Ghosting

It's Halloween weekend and Lowcountry ghosts are stirring, from downtown Charleston to right here on Johns Island, where two sites have a long tradition of spectral sightings.

The Angel Oak seems especially attractive to spirited presences. As recently as 2008, a young married couple made a moonlight visit to the Oak, under which they'd been married some months earlier, and reported seeing glowing lights amid the ancient tree's branches. The spirits became threatening, turning into flaming, mask-like faces, when the husband tried to carve his initials on the tree with a penknife. It wasn't until the couple hastily retreated that the faces disappeared and the star-like lights that they'd seen earlier returned.

Fenwick Hall, before restoration

Another, more unfortunate, couple are said to haunt the grounds of Fenwick Hall, the Georgian-style plantation home along today's Maybank Highway, built in 1730 by John Fenwick and inherited and enlarged by his son Edward. Famous for his racehorses and his Johns Island Stud, Edward became enraged when his beautiful young daughter Ann eloped with a Fenwick groom, hardly the socially acceptable union Edward wanted for Ann. The couple was found hiding in a log cabin in the marshes surrounding the estate. It's said that Edward ordered the groom mounted backward on a horse with a noose around his neck, and then cruelly forced Ann to strike the horse on the haunches, thus hanging her lover. Both Ann and the groom are said to walk the grounds of the former plantation; more alarmingly, the groom is said to be headless.

Lavinia Fisher, Charleston's first serial killer

Downtown Charleston is, of course, infested with ghosts. The restless spirits of John and Lavinia Fischer, the city's first serial killers, were hanged at downtown's Old Jail, where they are said to appear on certain nights. The couple owned a tavern and inn in what is now North Charleston, where they reportedly offered particularly wealthy guests poison-laced tea before robbing them and disposing of their bodies in the basement.

Actor Junius Booth, still appearing in Charleston

The Dock Street Theater has its own pair of ghosts - a young prostitute who threw herself off the second floor balcony of the building during its time as a hotel in the early 19th-century, sometimes joined by the ghost of famed actor Junius Booth, who frequently trod the boards at the theater during national tours of his Shakespeare recitals. Even though Junius died on a riverboat in Louisville, Kentucky, it's said his fondness for the old theater and admiring Charlestonian audiences draws his spirit back to the Holy City.

Underground Quilts

During the years leading up to the Civil War, the Underground Railroad provided a path to freedom for hundreds of enslaved plantation workers in the Confederacy. But how did a fugitive slave saddled with the forced illiteracy imposed by many plantation owners learn of the stations along the route north, when to move or when to stay hidden, who was to be trusted and who to avoid?

One still controversial theory is that the quilts made by southern Blacks during slave times not only preserved the stories and symbols of their west African or Caribbean homelands but carried coded signals woven into their patterns. Draped over a front porch railing or hung on a wash line, such quilts would help escaped slaves find their way to the next station on the route or would indicate the quilt's owner was one of the Railroad's "station masters", providing food and shelter. The theory was first proposed in a 1999 book, "Hidden In Plain View", by art historian Raymond Dobard Jr. and Jacqueline Tobin, a college professor.

The Bear's Paw; "Stay on animal paths"

Examples of the quilted designs they identified were the Bear's Paw, warning escapees to only travel along animal pathways through forests and swamps and avoid human-made trails; the Log Cabin, a sign that a particular household would provide shelter and could be trusted; and the North Star, pointing the traveler toward that nighttime beacon and northward. A zig-zag Drunken Path, on the other hand, warned that slave hunters were nearby and avoidance maneuvers should be undertaken, while the Bow Tie suggested that the fugitive's ragged appearance was a dangerous giveaway and better, more disguising clothes were advisable.

The Log Cabin: "Food and shelter here"

Dobard's and Tobin's theory was based on the recollections of an elderly Black woman who claimed the oral tradition of coded quilts had been handed down in her family for generations; but the theory.has been much disputed, and even Dobard later admitted that his and Tobin's book was "informed conjecture, as opposed to a well-documented book with a wealth of evidence." Critics point out that elderly ex-slaves interviewed during the 1930's as part of a Works Progress Administration project never mentioned such a code, nor do they appear in the memoirs of such noted Underground Railroad figures as Harriet Tubman or Frederick Douglass. One critic went so far as to dismiss the theory as "fake history."

The North Star: "safe to keep heading north"

But the theory has supporters who believe just as strongly that the quilt codes are real historical artifacts, and wonder why critics seek written evidence from slaves who were prevented from learning to read or write and, even if they were literate, would never have committed the codes to paper. As a corollary to such coded messages, they point out that the hymn "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", generally considered to be about a hereafter free of slavery, was understood by enslaved Blacks to be about escaping along the Underground Railroad, guided by secret symbols pointing the way to freedom.

Pumpkintown

The Lowcountry may not have the sudden snap in the air that heralds the arrival of autumn, but a sure sign of the changing season is the proliferation of pumpkin patches. These iconic squashes were being cultivated centuries ago by Native Americans as an important diet staple, particularly by Cherokee in the Upstate, who shared them with European settlers in and around today's Pickens County. They grew so prolifically there along the Oolenoy River that (so the story goes) an early 19th-century settler named the

new town in the pumpkin's honor, making the autumn Pumpkintown's time in the botanical spotlight.

Sidi In The Pumpkin Patch (courtesy Charleston Magazine)

Pumpkins fell out of favor for a time in the Lowcountry, though, as soil depleted by cotton plantations made them harder to grow. By the early twentieth century, when truck farming became more common, the pumpkin began a slow return to Lowcountry fields; and by the latter half of the century, our own Sidi Limehouse staged somewhat of a pumpkin renaissance. "I saw the need to have a decent edible pumpkin," he once told the Johns Island Conservancy. "You can go to most places and they have pumpkin pie and it's out of a damn can, and it ain't pumpkin, it's just squash with with sugar in it." Limehouse worked with Clemson's agricultural station to develop a pumpkin suited to the Lowcountry's sandy, slightly salty soil, literally laying the ground for the proliferation of pumpkin patches that are now a common feature of our coastal autumn.

Pumpkins may all look pretty similar, but there are a number of varieties promoted by pumpkin aficionados. There are Mammoth Golds, Ghost Riders, Howdens and Small Sugars; but all have woody stems, stringy flesh, and seeds that can be cleaned, dried and roasted. Pumpkins are a great source of Vitamin A, and the seeds are a good source of protein and fat.

At the pumpkin patch, look for pumpkins that are uniformly firm and free of cracks or splits. If a gently pressed fingernail easily penetrates the skin, it's a sign the pumpkin was harvested too early. And if you're picking your own, look for ones with bright green stems, and when cutting from the plant, leave at least an inch of the stem. Most of all, enjoy this heritage vegetable, at the center of generations of Lowcountry harvest feasts.