Colonial Corners of the South

The two young women in their gingham gowns and cotton maids’ caps greeted us in the kitchen with a smile and prepared to lay wood in the walk-in fireplace, just managing to avoid the hooks and hangers that pierced the space. This was the way folks cooked in the 18th century, they explained, and why the red brick kitchen was in a building of its own, separate from the rest of the governor’s palace.

It was just the sort of living history scene you would expect in Colonial Williamsburg, in eastern Virginia. But this wasn’t Williamsburg; it was colonial New Bern in coastal North Carolina. We were visiting Tryon Palace, home of the king’s governor, William Tryon, in the early 1770s (and reconstructed in the 1950s). The Georgian manse, the English garden, the rich interior appointments were a reminder that the Southeast coast, an area Westerners tend to associate with the Civil War, was a lively corner of America in pre-Revolution days.

Between the icons of Williamsburg to the north and Charleston, S.C., and Savannah, Ga., to the south are dozens of small towns oozing charm and almost three centuries of history. They make a delightful driving trip, providing many variations on the colonial theme and some serendipitous surprises, as my wife, Judy, and I discovered on a weeklong ramble last November. (This was before the National Assn. for the Advancement of Colored People began an economic boycott of South Carolina to protest the flying of a Confederate flag over the capitol. A compromise was endorsed by the state Senate in mid-April, but the issue remains unresolved.)

Tryon enjoyed his palace for only a year before being transferred to New York. In 1798 a fire consumed all of Tryon Palace but the stables. When local citizens decided in 1959 that they should re-create their treasure, they found that Tryon had taken the plans and drawings to New York, where they reposed in the New-York Historical Society. All the interior furnishings--the furniture, china, crystal, books and art from England, even the mantels and the ornate carvings over the doors--were replaced by close matches found in England; the governor himself probably wouldn’t notice the difference.

New Bern citizens have lavished the same love and pride on restoring other historic buildings around the palace. Among them is the Harvey Mansion (1797), now a B&B; and restaurant. We felt fortunate to get reservations for Thanksgiving dinner, served in a formal dining room. It was so good that we ordered a dinner to go, to have a picnic of leftovers on the road the next day.

(Caution: The Carolinas are tobacco country. Smoking seems to be allowed just about everywhere, and some restaurants don’t even have a nonsmoking section.)

We had come to New Bern after a drive down the Outer Banks islands. We’d been advised to take that route partly for the breathtaking ocean scenery, partly to avoid areas that had been swamped by Hurricane Floyd two months before.

Our first stop on the mainland was Beaufort, N.C. (pronounced bow-fert, not to be confused with Beaufort--bew-fert--S.C.).

Beaufort is about as old as New Bern, but where New Bern’s historical treasures abut a down-at-the-heels section of a sizable town (pop. 17,000), Beaufort (pop. 3,800) is pristine, with a more authentic old-time atmosphere.

Most of the houses in the historic area are marked with name and date, so a self-guided walking or driving tour is an easy way to absorb it all in an hour or so.

A few locals, seeing the map in my hand, asked if we needed directions and spoke of the charms of the Old Burying Ground. It was impressive; the oldest legible headstone was dated 1756.

A couple running an antiques shop just a few doors off the waterfront told us they were from California and had spent two years searching for a place to live that was warm, safe, small, historic and on the water. Beaufort had it all.

Nobody in Beaufort locks doors, they said. One day, at their home around the corner, the wife was relaxing at the piano when a tourist burst in the front door and called back to his family, “Hey, this one’s got music,” and in they trooped.

U.S. 17 is the main coastal highway, curving inland around estuaries and marshlands. We crossed countless bridges and causeways; only after a closer look at the map did we realize that the two Beauforts and several other places we stopped at were on islands.

South Carolina’s Beaufort is historic and has a pretty harbor. It also has a modern claim to tourism fame: The popular novel and movie “Prince of Tides” were set here, and it was a backdrop for “Forrest Gump,” “The Big Chill” and “The Great Santini.”

This Beaufort is not a museum, although the visitor center will happily provide maps to interesting old homes and commercial buildings. We needed only to stroll along some streets lined with old oak trees dripping Spanish moss to sense that we were in the Old South, preserved just as we had imagined it.

Much of Beaufort’s antebellum wealth came from a rare type of cotton grown on the nearby Sea Islands. A few miles from town are two islands of more contemporary note: Parris Island, the Marine Corps induction base, and Hilton Head, a deluxe resort.

Relics of Beaufort’s history, military and domestic, are on view in the Beaufort Museum in the Arsenal, a Gothic structure built in 1798 that looks as if it’s still expecting an invasion.

Most of the region’s military history happened in and around Charleston, about 90 miles up the coast from Beaufort.

Charleston was a cosmopolitan commercial center long before the Civil War started there with rebel shots fired at Ft. Sumter, and it is still historic, attractive and possessed with attitude. We had just checked into our hotel on the edge of the historic district when the concierge put Charleston in perspective.

“In Atlanta,” he said, “the first question people ask is, ‘What’s your business?’ In Macon, it’s, ‘What’s your church?’ In Charleston the question is, ‘What’s your grandmother’s maiden name?’ ”

The concierge steered us to a walking tour, which began on the waterfront promenade. From there we could see Ft. Sumter on an island at the entrance to the harbor.

Charleston’s attraction is its homes and gardens, some dating to the 1700s, others recently rehabilitated from old commercial uses. One feature common to many of them: a veranda on every floor, and siting designed to catch the prevailing ocean breeze. We heard often that we were wise to visit in November; the summer heat and humidity--and mosquitoes--are oppressive.

Although some of the houses were mansions fairly reeking of old money, connections and family lineage, we saw a surprising number that were being rescued from near derelict state.

The impulse to build and rebuild has been abetted by war and natural disasters, most notably a major earthquake in 1886 and Hurricane Hugo in 1989. Preservation became a civic passion in 1931, when the city’s first zoning code was passed to protect Charleston’s architectural heritage.

Restoring old houses is still a chic thing to do--and the bedrock of what attracts tourist dollars.

Apart from our interest in the beauty of the city, we had another reason to visit Charleston. Judy, a devotee of fine tea, had learned that America’s only tea plantation is in the vicinity. Seeing it became a challenge.

Many people we asked locally knew nothing about Carolina tea. One person said we would find it in the local supermarkets, but it wasn’t there. Another gave vague directions about finding a country road and driving and driving.

She got the last part right. The entrance to Charleston Tea Plantation is marked by a small sign on State Highway 700, 35 seemingly endless miles south of the city, on Wadmalaw Island.

A woman greeted us in the covered outdoor reception area and offered us free samples of several fresh, hot brews to sip while we watched a short video. She ducked back into the building to continue her work, leaving us free to walk through the rows of tea shrubs, as clipped and manicured as a 17th century formal garden.

Our other great discovery at Charleston was the Magnolia Plantation and its gardens, first planted in 1680. What sets Magnolia apart from the many other fine gardens in the South is the large area set aside as a wildlife refuge. Bicycles are available, and there’s a motorized boat trip, but we chose to walk the perimeter. Our reward was great views of shorebirds, wild turkeys, turtles and alligators.

The southernmost of the 13 original British colonies, and the last to be founded, is Georgia, whose crown jewel is Savannah.

The city plan was laid out in 1733 in a farsighted grid design, with public squares and parks every few blocks. Despite the ebbs and flows of wars and economic cycles, 22 of the 24 squares remain, oases of trees, shrubs and flowers lined by old homes.

We took a trolley tour to get an overview before setting out on foot. One site on the tour is the Mercer House, the setting for the novel “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.” It’s private, and the owner even has managed to keep it off many sightseeing maps.

The truly touristy part of Savannah is the riverfront, where restaurants and gift shops appeal to every taste, from quite nice to downright tacky. After passing up peanut brittle, saltwater taffy, English toffee and other sweets, we succumbed to buying a jar of boiled peanuts. We were told they are an acquired taste; we took that as a dare. Surprise: We liked them.

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GUIDEBOOK

Going Early American in the Southeast

Getting there: For travelers from Los Angeles, it’s best to fly into Raleigh, N.C., and rent a car. American and US Airways have direct (one stop) service from LAX. Round-trip fares begin at $198. From New Bern to Savannah on U.S. 17 is about 350 moseying miles. Inland, Interstate 95 is a direct six hours from Savannah to Raleigh.

Where to stay: I had to keep computer-connected, so we booked chain hotels. I wish we had known about the Harvey Mansion Inn in New Bern, which has computer lines in its three Victorian guest rooms. Rate: $85 per night, telephone (252) 638-3205. Doubles at the Sheraton Grand in New Bern start at $135; tel. (800) 326-3745.

In Charleston, the Holiday Inn-Historic District was newly renovated, and I’d put it in the premium class. Doubles, $119 to $180; tel. (843) 805-7900, Internet https://www.princebush.com.

The epitome of atmosphere, locals say, is Two Meeting Street Inn, an 1890 Queen Anne mansion and Charleston’s oldest B&B.; Rates start at $155 weekdays; tel. (843) 723-7322.

In Savannah, the best deal on the historic riverfront was at the Days Inn on Bay Street. Rate: $130; tel. (912) 236-4440, Internet https://www.daysinn.com.

For more information: Craven County Convention and Visitors Bureau, New Bern, N.C.; tel. (800) 437-5767, Internet https://www.visitnewbern.com. The Tryon Palace has a Web site at https://www.tryonpalace.org.

Beaufort (N.C.) Historical Assn.; tel. (800) 575-7483, Internet https://www.historicbeaufort.com.

Beaufort (S.C.) Chamber of Commerce; tel. (843) 524-3163, Internet https://www.beaufortsc.org.

Charleston Tea Plantation, call (7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Pacific time) for hours: (843) 559-1059.

Charleston Area Convention and Visitors Bureau; tel. (800) 868-8118, Internet https://www.charlestoncvb.com.

Savannah Area Convention and Visitors Bureau, tel. (877) SAVANNAH, Internet https://www.savcvb.com.