Trip to ghost town proves to be eventful

It's hard to find a town that doesn't exist any more - luckily, Google maps still had Hamburg, S.C. listed.

On Friday, I ventured out to find Hamburg after Carol Poplin, senior project manager with the History Workshop, mentioned it to me while discussing the train dioramas in the new Aiken Railroad Depot for a story I was working on.

The dead town sparked my curiosity, and I did a little research. I found that the town suffered from both a massacre and severe flooding, pushing it slowly to its demise. I wanted to see what was left of Hamburg, if anything.

Hamburg, which was located along the Savannah River, is pretty much a brick yard now. Piles of cinder blocks tower over the remnants of the old town. Splintered pieces of gray wood that were once homes and businesses sit in piles in the gnarly woods.

An old train depot sits out of place in the middle of the brick yard. The building was painted a dull yellow, and the frames of the windows were a shade of mint green, but it was the brightest thing left of Hamburg. Some of the windows were cracked, and I tried peeking into the dusty, old glass, but I couldn't see much. I believe I saw a tree growing from inside the depot and a white crock pot with red flowers painted on it sitting upon a table, but my eyes may have deceived me.

After walking around for several minutes, I noticed a building with a sign that said "Hamburg Country Store, Established by Henry Schultz July 1821 - re-opened March 1969 by H.P. Farmer." All I paid attention to was the "re-opened" part, and I waltzed in after hearing a few voices.

I found myself in a treasure trove of beautiful antiques. I timidly walked over to a man in a red shirt and he smiled, shook my hand and then asked "Who are you?" I found that to be an odd question and then realized that this place may not be open to the public.

It wasn't open to the public. That man, Gary Bernson, was very nice about my intrusive behavior, offered me a bottle of water and introduced me to his wife, Rebecca. She explained that her 89-year-old father, Gordon Farmer, had been collecting these items since he was 5 years old, and they were just organizing it all. Gordon is a sort of local celebrity I found out, as his collection was featured on the television show "American Pickers," which is shown on the History Channel.

The place was filled with old pinball machines, jukeboxes, telephones, flashlights, bicycles, Coca Cola items and more. The list of things that Gordon collected throughout his life was quite endless, and I greatly appreciate the Bernsons for showing me around and understanding my confusion by the sign on the store.

I drove out of the brick yard and ended up on another road that only led me to a golf course. The entry of the golf course had an old, cinder block building that was boarded up, and I wondered if that was another old Hamburg building. It looked similar to a building that was pictured in blog where the writer actually went inside and photographed the place. The floors were practically dirt, and a random doll was in a corner. The writer of that blog said that out of all the dead towns he had visited, Hamburg one was the most haunting. I didn't catch that vibe, but I also didn't go inside an abandoned building with a creepy glass-eyed doll sitting there.

While driving back from the golf course, I came across a large snake that darted across the road. All I saw was a black body with what appeared to be yellow chevrons. Even though I was in my car, it startled me and I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting it. I wanted to take a picture of it but decided that would be in poor judgment to get near it as it had stopped at the edge of the woods and had its head erected in a threatening manner. I was pretty glad I chose not walk around that area because I was sporting some flip flops that would have not protected me from snake fangs.

Friday was nothing like I planned it to be. Honestly I don't know what I was expecting, but it was interesting. It definitely was a day full of beautifully random events.

For suggestions of where Amy Banton should go to next, contact her at abanton@aikenstandard.com.