Karst County Courthouse was built in 1848 when the town incorporated, raised from native limestone quarried just outside the valley and set on the town square where it still stands today. The original design called for a modest two-story hall, but county commissioners voted to add the signature clock tower and cupola in 1851, determined that Karst Valley’s courthouse “would not be outdone by any county south of the river.” The clock itself — still ticking on its original works, with only the occasional overhaul — was shipped in by wagon from a foundry back east, and locals say the whole town turned out to watch it hoisted into the tower.
The building’s Greek Revival columns and portico were added during an 1880s renovation, giving the courthouse the grand entrance visitors see today, and the structure has been in continuous use as the seat of Karst County government ever since — weathering a fire scare in 1922, a near-demolition vote in the 1960s (defeated by a single ballot), and a full restoration in the 1990s that preserved its original limestone façade. Today, the courthouse anchors the town square much as it always has, its clock tower visible from nearly every street downtown, and its front steps still serving as the traditional gathering place for everything from election-night crowds to the annual Founders’ Day parade.
Courthouse Coffee Shop has served the corner of Main and Justice Street since 1947, when local widow Opal Dessaline took over the ground floor of the old Dellinger Building — a limestone-fronted structure built in 1911 to house county clerk overflow — and turned it into a coffee counter for the lawyers, jurors, and clerks spilling out of the courthouse across the street. Opal made a name for herself refusing to close during jury deliberations, no matter how long they dragged on; local legend holds that during the infamous 1958 Ambrose trial, she kept coffee and pie flowing across the street for all 31 hours the jury was sequestered. Regulars still call the dark roast “Deliberation Blend” in her honor.
The shop passed through three generations of Opal’s family before the Kepfords took over in 1989, expanding the menu and adding an espresso bar in the early 2000s. Today it’s easy to spot the shop’s history in the details — a room full of mismatched chairs (rumored to be furnished entirely from courthouse estate auctions), an unofficially reserved corner table where off-duty judges and attorneys still hash things out over coffee, and a back wall lined with old clippings from the town’s more colorable trials. With 60 drinks and 30 baked goods on the menu, there’s something for every verdict — whether you’re settling in for a long deliberation or just stopping by during recess..