Palmetto Compress Warehouse – The Potential Foundation for Many Unique Options

John Sherrer, Director of Cultural Resources
Historic Columbia Foundation
April 18, 2013

Columbia is at a crossroads of sorts in its quest to balance interests in preserving historically important structures through adaptive use with popular interests in moving quickly to raze decades-old properties for brand-new developments. Nowhere is this more immediately apparent than in the discussion over the merits of preserving one of the capital city’s largest historic structures – the Palmetto Compress Warehouse.

Located on the corner of Blossom and Pulaski streets, this sprawling structure has proved a large target for naysayers, who believe that its future would best play out in a landfill. Fortunately, many other voices have chimed in on the conversation offering potential scenarios for a future that spares the wrecking ball and results in uses that defy the cookie-cutter development that has plagued cities throughout the United States for over a generation.

Recently, the opinion of one well-traveled and visionary citizen caught my attention. Temple Ligon’s article, Palmetto Compress: A Good Fit, which ran on April 11th in the MidlandsLife section of MidlandsBiz, offered many astute observations about our city and its need for improved facilities for ground transportation, namely those for bus and rail. In his assessment of current facilities, Ligon found them to be uninspired, not user-friendly and out of touch with what leading cities offer their residents and visitors. Clearly there is work to be done, and he feels the Palmetto Compress Warehouse may be part of the solution. Perhaps he is right; however, as an historian and historic preservationist, I take issue with a few erroneous and subjective statements made along the way. A quick review of the property’s history and the building’s character will, I hope, offer even greater substance to Mr. Ligon’s interesting article.

Mr. Ligon claims that, no one says who designed [the structure], probably because no one knows. Actually, its designer is known, and listed in the site’s National Register of Historic Places documentation (among other places). The structure was the brainchild of James B. Urquhart, a noted local designer responsible for numerous contributions to the city’s commercial development.

Mr. Ligon continues, Design was not at the top of primary concerns, when [the structure] was built in 1923. Cost and function were. The Palmetto Compress Warehouse was completed in 1917 during the waning years of World War I and added onto in 1923. At the time of its completion, the property caused quite a stir among Columbia’s businessmen, as it bore the marks of modernity – a fire-retarding sprinkler system, compartmentalized cotton storage rooms separated by firewalls, and a concrete basement. Capable of holding 50,000 bales, this addition to the city’s skyline also was one of the largest facilities of its kind in the Southeast. An integral component of Columbia’s textile economy at the time, the Palmetto Compress Warehouse was celebrated as a savvy investment for ensuring the safe and convenient storage of South Carolina’s most important agricultural product.

While I believe that Mr. Ligon’s intent on using the word design was to mean ornamentation, to say that design was not a primary concern both undercuts the fact that Urquhart was gifted in engineering and that the function and the physical features (design) of the building were separate. Form and function influenced design. Moreover, the $60,000 price tag for the building’s initial section, completed in 1917, was far from unsubstantial. True, the building lacks ornamentation – much like most of the textile-related structures remaining in the city, notwithstanding the more decorative Olympia and Granby mills.

That Mr. Ligon feels the building is ugly and altogether too straightforward is purely subjective. The same attributes have been leveled by detractors of many architectural movements, from the ugly extremes of Victorian Queen Anne buildings to the austerity of mid-century modern structures. Beauty can be in the eye of the beholder (and the redeveloper). It seems to me that the quirkiness that he feels the building lacks is, in actuality, present – albeit in the structure’s form, size and lack of decorative elements.

Lastly, in his proposal to turn the Palmetto Compress Warehouse into a terminal for rail and/or bus service, Mr. Ligon suggests that the structure could be eviscerated – its floors and heavy timbers ripped out and sold (meanwhile requiring the installation of cross-bracing to hold up against the next Hugo). Removal of the entirety or the majority of the building’s guts is neither necessary nor advisable from many perspectives – cost, structural or preservation. That the building has withstood so much that Mother Nature (and mankind) has thrown at it for a century speaks to the integrity of its composition and its designer.

Preservationists envision a repurposed building that blends respect for the structure’s history with creative re-use. This can come in many forms, with the right visionary or visionaries in place, appropriately backed by good information and financing. What will the future hold? It’s hard to tell at this juncture. Maybe it will become a mixed-use venue integrating housing, retail, transportation or even a section for a city museum. Doubtless, with input from citizens like Mr. Ligon and others dedicated to ensuring South Carolina’s capital city retains its character through successful historic preservation initiatives, Columbia’s future will be bright, appealing and vital.

For more information about Historic Columbia Foundation’s preservation activities and programs, or to take become involved in the Foundation’s next fifty years of preservation advocacy, visit our website at www.historiccolumbia.org.

Image
Built to withstand 25,000,000 pounds of cotton, the Palmetto Compress warehouse was considered a substantial engineering accomplishment. Here, farmers load 500-pound bales for processing at textile mills, circa-1945. Image courtesy of Ann Thomas Waites

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