On this day in 1886, at about ten minutes to ten in the evening, an earthquake of roughly magnitude 7.0 struck Charleston, South Carolina. About sixty people were killed. Some two thousand buildings were damaged, with losses then estimated at five to six million dollars. The shaking was reported over an enormous area of the eastern United States, as far away as Boston and Chicago.
What makes it unusual to geologists is that Charleston sits far from the edge of any tectonic plate. Earthquakes are most common where plates meet; this one happened in the middle of one, on old faults buried deep beneath the coastal plain. Nobody in 1886 could have known that. Plate tectonics was eighty years off, and the survey work done in the weeks afterwards, walking the streets and recording where chimneys fell and which way walls leaned, was among the first careful mapping of an American earthquake's reach.
Aftershocks continued for weeks. Many families would not go back indoors, and slept in squares, gardens and open ground. Doctors and neighbours dressed injuries by lamplight in the open air, because it was the only place thought safe. The photograph below shows a collapsed portico heaped at a street corner, two men standing in the rubble. The newspaper front page from the following day carried the first reports north.
The telegraph lines out of Charleston went down in the shaking, so the first news north travelled slowly and arrived garbled, with early accounts wrong about both the damage and the toll. Restoring the wires was among the first tasks, and it took days before families elsewhere had reliable word.
You can still read the repairs on the house fronts in Charleston: iron rods driven right through the buildings, capped outside with round or square washer plates, sometimes shaped like small crosses. Masons and ironworkers put them there in the months after 1886, and they are holding those walls yet.