In 1951, Hilton Head felt like ‘our own little island’ for family

When she was 14 years old, Kay Moore traveled with her family from their home in Savannah to the low country of South Carolina.

In Bluffton, their car was loaded onto a barge with other supplies and floated across the waterway to a mysterious island.

It wasn’t the end of the world, but Kay was convinced she could stand on her tiptoes and see it from there.

“I kept telling myself this couldn’t be happening,’’ she said. “Here I was this young teenager, and they were dragging me to this God-forsaken island. What was I going to do?”

It was 1951, and she was feeling somewhat marooned. “Robinson Crusoe’’ must have suddenly appeared on her summer reading list.

Her new second home — Hilton Head Island — was a primitive and untamed patchwork of beaches, marshland, palmetto trees and plantations. There was only one road — and it was dirt. They would go for days without seeing another automobile.

Although there was no premonition anything special would ever happen on an island that was 12 miles long and five miles wide, there was a natural grandeur about it, too. It had a soulful history that dated back to 1663, when English sea captain William Hilton spotted it from his ship and came ashore to get a closer look.

When Kay and her family first visited, it was occupied by the native Gullah-Geechees, the ancestors of freed slaves who settled across the coasts of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida.

Her father, William Chandler Sconyers, had purchased property to build what would become the first beach house on the island. It was only fitting he named it Pioneer.

It was two-story and rustic, with a sleeping porch on top that provided a view of the Atlantic Ocean. Obviously, he could have had his choice of beachfront property, but he kept it pushed back as a buffer from the hurricanes.

“It felt like it was our own little island,’’ she said.

Kay, who has lived in Macon since 1963, remembers the first ferry, the first supermarket, motel and restaurant, the first marina, post office, newspaper and telephone.

She also remembers the first bridge. How could she ever forget the bridge? She was honored to cut the ribbon when it was dedicated 60 years ago last month, on May 20, 1956 – the year after she graduated from high school.

It was a two-lane toll bridge that would swing open to let the boats pass through. It was named after James Byrnes, who served South Carolina as a governor, congressman, senator, associate justice of the U.S. Supreme Court and secretary of state under President Harry Truman.

When the new four-lane Wilton Graves Bridge was dedicated in February 1982, Kay was invited back to take part in the ribbon cutting. Both times, she had the honor of cutting the ribbon with Verna Grace Crosby, the daughter of Graves, a state representative.

Jotting down memories

Kay chuckles when she reflects on the numbers. There were 48,000 cars that crossed the bridge the first year in 1956. Now, that many come over to the island almost every day. Hilton Head attracts more than 2 million annual visitors. In the summertime, the population can swell to as many as 275,000.

So what does a gracious Southern lady, a veteran of ribbon cuttings and a long shoreline of island history do with all those memories?

Kay began writing them down 25 years ago, and she interviewed Hilton Head natives with a shared sense of place. It all has come together in a 199-page book called “Before the Bridge: A Memoir of Hilton Head Island.’’

Landlocked Middle Georgians have been tethered to our state’s barrier islands for generations. It’s a time-honored tradition for families to vacation on the beaches of Tybee, Amelia and Jekyll. In the spring and summer, it’s practically impossible to traverse the marshes of Glynn — thank you, Sidney Lanier — without bumping into someone from Macon. That’s why St. Simons Island is often affectionately known as “Macon by the Sea.’’

Kay holds the same wide and deep reverence for Hilton Head Island. Others do too. They are her kindred spirits. When she sees the oval-shaped “HHI” decals on the back windows of their cars she knows those letters don’t stand for the Herfindahl-Hirschman Index or the Harvard Humanitarian Initiative.

For someone who remembers what the island was like when Gilligan could have been the boy next door, it’s almost surreal to see gold-plated venues on every corner. There are 16 gated communities, two dozen golf courses (including an annual PGA Tour event, the RBC Heritage), 350 tennis courts, some 250 restaurants, a symphony orchestra, and the largest annual outdoor wine-tasting event on the East Coast.

It’s enough to make her head spin, like all those roundabouts the traffic engineers have had to build on the island.

“My mother used to say it was so lonesome, … there just wasn’t anybody around,’’ Kay said. “Who would have known it would have taken off like it did?’’

Her father died in a traffic accident on the island in 1960. A World War II veteran, he was only 48 years old. Kay wishes he could have lived to see it flourish.

“He loved that island so much,’’ she said. “He adored the place.’’

Her mom, Catherine Heyward Sconyers, had a front-row seat to all the progress. She was from nearby Hardeeville and had family ties across the Harbor River in Bluffton. Not only did she own the first beach house on the island, she purchased the first condominium at Sea Pines Plantation. She died in 2002.

Kay recently dreamed that somebody decided to build another bridge at Hilton Head. She sat up straight up in bed and wondered if she would be invited back to cut the ribbon again ... and if she would still be around with a pair of scissors.

Sometimes, when she hears newcomers talking about the island, their history is short and their perspective is shallow. It makes her want to sit them down in a beach chair.

“Let me tell you about how it was before the bridge …’’ she might start, bending their ears toward the whitecaps.

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This story was originally published June 11, 2016 at 8:43 PM with the headline "In 1951, Hilton Head felt like ‘our own little island’ for family."