The Spirited Story of 200 West Washington

At the corner of West Washington and South Vanderhorst streets in Winnsboro, the frame home at 200 West Washington carries a history marked by long pauses. County records date the completion of the house to 1870, but local history pushes the beginning back to the late 1850s. Construction froze when the Civil War pulled labor and materials away from Fairfield County, leaving the bare framing open to the weather for years before work could resume. Decades of piecemeal changes followed, with closed-in porches, added bathrooms and tacked-on rooms gradually shaping the sprawling, irregular footprint that stands today.

The ground beneath the structure holds an even older timeline. Remnants of a stone wall sit in the basement, left over from an earlier foundation. Fairfield County Historical Society records suggest a cotton gin workshop may have once occupied the lot before the residential home was built.

The more recent reputation of the house turns toward local lore. Accounts kept alive by the historical society point to the property as an active historic site. Local stories attribute the spirit in the home to either Pauline Dunlap Patrick, the last of the family line to live there, or to her mother. Following the Dunlap era, the property eventually transitioned to the Browder family around the turn of the millennium. It was during their decades of ownership that the unexplainable took a physical form. While working on the house, the Browders discovered old-fashioned wire hairpins and cat paw prints pressed into the newly shellacked floors, found more than once without a clear explanation.

Years later, after the Browder family residency ended, the house went back on the market. A real estate shoot for a client on a sweltering spring afternoon brought the quiet weight of this history into clear view. With no power running to the property, the empty rooms sat thick with South Carolina heat. At the foot of the central staircase, however, the temperature broke instantly. A sharp, localized chill hung in that exact spot, vanishing the moment a step moved a few feet away. As work continued through the ground floor with a 3D scanning camera, the cold air moved along as well, pressing steady against the back from room to room.

The second floor brought a different kind of resistance. In the upstairs hallway, camera gear worked loose from a tripod mount without warning. Down the hall in the primary bathroom, the scanning equipment stalled completely, glitching and refusing to process the space no matter how many times the angle changed. That room never got mapped.

Records point to a mother and daughter that once called the house home. The experience inside felt less like a ghost story and more like a resident still deciding who gets let in.

Stepping back out into the sun on West Washington Street, offering a quiet word of thanks before closing the door felt like simple respect. An old building is never just timber and plaster. It remains a place sharing space with everyone that left a mark.

Anna Garrison is a heritage photographer, author and storyteller based in Columbia. She is passionate about keeping history and human experiences alive through documenting the quiet details of historic structures, preserving forgotten architecture or sharing stories that connect us. Garrison is the founder of Her Story, Her Voice, a literary showcase that connects local women authors with the community to share their writing and their creative journeys, and is deeply committed to celebrating both the physical and human history around us. To connect with her, email [email protected] or follow @walking_through_yesterday and @herstory_hervoicesc on Instagram.