November 4, 2014  |  This month our featured event is – you guessed it – Election Day! In honor of the importance of voting, we are featuring the sixth edition of our biennial South Carolina Election Guide. This guide is the single easiest and most helpful place to find information on voting in South Carolina. It lists candidates for South Carolina's local, state, and federal races, and it also provides links to their websites where available. Further, the guide shows you how to find your precinct and polling place, how to vote absentee, and how to vote from your car if needed. You can also see sample ballots, find district maps, and register online (the deadlines for both registering and absentee voting have passed).

Of course, November is bursting with events, most of them much more enjoyable than Election Day. Just click this link to see a full SC calendar of events for November!

It is said that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. So, in fact, does fear. South Carolina is steeped in history, and it is no wonder that many of our most beautiful places are veiled in the horrors of the past.


Of course, which spot strikes you as spookiest is a matter of experience. This year, in honor of Halloween, we asked three of our favorite photographers to share their favorite haunts from around the state. (The photo above was taken at Whitmire Cemetery in Newberry County.)


The Presbyterian Church on Edisto Island is undeniably one of the loveliest churches in South Carolina – and possibly one of the most haunted. The congregation is said to be among the oldest of its denomination in the country, dating to 1685. Though the church itself was built in 1831, people have been interred in the churchyard since 1797 – including Julia Legare, who died on the island in 1852 at the age of 22.


According to legend, Julia became ill with diphtheria, fell into a coma, and was later pronounced dead. The tragic death at such a young age gripped the Legare family, who buried her in the family mausoleum. Sadly, two years later another death struck the family, and when the Legares opened the mausoleum for the burial, they made a shocking discovery. Collapsed in the corner were a pile of bones adorned in the tattered material of Julia's burial gown. Julia Legare had been buried alive.

If you visit the tomb yourself, you will notice that no door blocks visitors from entering the family crypt. This is because for years, the enormous stone door that sealed the graves would be found open, with scratch marks on the door evident – from the inside. Each time the door was found open, elders from the church would close and secure the door, only to rediscover the same eerie scene later. Today the door rests on the ground next to the tomb, freeing Julia to finally leave her grave.

Photographer Brandon Coffey of Charleston tells us about his experiences photographing the Legare mausoleum: I have visited the tomb many times, and every time I do there is always a strange energy about the place. Whether you say you believe in ghosts or not, the energy felt is undeniable. If you can really step outside of yourself and imagine the fate of being sealed in a tomb and ultimately perishing there, you can only imagine how much desperation was felt. Perhaps that is the energy I feel when visiting. It's Julia letting people know of her pain so this tragic mistake won't happen again.

Note: To learn more about Julia Legare, be sure to check out this well-researched article.


This old stone house sits along an otherwise isolated country road in Winnsboro. The land surrounding the house once belonged to Samuel Gladney, who received his acreage through a royal land grant in 1768. A corner of the house is etched with the date 1784, likely the year the house was built.


The house served as a residence for many years until nearby Lebanon Presbyterian Church acquired the home for use as its parsonage in 1870. At the time, the church – formerly called Jackson Creek Presbyterian – was located near this site, and ruins from the original church can be seen on neighboring Airport Road. The church moved to its current location in 1893. Now vacant, the stone house has fallen into disrepair.

Photographer Bill Fitzpatrick of Taylors recollects his adventure capturing the shots above:

No one would ever find my body if I went missing. Such are my thoughts as I eyeball the outside of the Old Stone House. I want to go inside and poke around, but what hidden surprise might I find?

Bats like old stone houses, of that much I am sure, and I don't like bats. Maybe the Old Stone House is also infested with rats the size of cats or snakes the size of pythons.

Get a grip, Bill, I tell myself.

I set my camera for indoor photography. I walk inside. Oh no.

Someone is living here. I see a pile of clothes. I see an electrical cord.

I take a few photos.

I race out of the house.

I will never know if someone is living there, or not.


On the way to the old Rose Hill Plantation in Union County, one must cross a rusty steel girder bridge over the Tyger River. Locally known as Crybaby Bridge, it was built in the middle of last century and is the scene of a chilling tale. An adulterous woman, angered by her husband for refusing to grant her custody of their child, threw the infant into the river from this bridge. Realizing the horror of her impulsive action, the mother jumped in after her baby. Both drowned. Today travelers claim to hear cries from below that mimic those of a baby in distress. Others report that their cars, when parked in neutral, roll backwards – uphill.


Photographer Tom Taylor of Greenville goes on to say, The spookiest place I've ever photographed in South Carolina is not a single place, but a wide area. This area includes a large portion of the Sumter National Forest and parts of Laurens County, Newberry County, Union County and Fairfield County. Even though it's in the middle of the state, it is remote and bypassed by major thoroughfares. The Tyger, Enoree, and Broad Rivers flow through it.


This section is rich in history as well as mystery. I've had the privilege of exploring and photographing the historic churches, cemeteries, and houses of the area, and I have kayaked large portions of the Tyger River and most of the Enoree River down to its confluence with the Broad River. This part of the state always strikes me as other-worldly, as if something from another time might reveal itself if you lingered a bit too long, or dug just a bit too deep.

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