made it clear to them when I made the first contact that I didn’t want them to worry for the other carriage companies, I only wanted them to focus on (the carriage company.)
‘The lady from PETA was putting a huge amount of pressure on me to go downtown to take pictures of (the company) and their carriages. I felt that it was a stupid idea because the carriage drivers from all the companies would recognize me and I felt as though it would provoke a fight. I have heard that some of the drivers feel that I am the one responsible for the horse’s deaths. The [owners] have told everyone that I was instructed to “spare no expense” taking care of their horses.
“PETA felt as though a fight would be great because it would cause attention. PETA kept telling me that they had activists in Charleston so I said to the lady if she wanted pictures to have her “activists” take them because I was not going to do it. She ended up saying that her main activist was in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer otherwise she would. I still refused.
‘Soon after this confrontation the PETA lady called again to tell me about the city council meeting on July 21st. She was angry because I said I didn’t plan to attend. I had been told that (the carriage company) wasn’t on the agenda but they would definitely be talked about afterwards (privately) so I didn’t think it would be a good idea to look like a “crazy” and confront the council during the public session.”
Nancy Lane will be in her home in Tuzanapan, Mexico, by the end of August. Lest one get the idea that she decided to cause a lot of trouble then vamoose, she insists that the move has been planned for years. She had no idea the furor all of her actions would cause.
Who knows where all of this information might lead? If the e-mails that have crossed this desk are any indication, there seems to be a battle royale brewing between PETA and the city of Charleston that has national implications. PETA wants to make Charleston carriage horses an international cause célèbre.
Some argue that unlike the annual “Look at that horse sweat” wringing of hands, the radical national organization poses a real problem. Ask Mepkin Abbey.
Ms. Lane wants no part of it. She doesn’t want to see the company she worked with closed down. She realizes that people’s jobs are at stake. Her concern is not about tourism; it is not about the arcane rules of Charleston politics.
She has but one interest — Make sure that the horses under the company’s aegis are safe, fed and tended to in a timely and correct fashion.
She doesn’t speak for a moment, her eyes focusing somewhere between the room and infinity. Her good natured smile morphs into deep concern as she states flatly, “That’s all I really want to happen.”

Elizabeth: Here come the Clunkers

I guess it’s been a pretty slow news week. The top story continues to be the “Cash for Clunkers” deal. I think by now, whether via the news media or the relentless commercials, we are all familiar with what the program offers. Bring us your tired, your gas-guzzling, your high-mileage, ozone-depleting vehicles and we will offer you up to $4,500 on a shiny, new car!

Sounds like a nice plan—after all, it has been working like a charm in Europe for quite some time now. Or, maybe, just maybe it is another loosely veiled bailout plan for the ‘big three.’ Whatever the heck you call it, it’s working like a charm. Already in one week, the $1 billion slated for the program is about to run out. Of course, the National Automobile Dealers Association thinks the plan is just ducky saying, “the federal incentive of up to $4,500, coupled with automaker rebates…puts a new vehicle within reach for many American families.”

The governor of Michigan, Jennifer Granholm, also sings its praises for her floundering state saying, “it will help our great domestic automakers move vehicles off the showroom floor, and it will help our environment by getting less efficient models off the road.”

Well, what does the used-car industry think about all of this? The vehicles everyone is trading in at the dealerships are being summarily destroyed (at the dealer’s expense.) That means, at the very least, 250,000 fewer cars going to the used-car lots. The Automotive Aftermarket Industry Association has stated that they, “strongly oppose ‘Cash for Clunkers’ because it prematurely destroys vehicles with many more years of useful life, denying consumers more affordable used vehicle options.”

I agree that it is a good idea to have more fuel efficient vehicles puttering along our roadways, but the program makes me a little sad, too. I am one of ‘those people’ who develops a kind of relationship with my vehicle—I name my cars (currently driving Ms. Stella) and I believe they have a personality of their own and run better when freshly washed. It is a space of comfort and familiarity when I am out and about. (AND she doesn’t complain when I sing-loudly-when the windows are up.) All of this to say that it is a shame when a car must meet an untimely end in a car-crusher when it could provide years more fun and comfort to another owner. If a car is well-cared for, it can become a classic—one that makes you turn your head and remember days past. Granted, there will still be a large number of ‘classic clunkers’ that will remain, but if Congress allocates another $2 billion for the program, those car-crushers are certainly going to be rolling—please cue the funeral march…