Читать книгу Atlanta And Its Builders, Vol. 1 - A Comprehensive History Of The Gate City Of The South - Thomas H. Martin - Страница 7

In the spring of 1836 the music of an axe echoed through the forest that covered the hills destined to furnish the site of Atlanta. The brain of the man who swung the axe was not excited with mental visions of a "future great" metropolis where inside lots brought a fabulous price per front foot, and an acre of sterile red clay was infinitely more valuable than all the "diggings" of the Cherokee Nation. It is doubtful if the inner vision of that hardy pioneer — Hardy Ivy — extended further than a stumpy clearing in the woods surrounding a snug cabin with his children playing about the door. The ambition that nerved his arm to strike was the common desire for a home, and in this instance the home-seeker was contented with a very humble one. Mr. Ivy was a poor man, but he possessed the better qualities of the frontiersman. He had energy, pluck and courage. It had been his original intention to locate in or close to Decatur, but land was to be had almost for the clearing over toward the Chattahoochee, and leaving his family at Decatur, Mr. Ivy mounted a mule and went on a little land prospecting expedition in the uninhabited hill country to the west. Nothing but the settler's poverty led him to select the rough piece of woodland six miles above the county seat. It was forbidding enough. Hundreds of land-hunters had rambled over the unpromising soil before, and left it like the stone that the builders rejected. However, the tract was cheap, and that was the chief desideratum. Mr. Ivy concluded he could grub a living out of it, and preferred settling then and there to taking chances in the Cherokee lottery. Accordingly, he concluded the purchase, and having erected his log hut, removed his family to their new home sometime during the summer.

As has been stated in a preceding chapter, the year in which Mr. Ivy made his settlement was a momentous one in projecting railroad enterprises for Georgia. The convention attended by delegates from seven Southern states, which met at Knoxville, Tenn., on July 4, of that year, recommended the building of a road from Cincinnati to Knoxville, to connect with the two roads already in course of construction, one from Augusta, and the other from Macon. The Macon railroad convention, held in the fall, discussed a uniform system for the routes to be followed by the several projected roads, and passed resolutions calling upon the state to build the connecting link between the Tennessee and Chattahoochee rivers. By this time, the work of construction was already in progress on the Central, Georgia and Monroe railroads, and a charter had been granted to the State road in the west, since known as the Western and Atlantic. The Macon convention was instrumental in securing the passage of a bill by the legislature that winter, extending the charters of these roads to meet the expansive ideas of the railroad enthusiasts of the state. This bill, which was bitterly fought by the non-progressive element from the back counties, passed by a very narrow majority on joint ballot in the general assembly. Governor Schley affixed his signature to the act on the 21st of December, 1836. This legislative measure was of great importance in its bearing on the unborn metropolis. By its terms it authorized the "construction of a railroad from the Tennessee line, near the Tennessee river, to the southwestern bank of the Chattahoochee river, at a point most eligible for the running of branch roads thence to Athens, Madison, Milledgeville, Forsyth and Columbus." This made the way clear for the long talked of connecting link between the great highways of commerce between the Mississippi and Atlantic seaboard. It at once elevated the State road to the dignity of a great trunk line and forecasted its grand destiny. The determination of the eligible point spoken of in the act, called Atlanta into being.

The following spring (1837), Stephen H. Long, engineer-in-chief of the ambitious new railroad, went to the southwestern bank of the Chattahoochee to locate a suitable terminus, as directed by the state. Mr. Long was a practical man with no axe to grind. He saw at once that the topography of the region made the plan of locating an important terminal and junction point anywhere on the banks of the river unfeasible. Seven miles east of the river, however, he found what he considered the logical point for the purpose desired. Here the last foothills of the three great mountain ranges of the middle South converged in a manner that made them the natural roadbed for the proposed intersecting steel highways. Indeed, nothing was left for Mr. Long to do but acknowledge nature's provision in the matter. The place approved by his scientific judgment was peculiarly well adapted for an important railroad center, and he selected it without any hesitation. There was no haphazard luck or land-scheming involved in making the selection. It was in strict conformity to the immutable law of eternal fitness. The intervening years which have made Atlanta the hub from which numerous railroad spokes radiate, have confirmed the wisdom of the chief engineer's action. In no other place could an Atlanta have been built.

At the present day, an engineer bent on the performance of a mission such as that assigned to Mr. Long, would have been followed by an army of townsite promoters and speculators. Immediately upon the official approval of his selection, a rush to the "magic city" would have ensued, and ere a year had elapsed he farms for miles around would have been laid off in townsite additions. There would have followed a veritable "boom," and the scandal of official collusion with land agents for personal gain would have been inevitable. Nothing of the kind attended the location of the South's greatest railroad center and her Empire State's future capital. Engineer Long completed his important work practically unnoticed, and Hardy Ivy went ahead clearing his ridge farm in sublime indifference to the official survey and apparently without suspecting that a fortune was within his grasp. A few curious or captious politicians rode over his and adjacent land and went away shaking their heads. The Cherokee Nation boomers ran over it on their way to the latest El Dorado. It seems to have occurred to nobody to possess themselves of a few acres and quietly await the coming of the railroad. It is likely that few had faith in the road ever being built. Singular as it may seem now, a decided prejudice existed in the popular mind against railroads. They were regarded by many as anything but a desirable acquisition to a town, for the reason that they built up near-by competing trading points. The long-haul wagon traffic was a great thing in those days, and the town lucky enough to be the commercial Mecca of the white-topped caravans was exceedingly jealous of having its supremacy disputed by an upstart railroad station in the vicinity. Decatur was bitterly opposed to the new railroads coming to that flourishing wagon trade town, and if they must come, Mr. Long's paper metropolis was welcome to them. DeKalb's flourishing little courthouse town actually petitioned against the granting of a right of way through its corporate limits to the Georgia railroad, and by its determined opposition forced that road to run its track at some distance. This feeling prevailed in most of the interior towns of the state. The possibilities of development opened by the iron horse were appreciated by few, and it is to be doubted if the Macon convention represented the majority sentiment of the people. In that, as in most progressive movements, a handful of far-seeing, daring spirits, took the initiative while the great mass of citizens were either ignorant of their purpose or apathetic. Agitation was more apt to provoke a dangerous hostility than a favorable sentiment, and the general assembly had been none too soon in pushing its railroad measures to a vote. Generally speaking, the railroad was regarded as an innovation of questionable benefit or of positive detriment to the community. The logic back of the opposition to labor-saving machinery on the part of manual workers was advanced by this non-progressive element in opposition to the coming of the iron horse. In those days, each community lived to itself and was much more co-operative than since mechanical progress made possible the universal interchange of commodities. Every town had its skilled independent mechanics and small proprietors to supply the commercial needs of the inhabitants. Wearing apparel, household articles and farm supplies were largely manufactured in a crude way by local ingenuity and labor, and an industrial condition that built up great, urban working hives for the production and distribution of the things that went to supply human convenience and necessity was naturally regarded with suspicion. The railroads changed the thrifty independence of many of the flourishing country towns of half a century or more ago to a condition of comparative unimportance, insufficient self-support and dependence. The "old fogies" had wit enough to foresee this, and hence their seeming lack of enterprise. The most vociferous Othello of the time who feared his occupation would be gone was the teamster or wagoner who profited by the growing traffic as population increased. The men directly connected with or employed by the wagon trade were numerically strong and had much to do with exciting a bitter hostility to railroads. In not a few counties of Georgia this influential retrogressive element made their representative in the legislature pledge himself to oppose railroad legislation. In the vicinity of Atlanta there were men who made threats against the railroad property, and pioneer citizens residing in our midst recall the protestations of neighbors that they would never ride on the cars if they did come.

The Cherokee reservation settled up, and still Hardy Ivy was the only denizen of the embryonic city. But the State road was slowly creeping Atlantaward from the west, and as it approached Marietta, interest in the eastern terminus seems to have been revived to the extent of inducing one more settler to cast his lot on the future townsite. This man was John Thrasher, who had not located there for agricultural purposes. He had an eye to the near future and erected a combination house and storeroom. This was in 1839. Mr. Thrasher put a few staple goods on his shelves and sat down to wait for customers. He took a partner named Johnson, the firm name being Johnson & Thrasher. Business was slow and the visits of customers few and far between. The store did not enjoy the advantages of a well located crossroads general mercantile establishment, for it was out of the way and settlers living to the west of Terminus, as the place was beginning to be called, half in derision, as a rule continued to go to Decatur to trade. From the coming of John Thrasher, who was familiarly known to the few settlers of the vicinity as "Cousin John," until the coming of the railroad laborers to grade through the hamlet preparatory to laying the track, the dwellings in Terminus did not number over half a dozen, and these did not make the original Ivy cabin look humble in comparison. The early chronicles speak of Thrasher and an old woman and her daughter as the only residents of the place in the latter part of 1839. The railroad gang put in their appearance in the summer of 1842, and in June of the same year Willis Carlisle arrived and opened a store on what was afterward Marietta street, near the present location of the First Presbyterian church. Notwithstanding the graders were on the ground and the Chattahoochee already bridged, Thrasher moved to Griffin, declaring that Terminus was no good for trade and would never make anything with Decatur so close. At this time, the population of Terminus was less than thirty, and the country round about was sparsely settled.

Still, it cannot be denied that things began to look up in Terminus after dirt began to fly on the State road. The chief engineer had erected, not far from where the present car shed stands, a frame house, and two stories high at that, for the use of the officers of the road. For a year or two this unpretentious little building was regarded with great admiration by the citizens of the hamlet as the forerunner of valuable improvements. Men later distinguished as railroad magnates or public officers worked in this building as employees of the State railroad, among them Chief Justice Logan E. Bleckley, who years afterward served with distinction on the supreme bench of the state. Jonathan Norcross, the first mayor of the infant city, slept in this historic building the first night he spent in the place. The structure, showing sadly the effect of time, can be seen today standing on Peters street, facing the side of Trinity church. It is one of Atlanta's most precious heirlooms of the past, and yet not one in a thousand of the city's inhabitants know of its location or historic associations. Another important event of the latter half of 1842 was the birth of the first infant in Terminus. The little one, a girl, was the daughter of the new merchant, Willis Carlisle. She grew to womanhood in Atlanta and became the wife of the well-known iron founder, W. S. Withers.

The leaves of the forest trees amid which the cabins of the little hamlet clustered had turned yellow, brown, and fallen, when the graders had completed their task and the iron bands bound Terminus to Marietta. This work was done with the help of a locomotive, and after the track was in shape to receive one, the officers of the road prepared to have an engine brought across the country from Madison, a distance of sixty miles. The task was not an easy one, requiring an immense six-wheel wagon constructed for the purpose, and the propelling force of sixteen able-bodied Georgia mules. The work of hauling the locomotive over the rough roads consumed several days, but was attended by no accident. Its arrival was made the occasion for a gala day by the citizens of Terminus and the hundred or more railroaders in their midst. It must be borne in mind that thousands of people in northwest Georgia had yet to see their first steam engine, to appreciate the full magnitude of this grand celebration. For days before the arrival of the locomotive long strings of farm wagons had been moving up the hills that led to Terminus, some of the occupants having come extremely long distances to see the marvel of the century. Hundreds of Cherokee settlers were in the crowd and DeKalb and adjoining counties were almost depopulated to swell the sea of humanity gathered in the ambitious little burg. It is said that every man, woman, child, negro and dog in Decatur came over to see the mechanical monster run. It was equal to the biggest kind of a county fair. The stores and refreshment stands drove a thriving trade for several days, and after the curiosity of the crowd had been appeased, Terminus found that her population had been nearly doubled on the strength of the opening of the railroad to traffic. The locomotive, attached to a box car, made its first trip to Marietta on the 24th of December, pulling away from Terminus under a full head of steam amid the deafening cheers of the assembled multitude, many of the more exuberant discharging their fire-arms in their enthusiasm.

With the opening of the State road Terminus became a fairly good trading point, though there was no sudden boom and no realty holder became rich by quick transfers. The town moved on in humdrum country fashion, the merchants finding plenty of time to whittle goods boxes and swap yarns with their leisurely customers. There was a good deal of bartering in those days, and many frontiersmen used hides and furs in lieu of currency. The railroad gave the inhabitants no outlet for their small produce, and after the work of constructing the railroad was finished, the local market was very limited. Butter, eggs and the other commodities of the small fanner were a drug on the market, and as these had to be taken by the merchants in exchange for their goods, if they did any business, it is easy to imagine that no great degree of prosperity resulted. The year following the opening of the road there was talk about Terminus being "overdone," and some of the businessmen are said to have moved to Marietta and Decatur. The great need felt by the town was an outlet to the larger cities of the coast, and the coming of a road from the east was impatiently awaited. Even with two other railroads headed her way and expected to arrive within two or three years at the furthest there seems to have been no speculative interest in Terminus. The few lot-holders were apparently more interested in what the ground would produce in the way of garden truck and Indian corn than what it would bring in the real estate market. An attempt was made as early as 1842 to get up a little real estate excitement by some of the larger realty holders, but it amounted to little. A land auction was held that year and an attempt made to sell off the famous Mitchell lot, a year or two later the source of dangerous ill-feeling and litigation in which many of the older citizens were concerned. Fred Arms acted as auctioneer, disposing of three subdivisions to David Dougherty, Wash Collier and himself for a very modest sum. By this time there were perhaps a score of buildings in Terminus, most of them log dwellings. But five or six acres of the virgin forest had been cleared. The cross-roads leading to the hamlet, later known as Marietta, Peachtree, Decatur and Whitehall streets, were, when the place was known as Terminus, named for the original landowners, Reuben Cone, Ammi Williams, and Samuel Mitchell. After the railroad was finished, some of the laborers who had been thrown out of employment remained in the village, forming a rather disorderly and disreputable element of the population. They rendezvoused at a drinking dive kept by one of their number and spent their time largely in gambling and cock-fighting.

The engine hauled over from Madison continued to make regular trips over the State road, with W. F. Adair at the throttle. It was one of the largest locomotives manufactured at that time and had been christened "Florida." As traffic with the west increased, the prospects of Terminus brightened. Travel over the road became quite an item in the town's support, many of the travelers stopping over night to take the train. There was no tavern worthy of the name, but every house was an improvised inn. The entertainment of these transient guests helped to put money in circulation, and small things were not despised when Atlanta was in swaddling clothes. There was also quite a factor of support in the board and trade of the few railroad officials and employees who made their headquarters at Terminus.

It was not until two railroads had arrived in the place that the inhabitants enjoyed school facilities or a regular place of worship. No clergyman resided in Terminus, nor were there professional men of any kind. However, occasionally a circuit rider of the Baptist or Methodist persuasion would ride into town and announce a meeting, generally in the open air. On such occasions the citizens would turn out en masse. Louis L. Parham, one of the best posted chroniclers of Atlanta's early days, says of the primitive religious gatherings: "Early worship in Terminus was not conducive to great spirituality. However devout these pioneers, when it is considered how scant the means for communion, it precludes the thought that 'goin' to meetin' ' was other than irksome. And yet it is recorded that the handful of worshippers who gathered Sundays in any place offered them to worship the God of their fathers, were as devout as any of this day. The first place where services were held in the rude hamlet was in the open air near a cut made by the railroad builders. Some large rocks had been thrown out by the blasters, and on these a handful of men, women and children sat and listened to the simple services — 'praised God from whom all blessings flow.' They had the blue canopy of the heavens for a covering and the earth for a footstool. But this was not for long. As the place grew it became necessary to have a house in which to hold services. Occasionally they met in a two-story frame office building which belonged to the Western and Atlantic railroad and stood on a lot now occupied by the Southern Express company and the Brown building on Wall street." The building referred to by Mr. Parham was the frame structure used as headquarters by the officers of the old State road, spoken of in the foregoing.