They Walk the Line
Robert Burnell, a longtime Line Street resident, worries about the loss of community as the neighborhood changes.
STORY BY MARGARET KENWORTHY, ALEXANDRA HAGG, MARY LEONARD, RACHAEL BUCKINGHAM AND ELIZABETH LONG
PHOTOS BY JACK ALTERMAN
Robert Burnell was born in 1952 in a house on Archdale Street downtown. His mother died when he was 10 years old and his father soon thereafter. His parents and grandparents raised him and his five siblings in a three-bedroom home, housing nine people. As a child, Burnell liked to play on Broad and Market streets.
In the late 1960s the rent at Archdale rose, and his family was forced to trek to the East Side of Charleston. They moved into a modest house at 17 Line Street in a neighborhood that was home to African-American craftsmen who had been freed after the war, and later, to black factory workers. Burnell and his wife started a family in that two-story house, raising six children.
Their kids played in the grassy front yard with friends who ran freely in and out of the black iron gate. Sometimes Mr. Burnell would join in the fun, playing red rover and tag with the kids. The neighborhood wasn’t necessarily “tight-knit,” says Burnell, but people knew each other. “That’s where the connection and unity was,” he explains. “Everybody looked out for one another and everyone knew one another.”
Today, the front yard is still there and so is the black iron gate. Mr. Burnell and his wife are still there, as well. Much has changed, however. While some of the older houses are as modest and neat as they ever were, others lean at odd angles, decayed and derelict, with police signs warning trespassers away. Most surprising are the brand new homes, rising above the 18th and 19th century houses like tall trees, with third-story rooftop decks, granite countertop kitchens and marble baths.
It doesn’t take long to realize that Line Street and the rest of the East End are in transition, shifting from modest housing to expensive professional lofts. But it’s more than housing: The neighborhood is evolving from African-American families with years in the neighborhood to predominantly white college students and young professionals. Burnell doesn’t have a problem with renovations and new houses—in fact, he welcomes them—but he fears that the old community will be lost. He sees some of the new neighbors averting their eyes, others staring at their cellphone screens. “When people become invisible,” says Burnell, “there is no communication.” When there is no personal communication, the neighborhood loses something special, and so it dies.
Even preservationists recognize that “restoring” a neighborhood will probably kick it into a higher price bracket, which moves the new tenants in and the old tenants out. The East Side neighborhood is particularly vulnerable to this kind of price creep, since the neighborhood sits right between the economic resurgence of Upper King Street to the west and the coming revival of the Cigar Factory to the east. Those two projects are hot—and the old East Side neighborhood is like a chunk of ice in between. It won’t be long before it just melts away.
That’s the reason that Jack Alterman, the prominent Charleston photographer, and artist Lain Healey, a resident of Line Street, are trying to document this street and the rest of the East Side. Alterman and Healey are out there most weekends with their cameras and lenses, charcoal sticks and drawing paper. They realize they’re pressed for time because many of the buildings and streets on the East Side are changing fast, and many of the older residents are moving away forever.
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Like many places in Charleston, Line Street has historical significance: It was here in 1814 that the citizens of Charleston built a defense line of earthwork and brick across the neck of the peninsula in anticipation of a possible invasion by the British. Line Street marks the line of that fortification.
Later, Line Street and the East Side became an industrious and respected working-class community. The free black community that resided on the the East Side included black carpenters, ironsmiths, tailors and wholesalers. It was, in fact, the largest community of free black craftsmen in America, many of whom owned their own homes and shops. Their skills and talents helped create some of city's most notable buildings, including the Old Bethel United Methodist Church and the Cigar Factory.
After the Civil War, the African-American population that dominated this region of the peninsula had limited employment opportunities due to racism and segregation. Many of them fell beneath the poverty level and moved out of the area. Because of the hardships and poverty, no improvements were made to the East Side neighborhood from that point on. It remained, from an architectural standpoint, locked in the 19th century.
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One bright spot in the economic history of the East Side was the Cigar Factory, located on East Bay. Formerly a textile mill, it began making cigars in 1912 and employed hundreds of East Side residents. When work finished for the day, the workers pushed westward toward Market Street, filling the streets, stores and restaurants with their voices and laughter, like the Charleston tides that nurtured and enriched the land. But when the Cigar Factory closed in 1973, the jobs went with it, and the neighborhood suffered.
By the 1970s, Charleston was in the midst of “white flight.” While white Charlestonians moved to the suburbs, the black majority stayed on the peninsula, many within the East Side neighborhood. Meanwhile, the 1970s brought a crime wave to the nation, and the East Side neighborhood was not immune. Violence and drug-related crimes paralyzed the streets, and Line Street itself was considered one of the most dangerous parts of the city.
Twenty years of high crime persisted, but eventually Charleston became fashionable again, as far north as Marion Square. But the East Side was still ignored and not rehabilitated to match the rest of the peninsula.
Despite the ravages of crime, poverty and neglect, the East Side neighbors still kept a community bond. Perhaps the harsh times demanded unity. “People would be outside making hotdogs; neighbors would hang out with each other on their front porches,” Burnell says. The vibe was lively, friendly, social. Life in general was connected, he recalls. Neighbors knew all the kids and kept a sharp eye on them.
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Today, the East Side is still heavily policed, and crime is more common than in other parts of the city, but nothing like it once was. Rather, a new phenomenon has swept through Line Street and much of the East Side: Walking past some of the houses, restaurants and stores, it’s obvious that these structures are in desperate need of repair. Decayed wood sags on the frames, paint is chipped and peeling, windows are bricked over. But what is surprising is that the battered homes now contrast sharply with newly renovated and brand new buildings. Call it urban renewal, or gentrification--or just good business--but many individuals and firms are now buying houses on the streets, either to improve them from the ground up or to knock them down and start anew.
SK Property/Station 12 Design is one of several firms renovating existing historic homes and building properties for “urban infill” projects within existing neighborhoods. One of the houses sits at 24 Line Street. With 2,600 square feet, four bedrooms and four baths, the company expects to rent the house for about $3,800 a month, most likely to young professionals or medical school students. Another of the firm’s projects is at 41 Line Street, a meticulous renovation of a classic Charleston single house.
“It's a buzzing place to be,” Kate Dellas, architecture and design project manager at SK Properties, says of Line Street and the East Side neighborhood. “The small-scale Charleston single houses and cottages are without a doubt charming, enticing places to live, work and play.” A large collection of "fixer uppers" is also bringing new energy to the neighborhood.
Dellas was formerly employed by the Preservation Society of Charleston and has a passion for historic neighborhoods. She adds that many young professionals are also buying property and doing much of the work themselves.
Another firm active in the area is Luxury Simplified. Founded by College of Charleston grad Luke Morrison, the firm has renovated dozens of homes north of Marion Square-—and has built many others. At 19.5 Line Street, for instance, the firm recently completed a renovation of an 18th century Freeman’s cottage. The building was lifted 18 inches higher, straightened out and given a rear extension. All new electrical, plumbing and HVAC services were installed as well as a new kitchen and bathroom. After the three-month renovation was complete, it was rented to a professional for $1,000 a month. At 19 Line Street, the firm recently built a three-story, three bedroom/three and a half bath home boasting a rooftop deck, which rents for $2,400/month.
“The neighborhood is bustling,” says Dellas. “Who wouldn’t want to be here?”
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Mary Edwards, professor at the Trident Technical College's Palmer Campus, a few blocks from Line Street, can't help but notice the changes. “Every time I look, there’s a new house being built,” she says. Edwards gives tours of the neighborhood and says that for young professionals, the rents in the East Side are attractive, particularly against the rising rents elsewhere on the peninsula. She sees the homes quickly filling with young professionals. “It is new and fresh and without the high prices of the Meeting and Market streets areas,” she says.
The revitalization of the East Side might be good for some people, but it worries some of the long-time residents. The black Charleston population has decreased from 34,000 to roughly 12,000 since the 1960s, According to the US Census Bureau. Old time residents are moving out because the rents are beyond their means. “The rent is astronomical compared to when it was when I first got here,” says Moses Brunson, a black Charleston resident who moved to Line Street about five years ago. “The dynamics on the East Side have changed from an historical area to a business area,” he says.
Burnell, who lives down the street from Brunson, agrees. “The ones that own their homes are leaving, and the ones that don’t own homes have no other choice,” Burnell says. He has no intention of leaving, though. He owns his home, and he’ll have his mortgage paid off in a few years.
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Interestingly, it’s the historic Cigar Factory that may make the biggest economic impact on the East Side neighborhood-—again. The old Cigar Factory served as a primary employment company for many residents. When it closed down in the 1970s, the sprawling brick building was abandoned. Afterwards, it was used for offices, but it never regained much significance. Even an attempt to turn it into condominiums failed in 2006, when the economy crashed.
But last year, a group of investors bought the building and began to renovate it as a shopping and restaurant complex. According to one of the Cigar Factory investors, Chad Waldorf, the building will soon house the offices Garden & Gun magazine, yoga studios, an upscale café and more. It’s expected to open in July of this year. “I hope this new transition makes the Cigar Factory a landmark of Charleston once again,” Waldorf says.
The new Cigar Factory will offer about 500 jobs, and Waldorf hopes it will also spawn additional restaurants and retail shops in the area, which will create even more opportunity. “I hope it is a positive catalyst for the entire East Side,” Waldorf says.
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One Sunday last March, residents strolling the sun-drenched streets of Line Street gathered at the edge of a vacant lot. There they watched as photographer Jack Alterman aimed his camera at three young girls, overflowing with giggles, who he had assembled in a portable studio. A few feet away stood artist Lain Healey, busily laying streaks of charcoal to an image depicting a disarray of dreadlocks sweeping across a young boy’s face. The drawings and photographs form a project titled The East Siders. When completed, the collection will document the streets and people of the East Side as they undergo the pressures of transition.
The idea for The East Siders was born from the pure desire to hold onto the memory of Line Street and the East Side. Healey, 27 years old and white, has lived on Line Street for four years and has come to know many of Line Street’s old-time residents. It was Healey who came up with the idea of documenting the neighborhood through art and photography, and he convinced Alterman to join him.
“I am not trying to make a political or social statement,” says Healey. “I love where I live, and I just wanted to save a little reminder of who lived there when I did, before it all turns into cafes, gourmet grocers and yoga lofts.”
Alterman has now photographed more than 50 East Side residents, ranging in age from 5 to 80. “Many of the East Siders are happy that change has come to their neighborhood, at least for now,” he says. “The crime and violence that once dominated life in the area is all but gone. But there is a mixed feeling of optimism and apprehension.”
Alterman hopes his photographs will remind the investors coming into the East Side that real people live here. Each photograph and drawing, he says, will “try to make the people with the money do the right thing.”
A glance at the photograph of a man with a welcoming smile or a girl with innocence in her eyes leaves an unforgettable impression. Each photo and print illustrates a life story that exemplifies the strength, innocence, joy and wisdom of the East Siders.
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For the last 30 years, prosperity has been creeping up the Charleston peninsula. The Lower peninsula, embodying historical Charleston, with architecture and homes dating back to the 1700s, came back in the 1960s. The middle section of the peninsula took on new life in the 1980s and '90s, with trendy boutiques, chic restaurants and luxury hotels. Upper King became hot just a few years ago.
Now investors are looking at the Upper Peninsula, which begins a few streets north of Line Street and continues north of the Ravenel Bridge to about 1630 Meeting Street. Warehouses and low-income housing dominate this area, but some high-tech businesses already call the UP home, and word is out that this part of town is the next “it” place to be.
The Charleston Upper Peninsula Initiative, an urban redevelopment company that is helping promote thoughtful growth of the area, has been a key player. The initiative knows that preservation is important to the city, but so is fresh growth. For that reason, it is promoting mixed-use urban environments, workforce-housing options, affordable housing, zoning ordinance to allow for taller buildings and more parking.
Another contributor to the development of the UP is the Urban Land Institute (ULI) of South Carolina. Heather Foley, executive director of the South Carolina ULI, believes that the city wants the UP to develop to have a “sense of place.” In the next 10 to 15 years, Foley speculates the UP will see drastic development. In fact, the American College of the Building Arts has a plan to move to the area, which will bring even more attention to the UP.
Not surprisingly, the pace of development has some UP residents worried. “It’s a real concern,” Foley says. “You will see Nassau and Line Street transform really quickly. Gentrification is a huge issue. The land in the area is prime real estate and moving very quickly. It’s hard to offer affordable housing at this time, but we have to roll with the market.”
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The future of Line Street and the East Side is pretty clear, then: Economic revival is coming from the West Side of the peninsula in the form of the Upper King economic boom, and from the east, with the completion of the Cigar Factory. Economic activity is already to the south, pushing up from Calhoun, and soon it will be pushing down from the Upper Peninsula. The East Side is essentially boxed in by prosperity.
Brittany Lavelle Trulla, owner of BVL Historical Preservation Research Company and adjunct faculty at the College of Charleston's department of preservation, says that she and other preservationists have mixed feelings about the new investments in the East Side. “I love seeing places revived and life being put into them,” Trulla says. “But people that live in these areas cannot afford to compete.”
Burnell is seeing this dilemma first hand. Some of his former Line Street neighbors have moved to North Charleston to find cheaper rents. But now, he says, even North Charleston is getting expensive, and he fears that some of these people will become “nomads”— people without homes.
One day, while listening to a local talk show about Charleston’s rapid growth, Burnell called the host and asked why the city isn’t helping its people stay in their homes. The host’s response was two words, Burnell recalls: “money talks.”
“And if you don’t have the money,” says Burnell, “you’re gone.”
Line Street started out as a place to take a stand. It remained a neighborhood where families, despite the many challenges, raised their children. Today, prosperity is bringing the greatest challenge ever to the entire East End. How the transition will play out is yet to be seen. Whatever the outcome, Jack Alterman and Lain Healy's photographs and paintings will capture the transition—and the hopes and fears, history and humanity bundled up within it—so that Line Street and the East Side never fade away.