Charleston’s Karpeles Manuscript Museum
Dominating the corner of Coming and Spring is the Karpeles Manuscript Museum. You’ve almost certainly never been in it, or know anyone who was, but you probably have seen it. Before I ever went inside, I had thought about it maybe a few dozen times. It’s been on the list of things I’ve been meaning to do, but not as much as I’d like to drink a beer or start the pilot episode of Arrested Development yet again.
The building could be many things. Somewhere between church and governmental building, it stands as a relic of authority long since dead. It only makes sense that a building powerless against weeds and rust, has lost it’s aroma of machismo. It looks like an old man, once strong and commanding in the middle of it all, but now forgotten, forlorn, and quite sleepy. If a building could have dementia, this one would.
The Exhibits
Walking up the stairs you cannot help but hope to be wrong. You want there to be a secret power within and beneath it’s wrinkles. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be found. There was a nice gentleman with all the characteristics of the building and the fitting antique Charlestonian accent. On display were three exhibits of around 6-10 pieces. One of old music I couldn’t read. “Uhhh-ahhh, I once played the trumpet…” Another of pieces regarding the Intolerable Acts. “I’m a history major, I recognize these things!” The last was a few pieces from Ancient Egypt. They were in plastic boxes secured with tape. Tape. 3500 years old and they were secured by tape. I wouldn’t even mention that if I thought someone might actually read this post for fear that some freshman idiot might think it a novel idea to have a statue of Horus on their mantle between their bong and the father’s hopes and dreams. Lord knows I thought about it for a moment. Infiltration couldn’t be all that hard. The walls look like you could press upon them and the bricks would move out of your way like Jenga pieces.
Adorning the walls in a more permanent stance were relics of the Confederacy. Yee-ha. What really got me was that this was obviously a church. Pews, an organ on the balcony, a stage for the sermon. Yet smack dab where some presentation of Jesus had to have been, a poster regarding some “Confederate Priest” was propped up on an old wooden chair. The type of chair with a cushion for a seat and without much support, built in a time before fatness. The poster seemed to have been made be a child. The pictures were cut at the corners, because you know how those corners can furl up. The white space dominated the poster, because you know how facts are hard to find. Honestly though, it didn’t really seem that out of place.
On Interest
Check out the place if you will. It’ll only take a minute and there’s plenty of places to eat nearby. Add it to the list of things to do with a girlfriend when you need to seem like you’re the type of guy who does more than just sit around and watch Lisa Ann tapes but don’t actually know anything interesting to do. OR, actually be interesting, because this museum is not.
The Spring Street Observer 