Delila of Decatur -- An Antebellum Life in DeKalb County, Georgia

Portion of woodcut titled "Exodus of Confederates from Atlanta" at the Atlanta History Center Archives, Visual Arts # 564.  Probably from an 1864 Harper's Weekly.

     Delila loved her friends and family in her hometown of Decatur.  In the 1850s, the little community was already overshadowed by its bustling neighbor Atlanta, but it was the only home she had known.  It was a place where the warm dust of the unpaved streets puffed up between her bare toes on summer days as she walked past the two story, brick courthouse in the middle of town, something she must have done frequently as a young teenager.

     She probably didn't care much for the unimpressive courthouse with its towering square columns and steep double staircase rising to the second floor courtroom.  Built a few years earlier at a cost of

DeKalb County Courthouse, 1849

$15,000 (1), it was at this seemingly innocuous little structure that estates were probably sold off as heirs consolidated the deceased's property for disbursement.  In antebellum Decatur, this included a person's human property as well and the always tenuous family cohesiveness of slaves may often have ended in the shadow of this building's facade.  These mundane facts of life were important to Delila because this young woman was a slave.

     Before Fulton County was created out of it in 1853, DeKalb County was home to almost 3,000 slaves and 32 free blacks. (2)  Out of all that humanity, the slave Delila (sometimes spelled Delilah) is one of the few African Americans who comes down to us with a name and a story of her own, however truncated.  She even has enough of an historical presence to give us some idea of her life, work, talents and personality.  This would be rare for any woman from that time and place, but for a slave woman, it is virtually unheard of.

     In the last decade before the Civil War, Decatur was a dusty little courthouse town with a grand total of 86 white households.  It was described in the late 1840s as "a pretty little town situated on a ridge . . ." and is known for being "proverbially healthy."  With a population of 744, there were 252 slaves or 31% of the population.  In Georgia as a whole, slightly over one third of free households owned at least one slave, which is probably an accurate statistic for Decatur as well. (3)  In such a small town, Delila was probably known to most of the inhabitants of both races.  She belonged to a fairly prominent man named Alexander Johnson, who lived near the town square on the street leading to Atlanta.

     Records show that Johnson was secretary of the DeKalb County grand jury in 1840, making him one of the county seat's earliest residents.   His association with local courts indicates that he might have been an attorney but the 1850 census lists no occupation for this 35 year old man.  By 1848, however, he had been elected clerk of the county's Inferior Court -- a post he was re-elected to in 1850 and 1852.  In the latter year, he was also elected "Ordinary," a judge-like position dealing with the registration and probating of wills, the issuance of marriage licenses, and the handling of other similar legal functions where he touched the lives of almost all the county's residents at one time or another. (4)

     It isn't exactly clear when Johnson came to own Delila.  Slave schedules or lists were not added to the U.S. census data until 1850.  Even then, these millions of Americans were listed under their owners' names and only by age and sex.  As a result, the faceless and nameless people who did most of the heavy labor in the South and who kept many white households functioning are lost historically in a huge composite aggregation of statistics.  For instance, the 1850 census shows Alexander Johnson of Decatur owning four slaves, two adult males and two females aged sixteen and fifteen. (5)  Without names, we can only assume that Delila was one of these young women.

Image of a Georgia slave washer woman from the Hargrett Rare Book and
 Manuscript Library at UGA.

     So how do we know anything at all about Delila of Decatur?  The answer lies in Johnson's decision to sell Delila in Sept. 1853, because he has "another one" [female slave] whom he plans to "make a cook of."  Perhaps Delila was a poor cook or simply didn't like cooking.  Although Johnson doesn't say this, he obviously had higher hopes for his other prospect when he wrote to Decatur neighbor Lemuel P. Grant to see if he would like to purchase Delila, "sister of Dave," who we later learn is her brother.  Johnson feels that Grant already knows of Delila's "qualities and qualifications as cook, washer, ironer, etc." (6)  On the surface at least, it seems that Johnson was making an effort to sell Delila to someone who knew her, and into a household where one of her closest relatives lived.  For good or ill, nothing came of this offer in 1853.  Maybe Grant had sampled Delila's cooking and was unimpressed?

     Two years later, however, Johnson renewed his offer since he had decided to move West as part of the great southern migration to lush new cotton fields in places like Texas.  At age 40 (7), he might have been seeking a new life for himself and his three young daughters following the untimely death of his wife.  Whatever the reasons, Johnson decided to sell Delila before moving, perhaps to finance his relocation.  For this, he once again turned to Lemuel Grant.

Lemuel P. Grant

     Almost all Atlantans, even today, know about Delila's prospective new owner or have encountered his name.  Born in Maine, L. P. Grant made his fortune in the South as a railroad builder, engineer, and land developer.  During the Civil War, he designed the fortifications surrounding Atlanta.   In 1855, he was still traveling throughout the South building railroads while constructing a grand new home just south of Atlanta.  He was a busy man and would continue to be so until his death in 1893.  He was one of the city's wealthiest capitalists.  Most notably for later generations, he donated the land for Grant Park.  In the 1850s and like most of his peers, Grant was a slave owner. (8)  He was also dedicated to saving his papers which are now housed in the archives of the Atlanta History Center and which give life to the slave woman Delila.

     In the minuscule Decatur of 1855, Johnson and Grant were not only neighbors but were probably also friends. (9)  Because of his constant travels for work, Grant conducted much of the negotiations for the purchase of Delila via correspondence.  Through the Grant papers, readers and researchers in the 21st century get a rare glimpse into the life and times of this unique woman.

     Beginning on March 20, 1855, the depressing tale of Delila's eventual sale began again with a new letter from Johnson to Grant.  With his move west imminent, Johnson offers Delila to Grant and again emphasizes that his neighbor already owns her brother Dave.  More interestingly, this letter shows that Delila has evidently and boldly expressed a strong objection to any move from Decatur.  Johnson states off-handedly, "She does not want to go west, because I suppose she does not want to leave her friends."  Perhaps it went without saying that this young woman had no desire to leave the security of her hometown and nearby relatives for a life on the southern frontier.

Slave children in Georgia.  Image in the Hargrett Rare Book and
Manuscript Library at UGA.

     As inducements to the sale, Johnson goes on to say that Delila is a good house servant and cook.  Furthermore, he offers to take either cash or credit, along with offering Delila to Grant on a six month trial basis.  In a final postscript, Johnson adds, "I will sell her with her youngest child, 2 years & 2 or 3 months or without but [would] rather sell both together." (10)  Of course, we don't know if this was based on the humanitarian concerns of a kind owner or on the practical considerations of having to deal with a motherless infant or toddler, whether with a separate sale of the child or with taking him/her on the long trek to the West.  It is probably safe (and generous) to assume that Johnson was acting on a combination of both motives.  He quotes a price of $1,000 for the pair or $800 for Delila only.  In a follow-up letter, Johnson tells Grant that he can also buy another, older child of Delila. (11)  Thus we know that Delila, by the age of 20 or 21, presuming she is one of the two female slaves owned by Johnson in the 1850 census, had at least two living children.  It should be noted that $1,000 in 1855 equals approximately $17,778.00 in modern dollars.  With her youth and skills as a house servant, Delila was a very valuable commodity.

     To any current reader of these letters, the callousness and cruelty of Johnson is almost overwhelming.  By the standards of his 1850s white neighbors, however, Johnson was probably a considerate and even kindly master.  He claims to have been motivated by the desire to keep Delila united with her children, as well as her friends and relatives in Decatur, in partial explanation for proposing the sale.  Finally, he reiterates, if obliquely, that he is taking the young woman's personal feelings into account since she has verbally expressed her objection to leaving Georgia.

     As "Ordinary" or probate clerk for DeKalb County, Alexander Johnson understood the human dimensions of slavery as well as, if not better than, anyone else.  As owners died or estates were broken up for other reasons, slaves, as hugely valuable parts of these estates, were routinely sold.  It is likely that many such sales took place before the already mentioned courthouse in downtown Decatur where, in current times, people of all races gather for other civic events and equally share in the life of a small town that Delila liked so much in antebellum years.

     In Delila's day, this kind of racial equality was obviously never the case.  According to probate records created during Alexander Johnson's service as Ordinary, slave families were scattered by sales.  Two good examples are found in the records for December 1852.  When the estate of Paul Haralson was liquidated that month, eight of his slaves were sold to seven different individuals.  Although no ages are given, one was a "child" named "Narcissus," who went to a buyer different from any of the other new owners of the adult slave men and women also sold from that estate and who were surely her parents or parent.  Similarly, in the same month, seven slaves in the estate of James Reeves were sold to five separate men.  These slaves included five children from the ages of one to ten who became the property of three different buyers. (12)

     Delila's fate was marginally better since L. P. Grant and his wife must have known Delila personally and certainly had had the opportunity to make her acquaintance before the purchase, and vice versa.  By May 1855, Johnson had concluded the sale of Delila and, most likely, her younger child at least.  Since Grant had recently built a new house in Atlanta, Delila did not get her wish to remain in Decatur and Johnson wrote Grant urging him to send a "two team wagon" to get his new property and their "plunder," or personal belongings.  He added, "Please send for her instantly as she is entirely out of employ" and "home by herself," presumably at the former Johnson residence in Decatur. (13)

     At this point, most individuals in Delila's situation would have disappeared from any written records.  Delila, however, had some health problems which raised the question of Johnson's apparent sale warranty to Grant, which prompted more correspondence.  It also appears that Grant had "loaned" Delila to his sister-in-law Elisa who was living in Nickajack, most likely the Nickajack Creek area of Cobb County.  Although Delila was moving even further away from Decatur, she probably retained her status as a house servant since Grant's brother was neither a farmer nor a planter.  Perhaps she was still working as a cook or maid when Elisa wrote Grant in December 1855 saying how pleased she is with Delila and expressing her desire to keep the woman for the following year, stating, "I like her much and would endeavour to do well by her."  No mention is made of Delila's children.  Elisa also makes it clear that Grant should hear from "Delila herself if she were willing to come" to a new household [that of James and Elisa Grant] and hopes Delila can be "induced to come."  This does show that Delila might have had some say in her disposition or may indicate a fairly forceful personality in asserting her own wishes in these matters.

     Elisa also thanks her brother-in-law Lemuel for not charging her for Delila's services. (14)  Urban slave owners like Grant often hired out certain skilled slaves and received payments for their work.  If so, the slave provided a cash income, free labor for the owner when "at home," and, in the case of females, money from the sale of her children.  We have seen how Johnson had done the latter in Delila's case when he asked $200 for her two year old.

     Other letters between L. P. Grant, Elisa and Alexander Johnson show that Delila was suffering from serious pain in her legs.  She was examined by a local doctor (Tebbits?), who concluded that she had "Varix" or enlarged veins leading to abscesses which could recur even after the original abscesses had healed.

     At about the same time that Grant is hearing from this doctor about his new slave's painful illness, Alexander Johnson wrote discussing the health issue as it pertained to the sale warranty.  Johnson claims that Delila did indeed suffer from "varicose veins" in her feet and ankles but only when she was in the "last stages of Pregnancy."  Johnson cites a certain "Dr. Calhoun" who said that this was normal for pregnant women and would resolve itself once the child was born.  Johnson also says that this would not make her "unsound" and thus he had not mentioned it in his sale agreement.

     This was the last letter from Johnson in the Grant papers and was dated December 15, 1855.  Posted in Decatur, it shows that Johnson had still not moved west.  In it, he assures Grant that he will "take her back" if Grant is unsatisfied with Delila.  He ends by saying again that she would not be considered "unsound . . . .  If she is in the condition I think she is . . . ," i.e. pregnant. (15)

     With this document, Delila does indeed disappear from history and readers are left with a mystery as to her fate.  We are also left with the depressing knowledge that this woman, born into slavery, was dehumanized in almost all possible ways.  Despite avowals by Johnson, L. P. Grant and Elisa Grant that Delila's own views or opinions were being considered, it is evident that she was actually on a level barely above that of a valuable piece of livestock, whatever protests she might have made.  This is particularly seen with the use of the word "unsound," a term usually applied to animals in modern days and probably in the 19th century as well.  In the 1850s, slaves and livestock were similar pieces of property.

Drawing of L. P. Grant's new home in 1855 Atlanta.  This may have become Delila's home following her sale.  It is in the AHC Archives collections and was drawn by architect Calvin Fay.  Only the first floor remains and is the headquarters of the Atlanta Preservation Center.

     There are some vague clues as to Delila's future life.  The 1860 census shows that Grant owned a female slave aged 25 in Atlanta. (16)  Since Alexander Johnson had owned a 15 year old slave woman in 1850, it is possible that Grant kept Delila, even with her "unsoundness," and did not return her to Johnson or Elisa Grant.  She may well be the 25 year old slave woman living at Grant's home in, what is now, Grant Park in 1860.  If so, Delila probably lived in Atlanta or Georgia through the Civil War, perhaps witnessing and surviving those roughest of times in late 1864 when the city fell to Union forces and the population was forced to evacuate.  She might have looked like the African American woman with the basket on her head in the 1864 print seen above.  Unfortunately, that will remain unknown and an examination of Atlanta City Directories for the post Civil War years lists no one named Delila Johnson or Delila Grant, presuming she might have taken the name of one of her previous owners.

     Essentially, Delila recedes entirely from view once she becomes a free woman.  We can only hope she found happiness in her freedom, and that she prospered.  Perhaps she re-united with her children, her brother Dave, or other friends and relatives in Decatur.  Perhaps her descendents even now enjoy the freedom of life around the "new" 1897 courthouse in Decatur.  Whatever her fate, via the letters of the Grant papers and her own persistence in making her wishes known to her owners, Delila remains a living presence and helps all of us in the 21st century understand one of the darkest aspects of our shared history as Georgians and Southerners.

Richard Dees Funderburke, November 2012.

_________________

My personal thanks go to an excellent proofreader Sue Shaddeau, who greatly enhanced this article.  I also want to thank the wonderful archivists at the Atlanta History Center for their help, especially Sue Ver Hoef and Staci Catron.  I remain solely responsible for the content of the article.

(1)  George White, Statistics of the State of Georgia (Savannah:  W. Thorne Williams, 1849), p. 204 (Hereafter cited as White, Statistics).  In 21st century dollars, this would be about $375,000.

(2)  Vivian Price, The History of DeKalb County, Ga., 1822-1900 (Fernandina Beach, Fla.:  Wolfe Publishing Co., 1997), p. 291 (Hereafter cited as "Price").

(3)  Price, p. 292; White, Statistics, p. 204; George White, Historical Collections of Georgia (New York:  Pudney & Russell Publishers, 1855), p. 14 of the "Index to Tables."  There were only 116 male slaves in town which reflects the non-agricultural nature of the "urban" slave population with many female house servants.

(4)  Price, pp. 230, 233, 293 (In 1844, he was shown as a member of Decatur's Pythagoras Lodge # 41 of the Masons, see Price, p. 239); Franklin Garrett, Atlanta and Environs:  A Chronicle of Its People and Events (Athens:  UGA Press, 1954), Vol. I, pp. 267, 309, 340;  U.S. Census 1850 (available on Ancestry.com).

(5)  U.S. Census 1850, Slave Schedules.

(6)  Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (Decatur, Sept. 27, 1853), Mss 100, Lemuel Grant Papers, Atlanta History Center (AHC) Archives, Box 4, Folder 8.  In a later letter of March 20, 1855 (see full citation below), we learn that "Dave," Delila's brother, belongs to Grant already.

(7)  The U.S. Census of 1850 shows Johnson as 35 years old, thus making him 40 in 1855.

(8)  Thomas Martin, Atlanta and Its Builders (Century Memorial Publishing Co., 1902), pp. 655-657;  U.S. Census 1860, Slave Schedule.

(9)  Abstract of Title -- Land Lot # 245 & # 246, Dist. 15th, "Swanton Property,"  DeKalb Historical Society Archives, Box T7513.

(10)  Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (Decatur, March 30, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5,
Folder 1.

(11)  Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (Decatur, March 24, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5, Folder 1; Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (Dallas, Ga., May 7, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5, Folder 3.

(12)  Jeanette H. Austin, DeKalb County, Georgia, Probate Records, Book B, 1852-1858 ( Westminster, Md.:  Willow Bend Books, 2001), pp. 170-171.

(13)  Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (Dallas, Ga., May 7, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5,
 Folder 3.

(14)  Elisa Grant to L. P. Grant (Nicajack [sic], December 23, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5, Folder 7.

(15)  Mr. Tebbits (sp?) to L. P. Grant (December 16, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5, Folder 7; Alexander Johnson to Mr. Grant (December 15, 1855), Mss 100, AHC Archives, Box 5, Folder.

(16)  U.S. Census 1860, Slave Schedule.

Sin City on the Hooch -- Atlanta in the Late Victorian Age

Atlanta was known for depravity from its very beginning.  It was a rough railroad and industrial town in antebellum days and the Civil War years with their increased flow of male transients and unattached workers did little to improve that image.  Prosperity and a soberly conservative middle class may have both developed in the latter decades of the nineteenth century but decadence remained a hallmark of the city.

With its ever increasing network of railroads, great fairs and expositions in 1881, 1887 and 1895, often raucous legislative sessions as the state capital after 1868, and a reputation as the southeast's foremost entertainment Mecca, people of all kinds and both races descended on the Gate City of the South seeking fun and a large dose of debauchery.  Not surprisingly, where a need existed and there was money to be made, plenty of enterprising men and women arose to satisfy a huge public demand for liquor, cheap playhouses, drugs and sex.  Although these products and services could be found at various city locales, the epicenter of vice in turn-of-the-century Atlanta was the intersection of Collins and Decatur streets, just steps from the Union Passenger Depot and the elegant salons and ballrooms of the city's leading hotels.  This area was so notorious that the respectable citizens on the northern blocks of Collins St. successfully lobbied to have the street name changed to Courtland in 1886. (1)

Householders on the newly named Courtland shuddered at the thought of once having to say that they lived on Collins St., so well known for its vice industries, especially its houses of prostitution.  The tiny section just south of Decatur St. kept its disreputable name and associations.  The street's name came from James D. Collins, one of Atlanta's leading citizens and major property holder on his namesake avenue.  Collins served as a Fulton County Commissioner as well as president of the Atlanta Exchange and Banking Co. and vice-president of the Collins Brick Co.  Another prominent Atlantan named J. Perry Chisolm also owned houses on Collins, almost all of which were bordellos. (2)

As the city's elite and upper middle class built their homes northward along Peachtree [James Collins lived at 296 Peachtree] Street, Courtland and other roads in that area, the entrepreneurs of vice remained on Decatur and Collins streets.  Even when, in 1893, the city relocated its police department and jail to a massive new facility on Decatur Street, there was little change in the adjacent "tenderloin" district surrounding it.  Between 1892 and 1899, the number of "madames" listed in city directories for the tiny block-long Collins increased from six to nine [one of these was actually on the first block of Courtland].  In 1899, clustered between #'s 3 through 23 on Collins were madames Josie Lovell, Willie Burton, Fannie Price, Madge Burdette, M. Davidson, Nettie McKinley, Blanche Wentworth and Annie Morgan.  Just across Decatur on Courtland Ave. was Madame M. Johnson.  By 1908, the number had increased to ten -- a very crowded little block. (3)

Although these women were the top dealers in flesh with their "girls" securely ensconced in houses, many prostitutes undoubtedly worked the streets and alleys around the area.  There were also large numbers of "single women" along Decatur Street who operated small businesses as dressmakers and lunchroom owners. (4)  It was generally implied that these women offered more than their skills with a needle or an iron skillet which may have been a case of guilt by geographical association.  Arrests records for the 1890s help flesh out the story.  For 1892, the police department reported 79 arrests for individuals "keeping a house of ill fame" along with 16 for "immoral conduct," 25 for "public indecency," and 13 for being a "lewd woman on the streets."  The increase in several of those categories was significant by the 1899 report.  In that year, there were 129 arrests for those "keeping a house of ill fame" and 53 for being a "lewd woman on the streets." (5)  The actual locations for these arrests are not give in the raw, composite numbers reported but the widely known activities around the Decatur and Collins streets intersection leave little room for doubt that many, if not most, were here, just steps outside the doors of the new police department.

As the Victorian Age was drawing to a close in the first decade of the twentieth century and as prohibition seemed more and more likely for Atlanta [it arrived on Jan. 1, 1908], ten "single women" were listed as residents of Collins Street in 1906, two of these being Madge Burdette  at # 21 Collins and Lillian Jacobs.  Sadly the city directory for that year no longer specified these "single women" as "madames," but Burdette and Jacobs had already claimed that title in previous directories.  There was one African-American woman in 1906 named Millie Edwards as well but she might have been a servant rather than a madame.  The 1907 and 1908 directories did list the "madames" and there were ten on Collins Street for both years.  Curiously, the names of these women varied greatly from year to year during these decades which indicates a fairly high turnover with a few constants like the Burtons and Burdette.  (6)

Before jumping to the conclusion, however, that these unattached women with some kind of business along both Decatur and Collins were innocent of vice, it is important to see the true nature of their surroundings.  While there were elegant saloons for the upper crust just next door at the Kimball House Hotel, the city's worst dives, bucket shops and barrooms surrounded the police department at 171-179 Decatur Street.  In a photograph from that era, a saloon is clearly seen directly adjacent.  In 1895, 26 saloons are listed in the

i

Atlanta Police Dept., circa 1895

immediate area.  By 1905 and 1906, this number had jumped to 39 and 38 respectively. Twelve of Atlanta's sixteen pawn shops were also on Decatur. (7)  While saloons were in other areas as well, Atlanta's finest needed only to walk a block or two from their jail doorway to find people to arrest.  In 1892 just before the new headquarters opened, there were 6,554 arrests for being drunk and/or disorderly on the streets.  Six years later with the new headquarters in full operation, the number was 9,407. (8)

Other possible sources for data on vice are public medical reports for the era.  They are only marginally helpful but do give some insights into what must have been a huge problem with alcohol and drugs like opium, morphine and papine.  It was reported in 1907 that opium dens were not unknown in Atlanta.  The Board of Health data only showed three deaths from "alcoholism" for 1893 and only four in 1900.  However, Grady Hospital stated that it treated 24 for "acute or chronic alcoholism" in the latter year.  There were also other addictions for Atlantans to pursue in these years.  City statistics for 1893 and 1900 show ten and 3 deaths respectively from morphine and opium.  Grady treated 15 patients for various forms of non-alcoholic addiction as the twentieth century dawned. (9)

It is doubtful that most addicts received any treatment at all and thus went unreported in any way.  While some obviously were treated at the public hospital which was just one block north of the plentiful saloons and probable "opium dens" of Decatur Street, those persons with money sought cures elsewhere.  Between 1899 and 1905, the number of private sanatoriums discernibly devoted to opium and "whiskey" cures doubled from two to four. (10)   Few of the denizens of Decatur Street's "palaces of sin," however, could afford treatment of any kind and probably died miserable [and unreported] deaths in an age completely devoid of a public safety net.

Even prohibition seems to have failed to blight the vice on Decatur Street.  In a 1909 city council debate over changing the street's name, one councilman said the street was still full of "low near-beer dives," squalid hovels, and "foul fish stalls whose filthy stench is an offense against high heaven . . . ."  Furthermore, Decatur Street was an "eyesore, an unclean and leprous spot upon the face of our fair city . . . ."  (11)  This was more than a year after the advent of prohibition when a low alcoholic "near beer" was still allowed.

One final and very interesting aspect of Atlanta's vice business in the last decades of the Victorian Age centers on race.  In a time when segregation was entering its strictest period, Decatur Street appears to have been very fluid racially.  City directories like that of 1899 show a mixture of white and black women, for instance, as having small businesses in the area. (12)  Also, it is clear from newspaper reports that the blocks surrounding the police headquarters attracted many out-of-town visitors [and surely just as many locals] to its revelries.  According to Franklin Garrett, this had been the case since the 1880s.  An 1896 newspaper article reported that huge crowds of African-Americans descended on Decatur Street for the Fourth of July.  "All early morning trains were well filled with a throng of blacks from different towns about Atlanta," including Griffin, West Point, Marietta, Rome, Macon and Jonesboro.   They "hung about the carshed" [Union Passenger Depot] and feasted on watermelon and "red lemonade" [apparently a cheap alcoholic brew] at "improvised booths" there and along Decatur Street, where "Decatur Street whiskey was as plentiful as water."  The entire police force was kept on duty and at least 80 arrests were made. (13)  Although the Collins Street madames were white, this part of town was clearly one which invited both races to celebrate and party in an atmosphere where race was not so stratified.  For those who might want to escape the highly repressive racial separation of the age, this area of Atlanta obviously provided a welcome safety valve.

Economic factors also were important.  Through licensing fees, taxes, arrest fines, revenues from "vice tourism" like the African-Americans celebrating the Fourth, rental income for buildings, and probably kickbacks and protection money from those illegal "keepers of houses of ill fame" and similar businesses, the city and its elites surely made a lot of money.  When a huge fire destroyed the Markham House Block and its backdoor neighbor, Belle Burton's bordello at # 4 Collins Street and several similar houses nearby, in 1896, a clean-up was suggested.  It was surmised that "Lights From Many Prominent Palaces of Sin May Cease To Twinkle In The Thoroughfare" [Collins Street, that is].  Perry Chisolm and James Collins both said that they might sell their properties but Chisolm hastily added, "It may be, however, that I will be compelled to rebuild houses to be occupied by tenants like those who occupied the old buildings.  It would be impossible to use it for anything else unless the character of the whole street is changed by the removal of the present occupants to some other locality." (14)  As already shown above by the 1899 statistics on the number of bordellos along Collins Street [nine were operating on the block in 1899], the self-policing efforts suggested by the wealthy property owners were either a sham or impossible to fulfill.

By the second decade of the twentieth century, however, other factors were impacting the dens of iniquity in this part of town.  Prohibition and the politics of progressivism aimed, in part at least, at "cleaning up" cities had a dramatic effect on Decatur and Collins streets.  Naturally, all the saloons and other purveyors of alcohol had disappeared in 1908.  The madames remained for a while but historian Harvey Newman states that all the "girls" and their managers had left town by 1913. (15)  The final blow came in 1912 with a new police chief James Beavers and with a report by a formal Vice Commission for the City of Atlanta which condemned the city's "houses of assignation" and urged their repression.  The report concluded that prostitutes were often driven or enticed into "white slavery" by financial need as well as by evil men and women [the madames] in the business.  Perhaps surprisingly for the time, the report deplored the double standard whereby the women were brought down to a "life of shame" and are destroyed while the men who use them "escape" punishment.  "It is not just and this type of man should be severely punished," the authors stated.  Chief Beavers took such reports to heart and inaugurated massive arrests and raids to end prostitution, starting with arrest sweeps of all male and female "loiterers" on late night streets. (16)

Of course, prostitution and other forms of vice did not suddenly disappear from Atlanta.  They did seem to leave Decatur and Collins streets and became less visible or underground.  The madames can no longer be found in city directories, including such well-known ones as Belle Burton and Madge Burdette.  Most probably moved out of town.  At least one madame named Nellie Busbee on Magnolia Street [just off Marietta near Five Points] committed suicide by "thrusting a dagger through her heart," leaving a note blaming Chief Beavers whom she told to "go to hell" since he had closed her "resort" and "there was nothing left for her in life."  There was another report in 1912 that Atlanta's prostitutes were moving to Savannah, Macon, Memphis, New Orleans and other cities. (17)

Both Decatur and Collins streets remain today.  The intersection lies at the heart of the burgeoning Georgia State University with the South Tower of the library replacing the haunts and houses of Victorian Atlanta's famous "mistresses of illicit sex."  Belle and Willie Burton, Madge Burnette, Fannie Price, Lillian Jacobs and the other madames were successful businesswomen but they have largely vanished from city histories despite their notoriety in those last decades of the Victorian Age.  

Richard Dees Funderburke, Phd.    Decatur, Georgia

__________

(1)  Franklin Garrett, Atlanta and Environs, Vol. II, p. 127.

(2)  Atlanta City Directory 1896 (hereafter ACD), pp. 576 and 560; "Collins Street May Go Dark," Atlanta Journal (hereafter AJ), 5/21/1896, 3.

(3)  ACD 1892, p. 155; ACD 1895, pp. 487 and 161; ACD 1899, p. 154 and p. 115; ACD 1907, p.145; ACD 1908, p. 71.  The cast of madames in 1907 included long time residents Madge Burdette and Lilly Jacobs along with Helen Bertram, Lula Bell, Belle Summers, Gertrude Cartwright, Viola Mayfield, Mamie Leroy, and Effie Dudley.  These were just the managers/owners so there was probably a substantial number of workers in the houses on the block as well.

(4)  ACD 1899, p. 1372.

(5)  Annual Reports, City of Atlanta, Report of the Police Dept. (hereafter Annual Reports), pp. 571-577;
Annual Reports 1898 (Atlanta 1899), pp. 344-345.  It should be noted that corresponding arrests for "being with a lewd woman on the streets" were only 3 and 12 respectively.

(6)  ACD 1906, pp. 145-146; ACD 1907, p. 145; ACD 1908, p 71.

(7)  ACD 1895, pp. 1336-1337; ACD 1905, pp. 1283-1285; ACD 1906, p. 1440; ACD 1907, p 1511.

(8)  Annual Reports 1892, p. 577;  Annual Reports 1898, p. 345.

(9)  Harvey Newman, "Decatur Street, Atlanta's African-American Paradise Lost," Atlanta History (Vol. XLIV # 2), Summer 2000, p. 9; Annual Reports 1893, pp. 520-533; Annual Reports 1900, pp. 320-323; Report of the Grady Hospital in the Annual Reports 1893, p. 361.

(10)  ACD 1899, p. 1358; ACD 1905, p. 1273.

(11)  Garrett, Atlanta and Environs, Vol. II, p. 574.

(12)  ACD 1899, p. 1372; Newman, "Decatur Street . . .," pp. 8-9.

(13)  Garrett, Atlanta and Environs, Vol. II, p. 127; "Day of Glory Was the Fourth," Atlanta Constitution (hereafter AC), 7/5/1896, p. 17.

(14)  "Collins Street May Go Dark," AJ, 5/21/1896, p. 3.

(15)  ACD's, 1908-1913; Newman, "Decatur Street . . .," p. 9.

(16)  "Moral Clean-Up Urged For City," AC, 10/8/1912, p. 5; "Vice Crusade Turned On Street Loiterers," AJ, 10/3/1912, p. 7; Garrett, Atlanta and Environs, Vol. II, p. 574.

(17)   "Savannah May Abolish Vice," AC, 10/8/1912, p 7; Newman, "Decatur Street . . . ," p. 9; "Resort Keeper Takes Her Life," AC, 9/24/1912, p. 9.

Shopping on Whitehall -- Victorian Atlanta's Great Shopping "Mall"

Whitehall Street [now S. Peachtree] was the great shopping "mall" in late Victorian Atlanta. Running south from Five Points, it contained many of the city's best retail establishments and was nearly always filled with shoppers. In the 1890s, merchants vied with each other to create eye-catching stores to entice customers and to best their competitors.

Many of these merchants were from Atlanta's small Jewish community like the Rich family, the Eiseman brothers, J. Regenstein, Simon & Frohsin, A. Rosenfeld & Son, and the Hirsch brothers, Morris, Henry and Joseph. (1) In 1890, the Hirsches announced the construction of a new double store building designed by a leading architect, G. L. Norrman. Located at #40 Whitehall, the store would rise five stories and be in the latest Romanesque style.

The architect was a well-known figure among the city's "German Jews." Just a few years earlier, he had created the stunning Hebrew Orphans Home on Washington Street in an elaborate mixture of Middle Eastern motifs, including horseshoe arches and a minaret-like tower. He had also designed homes or business buildings for many individual Jewish Atlantans as well. (2)

The Hirsch brothers were more than just clothing merchants. They were actively involved in the Jewish community and in Atlanta at large. Joseph Hirsch would serve as both a city councilman and alderman. He was one of the founders of the Hebrew Orphanage and served as chairman of the board of trustees of Grady Hospital, guiding the construction of the original hospital building. (3)

 The Hirsch retail building soared above its two and three story neighbors and included a cornice and tall parapet above the five stories. Built of brick and iron, it was described as "stately," having an "elegance in proportion and outside adornment," "exceedingly handsome," and a "model store" both inside and out. The builder called it "palatial" and the owners were so pleased that they used drawings of the new building in their advertisements. (4)

 It was certainly a beautiful structure in the latest architectural style. Great double Romanesque arches defined the two stores, soaring upward for four of the stories. Each floor facing Whitehall was filled with masses of plate glass windows to bring as much natural light into the building as possible. The fifth floor was restrained in comparison but contained seven round arch windows beneath the decorative cornice and tall, flat front parapet roof line. Running between the two great arches for four floors was a narrow, vertical bay containing a doorway at ground level and then a distinct window at each upper level. These were all surrounded by unique moldings, pilasters, and varying pediments [including flat, broken and triangular]. The matching, deep set grand arches which comprised the vast majority of the facade were also architecturally distinguished on each floor. Double, recessed doorways at the ground level had large projecting display windows on each side. The second floor featured projecting bay windows while the third and fourth floors sported balconies in different designs. Overall, there was a great variety of decorative elements but they were held firmly together within a highly symmetrical and restrained framework which added dignity and a strong sense of unity. (5)

The cost in 1890 was between $40,000 and $45,000. (6) This would be between $850,000 and $957,000 in modern dollars. The building would serve the Hirsch Brothers and J. Regenstein [mainly a woman's clothing store] for many decades. It is, of course, long since demolished.

 _______________

(1) Atlanta City Directory 1892, pp. 338-341. Major gentile-owned stores were on Whitehall too, including Keely's, J. M. High and the Chamberlin-Johnson Co. The Silvey and Moore-Marsh department stores were located on nearby Decatur Street.

(2) Richard Funderburke, G. L. Norrman: New South Architect and the Urbanization of Atlanta, 1881-1909. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Pp. 167-171, 491, 492, 495, 497.

(3) Historic Site Designation Report for Grady Memorial Hospital, City of Atlanta Urban Design Commission, www.atlantaga.gov.

 (4) "They Have Moved," Atlanta Journal (AJ), 9/26/1890, p. 7. "The Hirsch Building," Atlanta Constitution (AC), 3/23/1890; Advertisement for Hirsch Bros., AC, 9/28/1890; "Building Homes," AJ, 9/20/1890, p. 2.

(5) See illustrations from the AC, 3/23/1890 and "Atlanta of To-Day, 1903, Souvenir" pamphlet in the holdings of the Atlanta History Center archives.

(6) "How Atlanta Grows," AJ, 3/25/1890.

Private Schools in 1892 Atlanta. A Brief Contrast in Architecture

Although Atlanta had a public school system in 1892 there were many private schools and colleges available also. Two of these were the Washington Seminary for girls and the Gordon School for boys. They present an interesting contrast in architectural styles. The Washington Seminary is a lovely building in the older [and much out of style by 1892] Italianate with its hood molds, paired brackets under the cornice and the turned porch posts. Meanwhile, the brand new Gordon School by Gardner, Pyne and Gardner is a wonderful study in urban Romanesque styling with its symphony of round arches. Romanesque design was a legacy of the great H. H. Richardson but was soon to be superseded in popularity by Beaux Arts classicism -- a sad decline in styles in my opinion. The Gordon School also features a signature little corner turret which was very popular during this time period in Atlanta after the construction of the New Kimball House in the mid-1880s. Images are from the Atlanta City Directory for 1892.

Battle Hill Church by Leila Ross Wilburn

A 1912 view of an Atlanta church designed by the young Leila Ross Wilburn, Atlanta's second female architect [Henrietta (Hank) Dozier was the first].  Wilburn was just starting out at this time and would have a long career lasting into the 1960s.  As far as I know, this is the only church attributed to her.  This lovely little granite building was on Gordon Ave. just past Westview Cemetery in West End.  Not sure when it was demolished?  Image from the March 2, 1912 Atlanta Journal.

Lost Atlanta -- John Silvey's Great Mercantile House

On the eve of the Great Depression of 1893, there was no real hint of the economic chaos to come. Architects and wealthy Atlantans were building bigger and better homes, businesses, factories, schools and churches. One of the most significant new buildings was the one for John Silvey on Decatur Street designed by Godfrey Norrman.

John Silvey had been in Atlanta since 1847 with the exception of several years in the gold fields of California. All his life, even on the west coast, had been spent in the retail trade. By the 1880s, he was one of Atlanta's top fifteen wealthiest individuals and a founder, along with Norrman, of the Atlanta Musical Association. By 1892 he had decided to construct a new high-rise tower to house his dry goods emporium. The Silvey Building cost a whopping $75,000 and was the tallest building in Atlanta for some years, exceeding the height of the new Equitable Building by six feet on its Decatur Street frontage. (1)

With matching fronts on both Decatur Street and Edgewood Avenue, the nine story structure had a steel frame, two electric elevators to whisk shoppers to the various departments, iron window frames, a flat asphalt roof, and exterior walls of granite, brick and terracotta. By the summer of 1893, crowds turned out to marvel at the new high-rise as the granite blocks were fitted to the walls. The striking cream color store was sheathed in Georgia granite and buff, Roman [long, narrow] brick. Terracotta matching the brick filled the spandrels between the vertically grouped windows on the third through the sixth floors, which were accented by ogee arches. The latter gave the building a French Renaissance feel, while the narrow openings and corbeled cornice of the upper floors looked almost medieval in their severity. The first floor contained heavy piers of rusticated granite. (2)

With its light coloring and strong verticality, the Silvey Building formed a striking contrast to its neighbors of dark red brick and horizontal lines. It was also highly unusual for its extensive use of Roman Brick, described in one report as the only use of such building material south of Baltimore. Norrman was so pleased with his work here that he submitted his design for publication in the national journal, American Architect and Building News, and used it as an example of his best works for his application to be a member of the American Institute of Architects. (3)

The Silvey Building was demolished in the 1930s.

(1) "Mr. John Silvey," Atlanta Constitution [AC], 5/14/1893, 14; "Organized
Music," AC, 11/15/1885, 8; "Building Notes," Manufacturers Record, 3/31/1893, 173; AC, 9/15/1895, 33; "It Will Cost $75,000," Atlanta Journal, 3/15/1893, 4.

(2) Advertisement for the Silvey Company, AC, 11/29/1904, 8; "Who Will Get It," AC, 6/20/1893, 3; Elizabeth Lyon, Business Buildings In Atlanta: A Study in Urban Growth and Form, unpublished doctoral dissertation at Emory University, 1971, 275.

(3) "Illustrations," American Architect and Building News, Vol. XLI # 925 (9/16/1893), 174 [source of the above illustration]; Norrman's application to join the AIA located in the archives of the AIA and a copy in the possession of the author.