America’s Interstate Highway System is a national treasure.
We have President Eisenhower to thank for this, since his administration enacted the Federal Highway Act of 1956— but the massive infrastructure program actually came about for military reasons. Decades before, after World War I, America’s geographic isolation was actually seen as a vulnerability. Back then, the local roads were vastly inconsistent in terms of quality, so it could take up to two months to drive across the country. The military’s thinking was that they should have a quicker way to move vehicles and material from one ocean to another, just in case of another global conflict, or a surprise attack on our own shores. The grand vision might have taken decades of planning and deliberation to come to fruition, but today, our national highway system is an awesome way for people to get where they’re going.
The only problem is, whenever you’re cruising along at high speeds, it’s so much harder to appreciate where you actually are.
Some years ago, back before I joined the traveling circus and became saddled with all the responsibilities that come with life under the big top, I’d developed a practice of cruising the back roads of my adopted home state. With limited professional responsibilities, I filled my time by setting out on a quest to survey all of South Carolina’s back roads and byways. And I remember this one time, while visiting a friend down in the sleepy coastal town of Beaufort, he suggested I take a shortcut home by driving through the middle of nowhere, and past a mysterious old ruin.
The tiny community of Sheldon is home to maybe 500 people, although most of those nice folks will probably just say they’re from Beaufort, to avoid any confusion. There’s really not much to the place, apart from a couple of private hunting clubs, a few million ancient oak trees, and the isolated ruins of Prince William’s Parish. The church was built between 1745 and 1753, but it didn’t last long— in 1779, during the Revolutionary War, British troops burnt it to the ground. In 1826 these undaunted townspeople rebuilt the structure, and this time it stood until 1865— when it was demolished once again, either by the occupying Union Army, or by newly freed slaves in search of building materials, depending on who you ask. Whatever actually happened, these towering brick ruins have stood silent ever since, standing watch over a patch of woods and a handful of lonely gravestones.
The first time I stopped in to the Old Sheldon Church, it simply struck me as a quiet, peaceful place. Just one more of the Palmetto State’s hidden gems, a spot beyond the reaches of modern civilization where you could disappear to be alone with your own thoughts for a few minutes. Back then, as I weaved my way through the blackened brick pillars and the towering, colonnaded walls, I had absolutely no idea that many architects consider it to be America’s first imitation of the ancient Greek style. And as I admired the way that empty ceiling opened onto a cloudy sky overhead, I was oblivious to the fact that just a few feet away, several of the state’s founding fathers lay at rest.
From that point on, every time I passed through Beaufort County, I made a point of stopping in to the Old Sheldon Church. And even though that first visit was overshadowed by ignorance, my appreciation for this special place has grown as I’ve come to learn more about it. But what’s really amazing to me is that in all my visits, I’ve never once encountered another soul at the site— although, judging by the looks of those empty beer bottles tucked away in the tall grass, it’s apparent that a number of local teenagers value the Church’s privacy, too! But even though the Old Sheldon Church will probably always lie in ruins, it was cool to learn that the local parish started an annual tradition of holding their sunrise services out there once a year, on Easter Sunday.
So if you ever do find yourself down in Beaufort, be sure to take a short detour out of your way to stop in. No matter when you end up going, I promise— it’ll be the perfect time for a visit.