That was back in 1827, when Poe had been dispatched to the island's Fort Moultrie, newly enlisted in the U.S. Army and yet to spawn his brooding brand of literary creepiness.
Today, Sullivan's Island is a wonderland of opulent beach houses and hip watering holes, set against swaying palms and sparkling Atlantic breakers. It's a locale beloved by locals and tourists alike, most of them pouring in from nearby Charleston.
It certainly was a fun place this week to tool around on cruisers with my wife and brother, the wind in our hair, sandy pathways crackling under our tires, and the ghost of Mr. Poe chasing us from the shadows, his words stirring the imagination: "Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”