Back in August, I wrote about visiting my daughter in Dallas, where block after block of early 20th-century bungalows are vanishing, replaced by sprawling mini-mansions with not a whisper of the neighborhood’s original charm. I asked then: Is this what we want in southcentral Pennsylvania?
This week, I find myself in Charleston, S.C. – and if there’s a city that’s chosen differently, it’s this one.
It’s been 25 years since I last visited. I’d forgotten how delightful Charleston is, not just in beauty, but in intention. The city ranks among the top in the nation for architectural tourism, historic charm and cultural preservation. And that’s not luck. That’s leadership.
On a walking food and history tour through Charleston’s French Quarter, I learned about the legacy of Susan Pringle Frost.
Frost (1873-1960) is widely recognized as Charleston’s first female real estate agent – but she was far more than that. In the early 1900s, before women could even vote, she opened her own real estate office. By 1920, she founded the Society for the Preservation of Old Dwellings, now the Preservation Society of Charleston, the first grassroots preservation organization in the country.
Using her own money, Frost purchased crumbling homes in the city’s lower peninsula, especially in what is now Rainbow Row, restoring them with care and conviction. She fought tirelessly for zoning laws to protect Charleston’s historic fabric, at a time when modernization was the only word on everyone’s lips.
I can only imagine the meetings she attended, and the pushback from developers and neighbors who thought a shiny 1940s-style department store would bring more value than brick, stucco and shutters. But she had a longer view. And 100 years later, Charleston is reaping the rewards.
Now, I’m not saying Harrisburg is Charleston. But we do have our treasures: the Pennsylvania State Capitol, called by Theodore Roosevelt “the handsomest building I ever saw,” and the Broad Street Market, one of the oldest continuously operating farmers markets in the country.
We own those stories.
The question is: Do we preserve them? Do we honor them? Or do we build over them, one teardown at a time?
Every community faces this crossroads. And no, it’s not a zero-sum game. We can preserve and grow, but only if we plan with intention. The real estate decisions we make today ripple far beyond our lifetimes.
Travel has a way of showing us not just where we’ve been, but where we might go – if we choose wisely. Charleston made its choice a century ago. What will ours be?