Just a couple decades ago, shopping was… different.
Amazon was a new website, and it only sold books. Whenever people wanted to buy basically anything else, they would have to leave their homes and actually venture out into the world.
Back in those days— long before before the brick-and-mortar retail industry went on life support— customers would drive to shopping centers, walk into stores, and speak to other human beings in person in order to make a purchase.
Crazy, right? Hey, it was a different time.
Back in the early 2000s, in Charleston, South Carolina, the Old City Market was one of the best places to go if you wanted to waste both your time and your money, wandering around and shopping for all those things you never knew you needed. The Market was a tourist trap, plain and simple, and it never claimed to be anything else.
Naturally, I was drawn in.
And once there, behind the endless rows of “designer” barbecue sauces and watercolor paintings of Rainbow Row, I came across this tiny little bookstore. The shop was small— barely big enough to turn around inside— but an offbeat warning sign on the door made it clear that this place was… different.
The lettering on the plate glass windows read “CSA Galleries”— but of course, as a recent carpetbagger, I didn’t make the connection that “CSA” stood for “Confederate States of America”.
Inside, stacks of books were piled in every direction, so I took my time making a study of them. Innocuous titles like Charleston Receipts were shelved alongside blatantly revisionist literature, titles that glorified the “Lost Cause” of the South’s “War Against Northern Aggression”.
The walls— where you could see back to them— were covered with art prints featuring Confederate generals on horseback. Squeezed in between all of those were countless reproductions of the Charleston Mercury’s most famous headline:
See, back in the 1990s and early 2000s, the Confederate flag was a hot-button issue in South Carolina, having flown continuously over the State House dome since 1961. Those determined to “keep it flying” relied on sympathetic politicians like State Senator Glenn McConnell to make that happen.
As a longtime member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans fraternal organization, McConnell knew his constituency well. He opened CSA Galleries as a way to share his enthusiasm for his state’s history, and the entrepreneurial venture found instant success. From the day the store opened in 1996, Civil War memorabilia flew off the shelves, though an equal number of residents had strong opinions about the business. Many found it distasteful, and some even referred to McConnell as the last war profiteer from a century-old conflict.
Despite the controversy, CSA Galleries continued to grow in popularity, supported by its passionate fanbase. And later, when the operation grew too large for the City Market, McConnell relocated to a larger storefront in the nearby suburb of North Charleston. His business flourished there for another decade, attracting armchair historians from around the country, even as the “Lost Cause” grew less and less popular with the younger generation.
But as always, times change. In 2014, Senator McConnell retired from politics after he was nominated for a position as President of the College of Charleston. The career transition seemed like the ideal time for him to shift away from the world of retail, and CSA Galleries closed its doors for good.
Publicly, Senator McConnell said that his decision to close CSA Galleries was tied to changing trends in retail, such as the rise in online shopping, and the increasing prices of gas and electricity. But in some circles, people said that as McConnell neared retirement, he was becoming much more aware of his legacy, and shuttering the store as a way to polish up his personal image.
When it comes to the Civil War, even 150 years later, it seems like every South Carolinian still has their own unique perspective. But no matter your opinion of Senator Glenn McConnell, his politics or his business, there’s no denying that the CSA Galleries store was a true South Carolina icon… for better or worse.