Charleston Naval Base
We took advantage of a sunny 80 degree F day last week to visit a memorial to the thousands of military and civilians who worked over the years at the Naval Base in Charleston. Before I tell you about the memorial, a little history . . .
In 1899, a 1600-acre public park with beautiful gardens was created along the Cooper River on the grounds of an old plantation. Charlestonians could escape the big hot city for day trips by special trolley and enjoy a day on strolling lovely walking paths and picnicking in the landscaped gardens along the river. But soon, a short two years later in 1901, the United States Navy took possession of Chicora Park to build the Charleston Naval Base for defense of the East Coast of the United States.
The base also served to repair military ships and resupply them before they returned to sea. As it grew, shipbuilding was added, providing employment for 1,700 people. Over the years the Charleston Naval Shipyard turned out dredges, patrol cutters for the Coast Guard, paddle wheel steam boats for the Army Corps of Engineers, gunboats, submarine chasers, tugboats, barges, and even a ferry boat.
In April of 1917, when the US entered World War I, five German freighters were in transit through Charleston. The ships were seized and interned in nearby Charleston Harbor. Then they were brought to the Naval Base where they were refitted and sent to war as part of the US Naval Fleet.
During the WWI years, a Naval Training Center was added for basic training. One of the 5,000 recruits who trained there was Norman Rockwell, a young man destined to become one of the United States’ most loved artists. During his stay, Rockwell painted officer’s portraits and did cartoons for the base newsletter.
Also during this time, a naval clothing factory employing 1,000 Charleston women was put into production. When influenza became rampant, a naval hospital was added.
During World War II, thousands more soldiers, sailors, and airmen passed through the base on their way to war. Three shifts of military and civilian workers were employed to berth ships in port, build, repair, and resupply ships and troops for the Navy, keeping the war effort going around the clock. Vessels built during this war and in the years after were destroyers, landing crafts, and submarines.
Charleston Naval Base remained the largest employer of civilians in the state of South Carolina into the 1990s. In 1993, with the Cold War over, defense budgets were cut, the decision was made to close the base and it closed in 1996.
The Memorial
The memorial to the hundreds of thousands of military and civilians who worked at the Charleston Naval Base from 1901-1993 is an open pavilion shaped like the bow of a ship. One side borders the river while the other side is a low wall that curves like the side of a ship. A concrete ground map shows the Earth’s continents and a man made stream for children to play in meanders through. Five flags fly on flagpoles that slant out from the shore, pointing the way out of the safe harbor of home into the oceans and seas of the world.
The story of the base is told in a timeline of collages printed on metal, on a background of gray concrete, reflecting the look of the big ships built here.
A statue of the “Lone Sailor” with his duffel bag beside him stands looking out to sea, as if waiting to board his ship. The sculpture honors the men and women who served and still serve in the US Navy.
Nearby is “Homecoming”, depicting the joy of a family reunion, honoring the sacrifices made by families and members in all sea services during their long separations.
Both sculptures are bronze copies of
originals that stand at the United States Navy Memorial in Washington.
Many of the old buildings, including the shipyards, have found new life since the base closed. The docks and dry docks are now privately owned and still actively servicing the giant cargo ships that come in and out of Charleston.
And check out the view from our table!
Is this old water oak tree on a trail we frequent a signal or marker tree, made by Native Americans and used as a navigational aid in the forests? By bending a young sapling at a right angle to the ground, they altered a tree to serve as a signpost to others, indicating a trail direction or marking a point of interest, such as a natural spring or a safe river crossing.
As the tree matured, it grew back upward toward the light, pointing the way to the desired direction to whomever passed.
We aren’t sure if this tree is a signal tree or not. There are only a few hundred documented examples in the United States and no studies done in our state.
A survivor of hurricanes and loggers, fires and diseases, it is several hundred years old, plenty old enough to have done the job.
I call it the Elephant Tree because of its bark. What do you think? Do you see the elephant leg there?
It’s one of those trees I can’t resist. Don’t tell anyone, but when we pass by, I always stop and give it a hug!
Thanksgiving traditions that seemed set in stone when I was little are fond memories 70+ years later. When we were children we were dressed up in our Sunday best and taken to Grandma’s house for the day. There we sat down to a huge meal of turkey and all the trimmings served on the company china, with lots of polished silverware, and huge heavy serving dishes to pass. Dinner at 12 pm, on the dot!
After the meal, the “ladies” retired to the kitchen where they chatted, washed and dried all the “good dishes” and scrubbed the pots and pans while the grandpas and Dad dozed in comfortable chairs. Weather permitting, an afternoon walk was followed by games of cribbage.
At 6 pm (on the dot!), all the plates and silver and leftovers came out again for “supper”, followed by another session of more dishwashing in the kitchen. At last, bundled up in snow suits, we fell asleep in the cold car on the way home. Dad carried us in to bed and when we woke up it was Friday.
That tradition of going to Grandma’s house changed when, just out of college, the Writer and I were married in September and I cooked my first Thanksgiving feast in November for a houseful.
Around a makeshift table, guests sat in borrowed chairs and included the grandparents who had cooked all those Thanksgiving dinners of my childhood.
Much pressure for the new cook!
No one was more astonished than I was when I produced a huge turkey with dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberries, vegetables, and assorted pies that all tasted delicious!
Subsequent Thanksgivings were spent in many different ways and places as people moved, relationships changed, another generation was added, beloved grandparents died. A most memorable holiday was the one in 1987 when I returned from Mexico, jet lagged and exhausted, on the day before Thanksgiving with two newly adopted children!
Other unforgettable Thanksgivings have been spent serving holiday meals to Hmong, Somali and other new immigrants and homeless people in our town, followed by cleaning up after hundreds of diners. Never have I felt more fortunate and thankful for my own blessings than when serving these people.
Now our children have young families, large houses, new traditions, and we are the guests. This year we will have dinner in Charleston with the families of two children, including a newborn baby. Missing will be one son in Florida with a baby due any minute, one daughter in Germany, and another in Minnesota.
Wherever and however (or even IF) you celebrate Thanksgiving, Thursday can be a day to reflect on and appreciate our blessings and to vow to bless and be a blessing in the lives of others in return.
Happy Thanksgiving!
And we did. At Sandhills National Wildlife Refuge near McBee, SC, we had the whole 46,000-acre preserve to ourselves! Beautiful hilly roads meandered through longleaf pine woods with small lakes, a few deciduous trees, and occasional golden fields of wire grass breaking up the green of the pines. 
