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The Brick stands today on Fulton Street, just of King. It gives muted testimony to the sins of the city's fathers in years gone by.

Charlestonians of olden times boasted of their virtues and published their dueling code of honor to the world; however, the same Charlestonians cultivated their vices discretely behind closed doors -- doors of notorious establishments located on Fulton, West, and Beaufain Streets in what was known as the city's tenderloin district until the late 1950s.

Too bad that a dandy like James Boswell didn't leave us a diary of Charleston's "dark side" the way that descriptive essayist did of 18th century London. Fortunately, we have a resident expert on the seamy side of old Charleston's history. Mark Jones, local author and carriage tour guide, published a book a few years ago through History Press entitled "Wicked Charleston: The Dark Side of the Holy City" (2005). Mark's book makes an excellent airline read as it moves the reader from one tawdry scene to another in a manner that would have had Boswell and Samuel Johnson giddy with delight.

What makes port cities so sensual -- that's the enigma of travel. Around the globe inland cities appear pious and productive while coastal baronies languish in debauchery. The quays and grog shops of London, Bristol, Portsmouth, and Liverpool were the models for Charleston's early waterfront. The seagoing men of a dozen foreign ports brought a worldliness here, not to mention a profane nature, that was seldom seen elsewhere south of New York. Jones's Wicked Charleston does justice to the unflattering behavior of some of our colorful ancestors who trod these cobbled stone streets and inhabited these pastel, stuccoed mansions.

In one memorable chapter, "Sodom and Gomorrah of the South," Jones tells of the Methodist bishop, Francis Asbury denouncing "drinking, smoking, card playing, [and] sexual debauchery of the vilest kind" during his stay here. Asbury actually referred to Charleston as the "Sodom and Gomorrah of the South," according to Jones.

The chapter on lusty Charleston goes on to describe our city as a popular stopover for traveling troupes of actors back when people associated with the theater enjoyed a universally dubious reputation. Actresses particularly were frowned upon for their often lewd performances on stage and their loose behavior about town.

One company of players well-known in the 1790s was the French acrobatic company under the direction of Alexander Placide. Jones tells us that this unique group of ballet dancers, gymnists, and high-wire artists performed at a French-language playhouse located on the west side of Church Street and that several sexual scandals occurred here involving these celebrated performers. Placide's claim to fame was a "pleasure garden" he named Vauxhall located on the northeast corner of Broad and Legare Streets -- presently the location of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Patterned after the infamous Vauxhall park in London, the park allowed patrons to enjoy music amidst exotic surroundings lit with brightly colored lanterns. What went on in Vauxhall "stayed in Vauxhall."

Jones's best story, however, is the tale of Grace Piexotto, the madame of the "Big Brick," Charleston's most notorious house of ill-repute. With so many foreign sailors in town and a high number of well-off, indolent young gentlemen, brothels flourished here from the time of the city's inception.

Some of these dens of iniquity were mere taverns with client rooms upstairs. However, several of these houses of assignation served a well-heeled clientele, and that was the case with Grace Piexotto's parlor.

Jones tells us that Piexotto was an 18th century Charlestonian who, as a child, had witnessed a speech made by George Washington during his 1791 visit to Charleston. One version of Grace's story portrays her as the daughter of the music leader at Beth Elohim Synagogue, but that has never been verified. Legend has it that Grace plied her trade in the evening pleasure industry, and that she was so successful that she built her own establishment in 1852.

From New Orleans to Mobile, from Savannah to New York the crews of cargo vessels headed straight to the lounges that their depraved nature craved from long weeks at sea.

Few port cities possessed a fine, free-standing, brick hotel built exclusively by a madame for the evening pleasure trade. Down on Fulton Street today you can walk by the imposing edifice where alluring young women hailed passers-by from the windows as recently as the 1950s. Before the building was renovated as an office it had a brief history as a jazz night club, and it produced the "feel of New Orleans" as much as any place on the eastern seaboard possibly could.

Grace Piexotto knew that her upper-crust patrons desired privacy and refinement, and she delivered on both accounts. Her girls were well-mannered, stylish, and amiable conversationalists for the southern aristocratic gentlemen who came up Beresford Street (now called Fulton) in custom-made carriages. Downstairs there were parlors where guests could read the latest newspapers and magazines while they enjoyed brandy and a cigar. Upstairs Grace offered well-upholstered bedrooms for more intimate conversation. The Brick was not an establishment for the low-born in the antebellum era. For 50 years the so-called "carriage trade" of red-light industry did its business there. The expansion of the naval shipyard in the 1930s did change the nature of the flesh trade downtown, however.

An excerpt from a piece Mark Jones wrote about Grace Piexotto's establishment states, "If you couldn't pay -- well, Grace would just see to it that you didn't come back. In fact, brazen Grace Piexotto was so upset by students from the College of Charleston that she wrote the faculty of the college a letter asking them to keep their students away from her establishment." He goes on to say that city officials never bothered Grace's business, probably because these officials were patrons themselves.

The old madam became wealthy and influential. Piexotto was the model of discretion, and she became a confidante of notable Charleston men. Grace kept their secrets well and carried them with her to the grave. Margaret Mitchell even used Grace as the model for the fictitious character, Belle Watling, in her novel, Gone With The Wind. Jones recounts that when Piexotto died it was the Unitarian Church on Archdale which came forward to offer her a decent burial. Every other church in downtown Charleston was in fear that the madam desired their divine services as her last request.

No Charleston gentleman dared attend the funeral rite of the famous madam, but curiously the funeral procession included dozens of empty carriages -- carriages of the rich men who had been her faithful patrons. It is said that Grace's funeral procession was second in size only to that of John C. Calhoun.

In the late 1940s and early 1950s Charlestonians shopping at the nearby Colonial grocery store (site of the Canterbury House), or Al and Bella's corner store got an eyeful of pulchritude adorning the open windows of the Big Brick. The adjoining streets often had Lincolns and Cadillacs double-parked as early as noon.

By the end of the 1960s the trade in prurient pleasure had moved up on the Charleston neck leaving only The Big Brick as a reminder of what used to be. Read Mark Jones's book, Wicked Charleston, for dozens of other delicious stories about the City's past -- or better yet, take his carriage tour for a first-hand account.

(Dr. Thomas B. Horton is a history teacher at Porter-Gaud School. He lives in the Old Village of Mount Pleasant). Visit his website at www.historyslostmoments.com.)