It is almost 5 o’clock on a cool September morning, and I'm anxiously searching for the fork in the road, that will lead me to Magwood Seafood Company in Mt. Pleasant. I finally find the warehouse-like building and, behind it, the monstrous shrimp boats looming silent in the early darkness. Growing up on the Charleston coast, I spent my summers sliding down sleek dunes and chasing crabs from gullies. From the beach I watched awkward shrimp boats travel slowly back and forth, flocks of seagulls trailing behind. They never came near enough for me to see anyone on board; when I did see these boats close-up, they were empty and shadowy at Shem Creek, silent statues advertising the restaurants' offerings.
But this morning the restaurants are still, while on the boats crews are clamoring about. Just another workday, but for me the shrimp boats would finally come alive. Hearing a car engine, I look over at the next dock where headlights are shining a pathway of light over several boats.
"Mr. Magwood?" A large man is leaning over the trunk, unloading bags.
"Yeah. Come on over." I recognize the gruff voice from our telephone conversation the day before, and follow his brief orders. Clarence Magwood, Jr. is mumbling and cursing. One of his crew is sick, leaving him with just one man. I follow this sole crewman, Alvin Hamilton, crossing two other boats to get to the "Skipper and Wayne." The six docked boats are painted white with the same lime-green trim, and all but one are captained and named after Magwood family members.
We shake hands over the water, and Magwood roars for Alvin to get going, climbing onto the boat. We are the first to leave. As the other boats pull out slowly behind us like a mother duck with faithful ducklings in tow, the radios begin clicking with messages and jokes. Shrimpers' humor is good-natured and sympathetic; these men understand what it is to be dependent on the temperamental ocean. At dawn the heavy, 75-foot green nets swinging from the outriggers over the deck are dropped, one on each side. We are now "dragging." A small "try net," the only means of predicting what lies beneath these particular waters, is checked periodically. We cross the body of water between "the jetties" (a series of rocks used as markers by local boaters) and Morris Island. This is the preferred hunting ground for Magwood's empire this week. During shrimping season, from May until December, they're out seven days a week, and sometimes don't return to shore for several days.
In the cabin, Alvin makes a big breakfast — eggs, bacon, corned beef hash with onions, grits and toast. Watching me stumble around, he warmly assures me, "You'll get your sea leg directly." He has an easy but self-conscious smile; at 42, he is older than most of the others who work as crew. "One time, I made $1,000 in one drag," he tells me. A crewmember's pay depends on how many shrimp are caught and the price of shrimp, which changes daily.
From the wheelhouse, Magwood bellows for me to come watch the sun rise, as he idly steers the boat with a bare foot. The 68-year-old captain is large-bellied and heavy-set, with eyes that squint regardless of the sun, and a hook of a nose. There is but a small patch of strawberry-blonde hair on his head.
The Mt. Pleasant native built the "Skipper and Wayne" with his brother 40 years ago, naming it after his sons and training his four children on the craft. At the wheel he is silent and calm, effortlessly guiding the boat. I get the impression that the depth-finder and channel-marker— the fancy electronic equipment that flash fluorescent lines and squiggly marks — are only for show, or perhaps reassurance, since Magwood has been dragging these waters since he was 14.
Two hours later, the nets are bulging. One at a time the outriggers swing in and over, heavy with booty. Alvin tugs at a rope and one net bursts like a piñata, releasing hundreds of ocean goodies. When the second net is emptied the deck is a crawling, wiggling, foot-high mass. Overturned horseshoe crabs wave their spiny legs helplessly, while flapping seabats send shrimp and crabs flying. With a hoe-like tool, Alvin sits on a small stool and begins the painstaking process of sorting out the shrimp. Everything else is "junk," to be swept overboard through the scuttle holes, where screaming seagulls and porpoises follow to catch the scraps. A cigarette dangling from his lips, Alvin patiently plows away, bypassing prickly catfish, conchs, sea spiders and squid. He hands me a tiny sea horse, already stiff and dried-out, and tosses a few soft-shelled crabs aside for himself. The shrimp go into wooden crates in the "hole," an insulated cooler beneath the deck where icemakers are humming. This first haul takes Alvin nearly three hours to sort.
At lunchtime, Alvin's hands again go to work, peeling cool, gray shrimp for shrimpboat stew — shrimp and onions cooked in a tomato base and served over rice. "There's so much trash back there sometimes," he says, referring to the now spotless deck, "you don't have time to cook." A crewmember since age 17, Alvin's hands are roughened and raw from scrubbing pans and handling prickly shrimp, and his sideburns are graying on his brown face.
After lunch, the deck is again splattered with more "junk" for Alvin to sort. On the third haul a sea turtle appears in the midst of the squirming downpour; Alvin throws the heavy, blinking creature overboard immediately.
By 5:30 p.m. we're heading back to the docks again, though regulations permit dragging until half an hour before sunset. At Magwood Seafood, the captain's daughter, Cheryl Ann, is waiting to weigh in the catch of the day. The Skipper and Wayne's total is five and a half baskets, nearly 200 pounds worth $700. An average day brings in anywhere from 180 to 350 pounds. The shrimp will be deheaded first thing in the morning, and sold mostly to large packers or wholesale to the general public.
"I reckon I'm a millionaire," Magwood tells me at the dock, his eyes not leaving the water. "That's what the bookkeeper says. But I'm just a hard working man, that's all. I like the peace and quiet of the ocean."
That was several years ago. I revisited the Magwood dock recently on a dreary March day. South Carolina's commercial shrimpers have declined over the years, and what was once the Magwood empire reflects this: Clarence Magwood, now 73, is retired due to a disabled leg, though he still makes regular appearances at the family dock. The Magwood fleet is down to two: sons Wayne and Scotty continue to carry on the tradition. Alvin Hamilton no longer works on the docks. President of the S.C. Shrimpers Association, Wayne says the life of a shrimper is a hard one but it's in his blood: "It's been good for me, but the older I get, the harder it seems." Chasing shrimp from North Carolina to Cape Canaveral, he's sometimes been on the water as long as 11 days. During off- season, you're likely to see his boat, Winds of Fortune ("I've been meaning to rename it after my dad, I just haven't got around to it.") docked at Magwood's next to The Wreck restaurant.
These days, says Wayne, 400 pounds with heads off — or $1,000 gross — is a good day. South Carolina shrimpers annually harvest five million pounds, making it a $30 million industry. If you're looking for local shrimp you can find it — Magwood Seafood sells it by the pound from their dock at 110 Haddrell St. in Mt. Pleasant in the Old Village (you have to turn down Magwood Lane to get there). You're also likely to sample Wayne's or Scotty's catch while dining at The Wreck, Shem Creek Bar and Grill, Sewee Restaurant in Awendaw, and RB's.
"During the season we've got the freshest shrimp in town," brags Wayne. "And even in off season, we've always got fresh frozen local shrimp available." If he's around when you pick up your shrimp, Wayne might even give you a tour of his boat.
Want to see Charleston from the water? Take a boat tour on the Schooner Pride.
Departs from Aquarium Wharf in downtown Charleston
(843) 559-9686 www.schoonerpride.com
Or, take a look at the other side of Charleston from the water with a tour on Sandlapper Water Tours. Sandlapper departs from the Charleston Maritime Center near the South Carolina Aquarium. Call 843-849 TOUR or visit www.sandlappertours.com.
Find Charleston area real estate professionals who can help you find and buy a full time Charleston residence, vacation home or condo.
Peninsula Grill has been likened to the cosmopoli- tan supper clubs of the first half of the 20th century. With its velvet-lined walls and cypress woodwork, it's a stylish setting for Executive Chef Robert Car- ter's renditions of Lowcountry classics complemented by playful takes on Southern-influenced American cuisine. One of only two Mobil four-star restaurants in the state.
Hyman's Seafood is located in historic Charleston. We specialize in fresh local seafood, award winning she crab soup, great wine at supermarket prices and fast friendly service. NY Times: "Great Southern cuisine with impeccable service." Travel and Leisure: "One of the more fascinating eating establishments in our trip through the Southeast."
Historic Charleston Properties is synonymous with the sale and purchase of the highest quality properties in Charleston’s historic district. Equipped with extensive knowledge of the city’s houses, we handle many of the most important houses that come to market. Owning a home the Holy city has never been easier.
It is almost 5 o’clock on a cool September morning, and I'm anxiously searching for the fork in the road, that will lead me to Magwood Seafood Company in Mt. Pleasant. I finally find the warehouse-like building and, behind it, the monstrous shrimp boats looming silent in the early darkness. Growing up on the Charleston coast, I spent my summers sliding down sleek dunes and chasing crabs from gullies. From the beach I watched awkward shrimp boats travel slowly back and forth, flocks of seagulls trailing behind. They never came near enough for me to see anyone on board; when I did see these boats close-up, they were empty and shadowy at Shem Creek, silent statues advertising the restaurants' offerings. 
In the cabin, Alvin makes a big breakfast — eggs, bacon, corned beef hash with onions, grits and toast. Watching me stumble around, he warmly assures me, "You'll get your sea leg directly." He has an easy but self-conscious smile; at 42, he is older than most of the others who work as crew. "One time, I made $1,000 in one drag," he tells me. A crewmember's pay depends on how many shrimp are caught and the price of shrimp, which changes daily. 
After lunch, the deck is again splattered with more "junk" for Alvin to sort. On the third haul a sea turtle appears in the midst of the squirming downpour; Alvin throws the heavy, blinking creature overboard immediately. 
Peninsula Grill has been likened to the cosmopoli- tan supper clubs of the first half of the 20th century. With its velvet-lined walls and cypress woodwork, it's a stylish setting for Executive Chef Robert Car- ter's renditions of Lowcountry classics complemented by playful takes on Southern-influenced American cuisine. One of only two Mobil four-star restaurants in the state.
Hyman's Seafood is located in historic Charleston. We specialize in fresh local seafood, award winning she crab soup, great wine at supermarket prices and fast friendly service. NY Times: "Great Southern cuisine with impeccable service." Travel and Leisure: "One of the more fascinating eating establishments in our trip through the Southeast."
Historic Charleston Properties is synonymous with the sale and purchase of the highest quality properties in Charleston’s historic district. Equipped with extensive knowledge of the city’s houses, we handle many of the most important houses that come to market. Owning a home the Holy city has never been easier.
