Hard to Part

The moveable letter sign outside of the now-closed Charleston Hardware still reads, “It’s leaf time.” But inside, it was time to leave.
For the past 50-plus years, Charleston Hardware on Wappoo Road had been one of the best spots to pick up the odd plumbing fixture, or get some advice on how to complete a nagging household project.
But last week, customers coming up to the front door didn’t smell the familiar scent of just-popped popcorn. They were confronted with brown butcher paper covering all the windows and locked front doors from the inside.
A simple note taped to the door read:
“Due to illnesses within the family and unforeseen circumstances, Charleston Hardware will no longer be open for business. We would like to thank each and every customer that has come through these doors over the years. We apologize for any inconvenience this may result in.”
Reached via email, a member of the Metz family, which has owned and operated the store for the past few years, asked for privacy.
Without further information, locals have tried to create their own narrative of what happened to a local landmark.
Apparently, it will be hard to find the same kind of personal customer service, arcane plumbing fixture, and knowledgeable staff at any of the nearby national chain big box hardware megastores.
On the “You KNOW you’re from West Ashley if …” Facebook page, close to 70 comments of support and dismay popped up in under a day and a half.
Denise Koster’s dad, John, built and owned the original before selling it a few years later to Jimmy Crull.
Koster posted: “This was the place back in the days [that] if you were ever looking for a husband or a father and they couldn’t be found, all you had to do was swing by Charleston Hardware and nine times out of 10 you would always find them there.”
One poster teased Koster that he found a former wife working the counter. He said that if her dad or Mr. Crull had been working there, he would have taken her back and they would have refunded his money.
Lisa Bledsoe Parr-Smith remembered saving up all her babysitting money back in the summer of ’73 to buy her first bicycle there. When she got there, there were no more bikes, but Mr. Crull rolled out one he’d been keeping just for her, knowing she wanted one.
Elizabeth Peckham Whitworth said her young son and daughter “would both decline a trip ‘to the hardware store’ when asked by their dad, but if he rephrased it as ‘the popcorn store,’ they beat him to the car.”
Bird Pape reminisced, “I remember my father taking me there for various home projects etc when my brother and I were between 5-10 years old. We’d always go straight to the glass case with all the Swiss Army and Buck knives.
“My brother and I would stare in awe at each tool and discuss which one we wanted until it was time for our dad to checkout and leave the store.”
Karen Biggs Easterby tried to find closure: “I think what needs to be said is that they closed because of us. We all tend to go for what is convenient or inexpensive. There have been times I hit them up for really hard to find things, but otherwise I would hit Lowe’s because it’s easier to get to from home. It’s a shame, and hindsight is 20/20. I really wish I’d spent more of my hardware trips there.”
Ronnie Albee spent 35 years at the store. He started out at 17 building bikes and soon became the manager. He was there when it was a True Value. He was there when the Crulls sold to the Metz family. He was there when Lowes opened. “And we still managed to make a living,” he said, proudly.
It used to be said when Albee worked there, “If Ronnie don’t have it, you don’t need it.” Several posters noted that the shelves had become noticeably barer the last few months.
For the past seven years, Albee has worked at the True Value on James Island, but he has nothing but praise, respect, and affection for the Kosters, the Crulls, and the Metz families.
“My best memory of working there over 35 years? Every day,” said Albee.
Unfortunately, it looks like Charleston Hardware is now just a memory, too, but one of West Ashley’s best memories.