Not everyone can remember the exact moment the decision to move to Charleston was made. It was May 27th of 1977 and I was sitting on the upstairs piazza at the famous Poogans Porch restaurant. The meal had been superb and I lingered a bit watching a few horse draw carriages move down Queen Street. That was when Queen Street got quiet late in the evening. My day trip down from Myrtle Beach had surprised me with the Spoleto Festival well underway. In that one day I had seen a drawing room comedy play, shopped for art in the park and attended an outdoor jazz concert. By the end of that day I knew I would never miss the Spoleto Festival again and I was moving to Charleston.
This year marks the 40th season of the festival and it promises something for
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