Читать книгу Atlanta - Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow - John R. Hornady - Страница 6

WHEN Hardy Ivy built his log cabin in the splendid solitude that existed here in 1833, the Indians still had their grip upon the land and were reluctant to surrender it. Not gifted with the intellectual refinements that characterized the white man, they were slow to see the logic of the suggestion that they pack their simple belongings and depart to some remote spot beyond the Father of waters where they might remain in peaceful possession of their land until, ah; well, let's say, until the white man caught up with them again!

The group which existed in this section at that time and which had no claim upon the land other than that they had occupied it for a few centuries, consisted largely of Cherokees. They were a peaceful people for the most part, and really the only charge that can be justly laid at their door is that they were a bit stubborn, and, as indicated above, slow to understand. They offered no armed resistance when their land was taken from them, but put the whites to a lot of inconvenience by refusing to leave until, by force of arms, they were persuaded so to do. They had to be rounded up, which was a lot of trouble to begin with, and then an escort had to accompany them all the way upon that long and perilous journey; a journey upon which a number of the escorts died of privation and hardship. Some four thousand of the Indians died also.

As individuals are born in hours of agony, so also are empires, but, O, the tragedy of it! The eviction of the Indians from Georgia began on May 24, 1838, five years after the first house had been built upon the ground where Atlanta now stands. This cabin remained the only one in the vicinity until about the time the Indians were scheduled to go. Then in 1839, with much talk of railroads coming in, the solitude began to be broken by the sound of the axe and the saw. John Thrasher, a merchant, came in and erected a house, and was followed by several others. Then Thrasher laid the first stone in what was to become a mighty commercial structure by opening a general merchandise store under the name of Johnson and Thrasher. But, if anyone should have asked Mr. Thrasher the commonplace question, "How 's business? " he would not have found the gentleman very enthusiastic, for trade languished to such an extent that the owners finally decided to move elsewhere. But in this, they erred, not reading aright the signs of the times, for while progress moved with leaden tread, it moved with certainty, and the time came when Thrasher saw the error of his way and returned to the new community to again become identified with its commercial life. In this he set an example that has been followed by many since his day, so much so that it has become a proverb that "Once an Atlantan, always an Atlantan."

The little hamlet, still known as Terminus, languished until in the early forties, by which time connection with Marietta was established. But, alas, when this railroad appeared it was like an automobile stranded on a lonely highway with an empty gas tank. There was no engine with which to operate! The road then was finished only between Atlanta and Marietta, but everyone was eager to see it in operation.

After some casting about, it was found that a locomotive could be obtained at Madison, but Madison was some sixty miles away and there was no railroad connection. In this emergency, those hardy pioneers of 1842 did a bold and spectacular thing. They caused to be made the heaviest wagon that any individual in this section had seen until that time, and, when this huge craft was completed, they loaded the locomotive upon it and started across country for Terminus. Sixteen mules furnished the motive power, and one may imagine the strain and stress of that tortuous journey across sixty miles of country, with mere trails for roads. Yet the bold exploit proved successful, and the locomotive was placed safely upon the rails in Terminus in time to make a Christmas Eve trip to Marietta, December 24, 1842. This initial train consisted of the engine and a lone box car, but a large crowd gathered in honor of the occasion, the people coming from miles around, and the introduction of railroad transportation was fittingly celebrated. Enthusiasm was at a high pitch because the road from Augusta was being pushed forward and it, too, would soon become an actuality.

From this time forward events moved with a surer, more sustained tread. Farmers began to bring their products to Terminus, and sundry manufacturing enterprises were launched, while real estate men, alert then as now, began to see possibilities in the situation. Subdivisions were opened and an auction of town lots was held. As these lots were located in the very heart of what was to be the metropolis of the future, they became the basis of more than one great fortune, and today many of them are adorned with graceful office buildings that tower high into the blue.

Meanwhile the town had been incorporated as "Marthasville," the name being adopted in compliment to a daughter of Wilson Lumpkin, former Governor, who had been zealous in the promotion of railroad enterprises throughout the State. It is a matter of interest, in this connection, that Marthasville was launched under the commission plan of government. This plan generally is referred to as "modern," but it was put in operation in this isolated hamlet at the beginning of 1844. There were five commissioners, as is the rule of the average commission governed city of today and they exercised legislative, administrative and judicial functions, just as they do at this time.

This early experiment in commission government was not a success, however, and at the expiration of four years, when it was decided to incorporate as a city instead of a town, the aldermanic system was substituted for the earlier plan, evidently in response to a very general demand. Meanwhile the name "Marthasville" had become too prosaic to suit the progressive citizenship, and it had been changed to Atlanta. This change was made officially by the legislature on December 26, 1845, but the town had been called Atlanta, by common consent, some time before this date.

Some controversy has existed concerning the origin of this name, and since there appears to have been no authentic data upon the subject even as early as 1859, it would be presumptions for one thus far removed from the date of Christening to undertake to speak with authority. However, the theory advanced in 1859 by Gr. B. Haywood, a prominent lawyer of the young city, is of interest. In the course of a descriptive article he said:

"Atlanta is a name which is understood to have been proposed by J. Edgar Thompson, at that time chief engineer of the Georgia Railroad. The significance of the name, the reason for its adoption, and the various theories on the subject have now become a theme of inquiry and investigation not without interest. The writer has heard it claimed as due in honor to a mythological goddess, Atlanta, said to have been remarkable for fleetness, strength and endurance. It was certainly a fast town then, and may have been supposed entitled to the honor of recognition by the goddess, by reason of its early character and its wonderful achievements. The name was for a short time written as Atalanta, which seems to favor the claim of the goddess. And still another theory is set up by some who claim for it an origin more worthy of its present importance as a railroad entrepot and commercial emporium, taken in connection with its future prospects as a great railroad center and manufacturing city. The great State work, connecting the waters of the West with the Atlantic, commencing at Chattanooga, on the Tennessee River, and terminating at this point, had nearly been completed the name ' Western & Atlantic Railroad,' had been given to it by the Legislature of Georgia, and it was not inaptly considered the great connecting artery through which must pass the incalculable mass of produce, manufacturers and commerce from the great valley of the West and the Atlantic Coast, and the imports from abroad passing thence to the far West.

" Atlanta had been permanently fixed as the southeastern terminus of that great State work, and gave a local idea to its eastern terminus, and that idea, represented and qualified by the adjective Atlantic, was incomplete of itself, but early pointed to something more definite, and the mind is put upon the inquiry for the thing signified. The connection by rail from Charleston by way of Augusta, and from Savannah by way of Macon, had both been completed to this point. These roads had been gradually ascending the hills from the coast, in search of a 'northwest passage;' they had searched the hills upon which the city stands and here they met the Western & Atlantic Road, just emerging from the wilds of the Northwest, seeking by a sinuous and difficult ascent from the Western valley for a highway to the Atlantic. They met together on our streets, they embraced each other upon the headlands of the Atlantic.

"These headlands, when embodied in the noun Atlanta, to our mind, meets the demand and represents the ideal of the thing sought after, and the mind rests upon it as the thing signified by the several indices pointing to Atlanta as the proper name for such a place. This we now state to the public as the true derivation sustained by the facts in the case."

After reading this charming conception, from the pen of one who obviously loved the city and who had a true appreciation of the greatness which the future held for it, one is inclined to let the matter rest there. Besides, where a name comes from is not particularly important, the thing that counts is what it stands for now, and surely the name Atlanta has its full significance today and is inseparable from the idea of spirited accomplishment.

The early enterprise of Atlanta was shown in the manner in which the young City went after desirable enterprises. The location of the annual fair of the Southern Agricultural Association as a permanent thing was accomplished in 1850, a gift of $1,000 in cash and the donation of ten acres of land being the prime inducements. That so young a city caught so rich a prize almost in the beginning, is significant of the fact that community zeal, which is so pronounced today, is no new thing.

The somnolent sections of the State must have looked on aghast at some of the maneuvers of those enterprising Atlantans of the fifties, for, after getting the State Fair, they straightway began to lay plans for marching on Milledgeville and carrying the State Capital from that ancient town to the new and hustling city! what's more, they did it.

The measure of Atlanta's ambition and enterprise at the time it sought to become the legislative and judicial center of the commonwealth at so early a period, may be inferred from certain other proceedings adopted by the City Council on the same night that the removal resolution was passed, February 3, 1854. At this meeting the night police force was "increased to six men," and in order that there should be no loafing on the job, the ordinance required the chief of police to ''cry in a loud voice" from the council hall every hour in the night after nine o'clock, ''to which cry each of his assistants is to respond." It was also at this meeting that plans were inaugurated for establishing a gas lighting system.

This new system was installed by the following year, and Atlanta began to catch a metropolitan stride. Street lamps, using oil, had been introduced two years before, but the ordinance under which they appeared carried a specific provision that the citizens enjoying the benefits of these lights must furnish the fuel, an arrangement which suggests that the City Fathers of the period were familiar with the Bible and were particularly impressed by the injunction relating to keeping the lamps trimmed and burning, but they interpreted it as applying to the individual rather than to the corporate body.

The subject of fire protection also began to receive serious consideration in the early fifties, and an ordinance was passed providing for the digging of wells at Whitehall and Mitchell Streets; Norcross and Marietta Streets and Whitehall and Hunter Streets.

At the same time an ordinance was passed requiring each store to have a ladder and two buckets for use in case of fire. In 1854 the first fire station was built, being located on Market Street and being erected at a cost of $800.

About this time Atlanta began to grow at a rate which justified the faith of its most optimistic citizens, and events moved with ever quickening tread. Ambition grew, and in January, 1857, the young City came forward with an offer to take $100,000 worth of the stock of the Georgia Air Line Railroad, a new project which was being fostered and which the citizens of Atlanta were very anxious to see carried through. It is significant of the enterprise of the period and of the fundamental soundness of conditions in the new city, that it was touched but slightly by the panic of this year; a fact strongly emphasized by the confidence with which it was agreed to finance so large a part of a new railroad. The bonded indebtedness at this time was $47,000, including $5,000 issued to the Georgia Air Line Railroad as first payment upon the subscription of the City. Of the remainder there was $4,000 for fair grounds, $16,000 for a new city hall, $20,000 for gas plant, and $3,000 in the Chattahoochee Bridge. The erection of this bridge had been fostered to the extent indicated, and the city had also pledged subscriptions to stock in two new board highways that were being brought thereto.

With the growth of Atlanta, which had attained a population in excess of 11,000 by 1859, slave traders began to come here to buy and sell, and for the first time, so far as it is known, the cry went up to protect home institutions. Local dealers brought to the attention of the governing authorities the activities of the outsiders who were dealing in slaves, and the upshot of the matter was the passage of an ordinance putting a tax on all persons, not residents of Atlanta, who bought or sold slaves in the City.

The development of the industrial life of the community had been almost as rapid as its commercial development, and coincident therewith slave labor began to cut a figure in the economic life of the community. White mechanics found it difficult to compete with slave labor, and considerable unrest developed. Urgent representations were made to the city council by members of various crafts, but no immediate solution of the problem seemed at hand, and the issue remained unsettled. Meanwhile, however, events in the nation at large were moving swiftly, and the time was not distant when this, and all other questions of local interest would be completely overshadowed. For the war clouds were gathering, dark, sinister and menacing, and all the vexing problems growing out of human chattles soon were to be settled elsewhere than in council chambers or civil courts.

Lest the reader infer that the ubiquitous newspaper man was slow about making his appearance in the young City of Atlanta, it might be well here to record the fact that the "Democrat" appeared in 1845. Then came the "Luminary," which for a little while shed its effulgence upon the community. It is significant and suggestive that this paper was started by a Baptist minister, Rev. Joseph Baker, a man of obvious faith, who no doubt felt the need of some spiritualizing influence in the community to counteract the element which toyed too often with that which biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder, and which flirted over-much with the goddess of chance.

With the appearance of these newspapers, it was inevitable that others should blossom forth, so presently "The Enterprise" was launched by Royal and Yarbrough, and "The Southern Miscellany," edited by C. R. Hanleiter, put in appearance. But not even Atlanta could sustain so much journalistic skill, and all of these ventures fell by the wayside.

But not for long was Atlanta a burying ground for newspapers. "The Intelligencer," published by A. A. Gaulding & Co., came along and grew into an influential journal, and with the approach of the war "The Southern Confederacy" made its appearance under the direction of James P. Hamilton. It, too, became a virile factor in the life of the community. "The Daily Examiner" appeared, which, with the "Intelligencer," gave the City two dailies. These were virile journals, as most Southern newspapers were at that time, and there was no hesitancy about criticizing when criticism seemed warranted. And how those old-time editors could put the "bite" in what they wrote! No putty-pointed barbs for them, but sharp and polished steel.

For instance we find the editor of the "Daily Intelligencer" disgruntled over the condition of the streets as they existed in February, 1852. Did he voice a feeble protest to the City officials, urging that steps be taken to remedy a deplorable situation? He did not, for he knew a more effective method of getting beneath the skin of those in authority, and, taking his pen in hand, he addressed the following to the world at large, heading the editorial "A Word to Strangers:"

" If you arrive in town on any of the numerous railroads that terminate here, it will probably be just before dark. After refreshing yourself with a hearty meal at some one of our well conducted hotels, you will feel a desire to take a stroll about town, at least through Whitehall Street. Starting from the vicinity of the railroads you can proceed fearlessly till you come to the first cross street, called Alabama Street. Don't think of walking out of your direction to walk up that street unless the moon shines particularly bright, or unless you hang to the coattail of some friendly guide; as without such aid you would probably find yourself in about two minutes at the bottom of a pit, fifteen feet in diameter by eighteen feet deep, which occupies the center of the road, and thus occasion considerable trouble to those who happen to be near, in procuring ropes to drag you out, and in such case, you might besides, be inclined to form an unfavorable impression in regard to our city regulations, as did a gentleman last week, who was hauled out of the pit pretty badly injured.

"Passing this point, you can continue in Whitehall Street, but by all means take the right-hand side, as on the left side are two deep trenches dug out of cellars. At present they are admirably adapted to catch unwary passengers. In one night last week, during a rainstorm, they caught no less than five — two ladies and three gentlemen, returning from a concert. One of these was a stranger in the City, and while spreading himself before a blazing fire in the Holland House, to dry the red clay with, which his garments were beautifully covered, gave way so much to his feelings that he was observed very much upset at the mention of our venerable city council.

"Proceeding on the right-hand side of the street you will have a very comfortable walk until you come to Cook's corner, where the pavement ceases. Here you had better turn square round and walk back, for directly in advance is another pit, fifteen by eighteen feet, ready to take you in. In some parts of the town we believe these holes have been covered over. The one in front of Loyd & Ferryman's store, where a man fell in and broke his neck some weeks since, we are credibly informed was promptly covered after the event."

This editorial throws light not only upon the condition of the streets at that time, but it serves also to illumine the journalistic methods of the period, for, mark the fact, there is a post-script, and it reads as follows:

"P. S. — Since the above was put in type we are gratified and delighted that each of the pits mentioned above, have been temporarily covered with plank so as to avoid recurrence of further accidents."

Why did the editor print the editorial after the conditions complained of had been corrected? Was it because there was no type with which to fill the yawning gap it would leave or because the editor having produced the satire, deemed it too good to be lost?

It seems to have been difficult, then as now, to keep highways in proper condition, for we find the "Daily Examiner" discussing the same subject, three years after the "Intelligencer" had found the evils corrected before he could get his criticisms into print.

The "Examiner," in October, 1855, called attention to the fact that a verdict had been returned against the City of Chicago in the sum of $3,100 in favor of someone who had been injured on the sidewalks of that city, and observed:

"Here is a warning to all municipal authorities, but particularly should it be to those of Atlanta. A walk down Whitehall Street is not the thing it should be, and we should not be surprised to hear some day of a verdict like that at Chicago, rendered by a jury of our own citizens in favor of some poor devil, over a broken leg, or of a widow with nine children, whose husband's neck was broken by a tumble into one of the numerous dark cellars that ornament the business part of the town."

In reading these ancient editorials, one wonders what they did with so many "dark cellars," since the Eighteenth Amendment had not been adopted, and why the widow, or, shall we say, tentative widow? should have nine children; questions the answer to which is lost in the mist and mystery of long-gone yesterdays.

With a virile press, with constantly increasing educational facilities, with a full quota of churches, with a multiplicity of manufacturing establishments, and with an ever expanding commerce, Atlanta continued to go forward at a most gratifying stride, and the approach of the great conflict between the North and the South, found it one of the most prominent cities of the South. The uncertainty which attaches to all new cities had disappeared. Permanency had stamped its mark upon the community and those who had invested their money here, faced the future with an assurance that became contagious. Growth was rapid, and the character of citizenship long since had ceased to be of the transitory, adventurous type.

It was thus that the war found Atlanta a prosperous, progressive and growing community, adorned with many handsome homes and pretentious places of business. The conflict left it deserted and desolate beyond all power of description. What shot and shell failed to destroy the flames consumed. Save for a few buildings, which for various reasons were left standing here and there as gaunt reminders of what had been, the City was reduced to a heap of smoldering ruins, a scene of vast and unutterable melancholy.

Sherman had proved to the full his theory of what war is.