The Goodale Inn

On the east end of Sand Bar Ferry, right by I-520, sits the Goodale Inn, formerly the head house of the Goodale Plantation, and built in the Federal style. Also known as the Hampton House or the Fitzsimmons House or some combination of the above, it was built in 1799. That makes it one of the oldest buildings in Augusta and it's on the National Register of Historic Places. Naturally, it's vacant and has been for some time, possibly because its nearest neighbor is the Columbia Nitrogen plant. See "Swampland" for a glimpse of the adjacent industrial landscape. On the other hand, it is offically for sale and occasionally there seems to be some work going on inside. At least, there's often a light left on. Yeah, I know. Ghosts.

Given its long history, the Goodale should be haunted. Dr. Paul Fitzsimmons Eve, an early Dean of the Medical College of GA, occupied the house while he lived in Augusta, from the early 1830's to 1850. Eve was a participant in the Paris Revolution of 1830, served as a soldier and surgeon in the Polish Rebellion, and was a doctor for the Confederacy. He was also known for his hard stance against mesmerism. (The 18th century method of faith healing involving hypnotism and magnets pioneered by Dr. Mesmer, friend of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.) The Polish government eventually erected a statue in Augusta in his honor and put him on a stamp (for his role in the Rebellion, not the mesmerism thing...).



As far as I can tell, the "Hampton" of Hampton House refers to Wade Hampton III, a Lieutenant General in the Confederate Army and later Governor of South Carolina. Hampton was 42 when the Civil War began and took over the Confederate Calvary Corps at the behest of Robert E. Lee when JEB Stuart was killed in 1864. Hampton carried a four-foot long double-edged sword and on one occasion is said to have split a Union solider's skull to the chin with a single blow. After the war he told Ulysses S. Grant, "If we had known that you were going to back with bayonets the carpetbagger, the scalawag, and the negro in their infamous acts, we would never have given up our arms!" He was called the "Saviour of South Carolina" for railing against the policies of Reconstruction. Later, upon his death bed, in 1902, his last words were reportedly, "God bless all my people, black and white." Such is the conflicted history of the South.

I don't know much about another resident of the house, Jonathan Miller, other than that he was Surgeon General of the Army of Tennessee. In the 1970's the house became a dinner club, sometimes featuring musical acts, run by a Mr. and Mrs. Harris. Word is that they made a mean beef stew and served A-1 prime rib. After that, it appears that some private owners occupied the place. I don't know when they left, but judging from the various debris lying around it was inhabited into the 1990's.

As I mentioned, the Inn is for sale (a steal at $129,500) and I wouldn't recommend that folks go into it for a variety of reasons. Yup, do as I say not as I do. But, if you want the best reason not to go in, it's this: It's boring. You'd think that a plantation house built in 1799 with 5 fireplaces and 10 rooms would be cool. Well, it's not. It's a bunch of square rooms, each featuring various amounts of dusty and dilapidated furniture. Trust me, I checked all three floors. Even the attic (a 200+ year-old attic!) was uninteresting.



In back of the house are a bunch of abandoned boats. There's at least three, if I recall. The river is just over the levee, at the back of the yard, but then you'd have to go through the condos on the other side to get to the water. The builder of the condos must have been pretty confident about modern river control, I guess.



Next to the house are some old shacks. Right as I began to explore them my companion began having a severe allergic reaction on account of the Goodale's unmowed yard and waist-high grass. I wasn't about to miss a good shot just 'cause he couldn't breathe, so I looked around for a bit.