An EAP

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It may be superstitious, but one of the best ways to assure something else going wrong is to say, “I need something to go right just now.”  This year, since June, has been that way.  In the midst of dealing with everything, small moments of joy slip away—moments we want to hold onto during trying times.  One of the touristy things we did in Charleston—or Sullivan’s Island, more precisely—was to visit Poe’s Tavern.  We knew we had to grab a bite to eat there since Charleston is one of the many places to lay claim to America’s iconic writer.  Poe was stationed at Fort Moultrie, perhaps a mile from the modern tavern, in his short-lived military days.  His story “The Gold Bug” is set on the island, and it’s rumored “Annabel Lee” was about a girl he met in Charleston.  We’d wandered around the fort and were shortly to meet family for the gathering that drew us here.  But first we went to see Poe.

Poe himself never ate here—the establishment only dates back to 2003 (opened April 24)—but it participates in the mythology of Edgar Allan Poe.  We have followed Poe—who lived and died as a writer—along the east coast.  My family has visited his birthplace in Boston, his home in Philadelphia, his college dorm room in Charlottesville, his grave in Baltimore, and his Sullivan’s Island home at Fort Moultrie.  There are many more places to visit, and although much of this is mythology, that makes it no less real.

Poe is a controversial figure.  Both the anonymous peer reviewer and a named reviewer objected to my use of Poe in Nightmares with the Bible.  What they perhaps misunderstand is that books are deeply personal effects.  Something few understood about even my academic books is that they were intended as somewhat artistic pieces.  Holy Horror and Nightmares with the Bible are bookends, carefully crafted to go together (and both priced beyond the reach of regular readers, and not marketed at all).  Poe may well be the most recognizable American writer, largely because of an image that has taken hold.  The Poe Tavern has Poe-themed artwork throughout and it participates in that image.  It was crowded already around 4 p.m. when we stopped in for a nosh on a Sunday afternoon in October.  Such drawing power speaks to the mystique of Poe all these many years after his short life and strange death.  And of the fascination he holds for those of us who wish to write, driven by the same bug.

Poe’s Charleston

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The first thing that came to mind, apart from family, when I learned we were coming to Charleston, is Edgar Allan Poe.  I learned about Poe from my brother at a young age and he may be the earliest author I recognized.  Over the years I’ve visited his birthplace memorial in Boston, his college dorm room in Charlottesville, his house in Philadelphia, and his grave in Baltimore.  I did visit Richmond a quarter century ago, but I had a migraine that day and couldn’t think straight.  When I heard “Charleston,” I immediately recalled that Poe had been here.  He was stationed at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island, not far from where we’re staying.  As in many cities that Poe called home, he’s become a favorite son of Charleston.  I knew we wouldn’t be able to see all the haunts—I don’t think the larger family shares my fascination—but we got a start before the reunion began.

The first stop was the most tenuous.  Rumor has long had it that Annabel Lee, of Poe’s last complete poem, is buried in the cemetery of the Unitarian Church.  The cemetery is renowned for its flora, which are kept largely untrimmed to match original wishes.  It proved an atmospheric place even on a sunny day.  Then it was a trip to Fort Moultrie itself, where Poe would’ve wandered as a young man.  The thick walls and largely subterranean emplacement would’ve been impressive in the days before modern warfare.  In fact, with the large military presence here, war seems an accepted fact of life.  We didn’t have time to find the Edgar Allan Poe Library, but we were honored to eat in his presence at Poe’s Tavern.  This spot makes it into travel books not because Poe ate here, but because its decor is all Poe-themed.

This journey has been a voyage of discovery.  Our first night in Charleston I had probing dreams about my father.  They actually began a couple days before our flight.  Like Poe, my father had a problem with alcohol.  Like Poe, I never really knew him personally.  Although Joseph Campbell’s overblown, I believe he’s right that the hero’s journey is the search for the father.  Critics sometimes complain that they don’t understand my integration of Poe in my nonfiction books on horror films.  My only defense is that something deeply personal is going on.  This odyssey began over half a century ago, in my childhood, and coming here, I knew that I had to meet the man and claim my heritage.