Author's Posts

According to the late Ray Stahl’s book, A Beacon to Health Care, Johnson City’s first hospital opened in 1903 when the National Home for Disabled Soldiers became a reality. Four years later, Dr. W.J. Matthews opened a modest clinic on the first floor of the Carlisle Hotel (Franklin Apartments) at E. Main and Division streets. Then in 1911, six doctors launched Memorial Hospital, a small 10-bed facility at 712 Second Street (Myrtle Avenue).  

With that said, a September 1915 edition of the Johnson City Staff newspaper contained an editorial from someone identified only as JOL, bemoaning the fact that Johnson City did not have a public hospital. Why did Mr. L say the city needed a hospital that year if Memorial Hospital was still in operation? 

The editorial writer began his note saying, “I have been extremely interested in the new hospital movement since I had the pleasure of reading several articles by prominent local citizens in your good paper recently that I personally feel that too much cannot be said in behalf of this very much-needed institution.”

JOL noted that local doctors in 1915 were not wealthy enough to establish a private hospital or even collectively support one. To administer care beyond their capabilities, a patient had to be referred to a hospital in another city. That often meant traveling long distances over rough roads and incurring expensive medical bills. Local doctors were strapped for lack of modern equipment, medical support and hygienic facilities.

Emergencies were another matter. With time being of essence, local doctors frequently took extraordinary measures to save lives and provide relief for their patients. To ease the burden on the doctors, the writer felt that Johnson City deserved a modern hospital. The need became even more critical after automobile and railway traffic significantly increased. Also, industry growth bringing with it new and sometimes hazardous occupations necessitated a quality medical center. 

On the financial side, few hospitals were moneymaking institutions with practically all of them being supported through endowments and subscriptions. Local doctors made it abundantly clear that they did not expect to use the hospital for moneymaking purposes. It was to be an institution for the care of patients. They reasoned that with a new hospital, they could refer people needing medical attention to it rather than sending them outside the city, thereby saving them time, money and possibly their lives.

The new hospital movement required modern facilities with an X-ray machine, a thoroughly equipped and sterile operating room, an ambulance and congenial surroundings. Charity patients would not be turned away; the hospital would be open to everyone, rich or poor.

JOL concluded his editorial with a challenge: “Every good citizen should manifest some interest in this very worthy institution.”  

New Appalachian Hospital at Seventh (Chilhowie) Avenue

Apparently the overly crowded and inadequate Memorial Hospital in 1915 did not meet the standards of a “new hospital movement,” prompting JOL’s editorial. Five businessmen quickly remedied the situation when they purchased Cy Lyle’s (The Comet newspaper’s editor/publisher) 2-story, 16-room brick house at 809 Seventh (Chilhowie) Avenue for the new Appalachian Hospital. The group previously secured a charter that granted them “the right to organize, equip, own and operate a hospital and sanitarium.”

The facility opened to an appreciative public that likely included Mr. JOL. From that modest medical beginning of yesteryear emerged today’s impressive Johnson City Medical Center. … and the beat goes on. 

Read more

“I am in love with Johnson City,” proclaimed George Buda during an interview at his and Wanda’s “tree streets” neighborhood home. For the next two hours, George tirelessly unleashed a barrage of favorite memories beginning with his family. John and Ethel Buda, George’s parents, came to America from Albania prior to 1920 before migrating to Johnson City that year.  

Top: The Busy Bee Restaurant. John Buda is on the left and his brother, Charles, is on the right. Bottom: The New York Restaurant. Insert: George Buda. Both photos are from the 1920s

John and his brother, Charles, initially went to work for Mike Dimma at his Busy Bee Restaurant located at 119-21 Fountain Square. Painted on the store window were the words: “For Ladies and Gentlemen, Dinner 25 Cents, Quick Lunch.” A small sign along the left side of the window advertised “Fresh Pies.”

In 1922, John opened his own restaurant, the New York Café, at 209 Buffalo Street near Wilson Avenue. Charles also worked there. The business was located on the ground floor and the family lived upstairs. George fondly recalled the view from an upstairs window: “We could look out and watch the ET&WNC train, known as “Tweetsie,” pass by. We also saw trains traveling to and from the old CC&O Depot.”

John managed the business for almost 20 years. Around 1939, he sold it to Jim Kalogeros when the Buda family moved to Miami to assist John’s brother in a restaurant venture. They returned to the city near the end of the war because, according to George, “There were German boats out in the waters off Miami Shores and our family decided to head back to the Tennessee hills.” They initially rented a room at the Colonial Hotel on E. Market until they secured lodging at the Gardner Apartments at 319-21 W. Watauga.

George remembered a black semi-pro football team in the 1940s known as the Atomic Smashers that practiced on an empty lot along W. Watauga. It was once the site of the historic Brush Creek Campground. One of the quarterbacks was named Columbus “Ted” Hartsall. The team wore special uniforms and traveled by bus to compete in cities extending from Roanoke, Virginia to Chattanooga, Tennessee. A man named “Smitty” was their sponsor. George often walked over to Jackson Street to watch the team practice.

George commented on the Yon Leong Laundry that was located at 106 E. Market in the early 1940s. This was a “hand laundry,” meaning that soaking, scrubbing, and ironing were done manually. George remembers seeing steam coming through its doors. George Leong, their son, played football at Science Hill High School, graduated from ETSU and became a teacher and football coach at Boones Creek High School. 

In 1949, John Buda opened an eatery in a “hole in the wall” building at 105 Buffalo. It was sandwiched (no pun intended) between two large buildings, one having the date “1888” inscribed above it. The previous owner was Gregori G. Horro who operated it as “George’s Chili & Sandwich Shop.” It was strictly carryout; in fact, the room would barely accommodate two large persons or three small ones. John’s Sandwich Shop soon opened for business to an appreciative public.

Three tasty culinary delights – hamburgers (25 cents), hot dogs (10 cents) and hot tamales (15 cents) – kept John’s Sandwich Shop patrons returning for an encore. The refrigerator was so small that they bought fresh ground beef from Sells Produce twice daily on weekdays and three times on Saturday. John’s classic hot dogs were simple to make, but their taste put them in a class of their own.

Buda bought precooked hot tamales from Will Cope, a local vendor who delivered them to several downtown establishments from his Chilhowie residence. They were reheated and sold to eager customers waiting in line at John’s window. Buda purchased his buns from nearby Honey Crust Bakery with its alluring aroma of bread being cooked. John’s Sandwich Shop was in business 11 years, closing its doors around 1961.  

George played music at the John Sevier Hotel for numerous functions during his high school years: “When Warren Weddle came to town as band director, he had played in a jazz band in Chicago and helped us form a dance band at Science Hill. We were called the Blue Notes consisting of Buddy Beasley, Don Shannon, Phil West, Earl Guffey, Clarence Foxx, Gene Young and myself.  The John Sevier Hotel had a nice (mezzanine) rooftop area outside the main ballroom facing Roan Street.”

When the Blue Notes began attending East Tennessee State College, they changed their name to The Collegians and started playing music over an extended region of East Tennessee that included Erwin, Bristol, Kingsport and Greeneville. 

Another popular group in the area around 1948 was the Jerry King Band. Later, Charles Goodwin formed a band with Rudy Brinkley, Bob Yantz and Gene Young from Johnson City. The latter had a supporting role in the movie, “Coal Miners Daughter,” starring Sissie Spacek in the role of country music singer, Loretta Lynn.  

During 1953-55, George served in the Army, playing drums with a “Base Band” that performed for parades and officer dances. Later, he played locally with the Butch Swanay Quintette at the Frontier Club and local country clubs. He recalled seeing the Glenn Miller Band at the Big Burley Warehouse on Legion Street. The leader was saxophonist Tex Beneke who replaced the popular bandleader after his plane disappeared during World War II. George also played drums for Bonnie Lou and Buster on television.

George commented on the Music Mart where he worked for Henry and Mary Lou Frick from 1956 to 1959. The unassuming musician attributed his enjoyment of working there to the many wonderful people his job enabled him to meet. Henry was a former WJHL radio announcer who, along with ETSC Band Director Monty Butterfield, opened a music store downtown. At that time, Smythe Electric was about the only record store in town.

In the fall of 1960, George left the Music Mart and taught school at Fall Branch High School. He later became assistant band director to Warren Weddle, teaching at North Junior High and working with the SHHS band for eight years.

When an arsonist torched the Gardner Apartments in April 2009, George said a piece of his heart went up in smoke. Although the old L-shaped brick building is gone, pleasant memories abound. History lives on for future generations largely because of shared documentation from thoughtful individuals like George Buda. 

Read more

I enjoy walking the streets of downtown Johnson City when everything is relatively quiet and peaceful, allowing me to reflect on the thousands of stores, from pre-Henry Johnson days to the present, which were once open for business.

If the storefronts could talk about all their previous owners, they would say that many were highly successful, operating for years and often passing the torch to another generation family member. Countless others were short-timers who struggled and were forced to abandon their rainbow dreams in search of another pot of gold. 

Of particular interest to me are lesser-known establishments that vanished from the scene long ago. Case in point are three of my recent subjects: Lee Hotel (anonymous contributor), the Busy Bee Restaurant and New York Café (the latter two from George Buda).

Several months ago, Paul Gill sent me a photo of the Tip Top Restaurant that was dated May 1904. I was not familiar with it. Paul surmised that it was located somewhere in the vicinity of Fountain Square. I forwarded the picture to Brad Jolly who ran it on the history page asking readers if they knew anything about it. 

   

The man in the apron is storeowner, George R. Brown. Standing beside him on the right side is his wife, Sallie. Their son, Melvin, and daughter, Phoebe, are in front of them. The other men are unidentified. 

Recently, I received a letter from Jim Brown with further information about the former eatery: “My father was Melvin Earl Brown who lived all his life in Johnson City. My mother’s name was Lillie.  My dad worked 40 some years for Railway Express.  His father was George R. Brown (my grandfather) and he owned and operated the Tip Top Restaurant and boarding house, which opened in 1904. 

“After my oldest sister passed away in March, we received old pictures from as far back as the 1870s. The Tip Top Restaurant was in some of the first ones we received. Then came another envelope with more pictures, including a newspaper clipping from the Johnson City Press-Chronicle that mentions the restaurant.”

Although Jim’s newspaper clipping was undated and unidentified, I readily recognized it as a portion of a Tom Hodge column. In part it read: “M.E. Brown, whom I have known for years, popped into my office recently. Back in the days when I was going to Science Hill High School and did the public address system for Cardinal Park for Appalachian League games, I saw him every home game.

“At any rate, he came bearing an old photo for me to examine. The photo accompanies this column. The picture was made in May 1904 of the store his father ran at the corner of Tipton and Buffalo streets. That’s of particular interest since that building was recently torn down to make way for the new Downtown Loop.

“His father, G.R. Brown, is in the long apron. His mother stands next to her husband. The girl in front was his sister, Phoebe, and that’s M.E. Brown in front holding the newspapers. His father ran the store – restaurant – boarding house for (a few) years, closing it in 1908. Lodging was at the rate of 25 cents a night.

“The papers M.E. carried at that tender age of six were the Cincinnati Post, which he sold. You’ll note that the streets were unpaved and the sidewalks were of wood. It was not until later that I started wondering about the fresh oysters. Back in 1904, how did you get fresh oysters this far inland? I’ll have to ask Mr. Brown.”   

Excluding the Cardinal Park comments, two telltale verbal tracks in the article identified it as the late Tom Hodge. Mr. Brown “popped” in the newspaperman’s office. No one ever just entered his workplace; he or she “popped” in. Second, the photo “accompanied” his column. It was never added, appended or affixed. Such wording was standard fare for the man who made significant contributions to area history over many years. 

Thanks to the efforts of Paul, Jim and Tom, we now know something about the Tip Top Restaurant including its downtown location.

  

Read more

Today’s column is derived from correspondence I received from local residents, Patricia Crowder and Barbara Hobson, daughters of Wm. Roscoe “Ross” Grindstaff who served his country during World War I in France, Germany, Luxemburg and Belgium.

An unidentified soldier from William’s unit penned in beautiful cursive writing a short diary of their division’s travels. When William returned home after the conflict, he placed it in an old trunk in his attic. Years later, Ms. Hobson removed the fragile document, typed it and distributed copies of it to family members. She graciously sent me one. She told me that George Dugger of Elizabethton was in her father’s outfit.   

The following are excerpts from the 43 entries written between Oct. 1 and Dec. 18, 1919. The hardships of war are discreetly depicted, along with an occasional pleasurable occurrence such as an observation of the beautiful countryside. Numerous entries relate to heavy fighting, constant fatigue, incessant rain, cold weather and lingering homesickness:

“Our Last Fight. Co. D, 23 Inf., 2ndDiv.”

“Oct. 1 – Found us on the safe side of a big hill in foxholes. Here we had our last warm meal at dusk in the evening for several days to come. At 7:30 marched toward the front line. Reached there and begin digging in on No Man’s Land at eleven (big shell holes).

“Oct. 2 – New men rather excited, the big barrage on at 5:30 sharp. We are at the Dutchman, very few prisoners. The rifles are kept busy at fleeing Boche on open ground, comical sights watching new men shoot, three batteries captured (18 men and 1 sergeant). 

“Oct 3 – Full pack made up, ordered back to bed, called out again at nine and moved forward through the Marines.  Some excitement here, casualties.

“Oct 4 – Caisson captured and the fun begins, Boshe on all sides and we start cleaning out, 2 batteries, hundred prisoners, several machine guns, heavy artillery play on us all day, several causalities.

 “Oct 5 – Under heavy shell fire, some casualties here, we take no prisoners, too much trouble. Marines pass through again, also 2ndand 3rdBattalion.

“Oct 6 – Into No Man’s Land, line broke, lost, line connected again, very tired. I slept from 8 o’clock until daylight the next day.

Nov. 10 – The day was spent mostly playing cards. Their artillery did not get us spotted until the afternoon. We hear all kinds of reports about the Armistice and hope some are at least true.

Nov. 11 – The Armistice signed at 11:00 a.m.

Nov. 16-23 – (Marches to) Stenay, Montmedy, Ethe, Artour Fressen, Saeul, Musch and Heffingen.)

Nov. 24 – Some very nice (inhabitants), some don’t take (to) us very well. Not many Frenchmen here. And our Dutch is very poor. Heavy frosts every night, sleep in barns.

Nov 25 – Blue Monday, rain and sloppy weather, on short rations, two inspections, everything to make life miserable. No idea of moving, getting homesick.

Dec. 8 – Have been traveling down grade all day now going in the Rhine valley, very pretty country, many villages.

Dec. 15 – We followed the river down past an old moss covered castle ages old. Very pretty scenes.

Dec.18 – Drill in the morning. Rainy sloppy night.”

After returning home from the war, William drove an ambulance for Pouder Funeral Home and then a cab for Red J. Taxi Cab Company (located at the current site of the Trailways Bus Station). The family lived on Afton Street near Maple in Johnson City until Mr. Grindstaff went to work for American Bemberg Corporation and moved his family to a residence about a mile down Sinking Creek Road in Johnson City. 

Read more

Saturday, October 20, 1917 brought news of the death of General John Thomas Wilder, a prominent industrialist who lived in Johnson City between 1884 and 1892. It saddened residents all over the country, especially those in the State of Tennessee.

John T. Wilder As a Young Man

The noted soldier of the Civil War, pioneer in the iron industries of the Chattanooga district and one of the leading drivers of the commercial development of Tennessee, died that morning in Jacksonville, Florida where he went two years prior to spend the winter. His obituary indicated that he was 87 years old and for several years had been in failing health, but retained his devoted interest in the welfare of the Volunteer State. His wife, Dora Lee, four daughters and a son, survived him. He was returned to Chattanooga for burial in Forest Hills Cemetery.

Wilder was born in Hunter Villages, Greene County, New York on January 13, 1813. He served seven years as an apprentice in the iron businesses as a draughtsman, machinist, pattern maker and millwright.

The industrialist entered the war as a lieutenant-colonial in the Indiana Infantry, becoming a full colonial in 1862 and a brigadier general of volunteers two years later. His Civil War service was especially noteworthy in such battles as “Hoover’s Gap,” “Chickamauga” and “Chattanooga.” Ironically, he once shelled Chattanooga, the city that he would later call home.

After the war, Wilder settled in Rockwood, Tennessee, and later in Chattanooga. In 1867, he founded an ironworks in the Chattanooga region, then built and operated the first two blast furnaces in the South at Rockwood, Tennessee. In 1870, he established a company to manufacture rails for the railroads.

Wilder entered politics and was elected mayor of Chattanooga in 1871, but resigned a year later to pursue his business interests. He unsuccessfully ran for the United States Congress in 1876. In 1877, he accepted the position of city postmaster, serving until 1882.

In 1884, Wilder relocated to Johnson City and lived here until 1892. He helped promote and construct the Charleston, Cincinnati & Chicago (3Cs) Railroad. He also developed the booming industrial suburb of Carnegie along the east side of the city. He named it in honor of fellow industrialist, Andrew Carnegie, which included the lavish Carnegie Hotel at E. Fairview and Broadway and a host of iron making and railroad-related manufacturing facilities. Iron ore was brought to Johnson City via the East Tennessee and Western North Carolina Railroad (ET&WNC known as “Tweetsie”). Wilder constructed the popular 166-room Cloudland Hotel near the summit of Roan Mountain to serve tourists via the scenic narrow gauge railway line.

In 1887, the tycoon organized the Roan Iron Works and built and operated two blast furnaces at Rockwood, Tennessee. He became active in the mineral development of Tennessee.

In 1897, Wilder moved to Knoxville, Tennessee after receiving an appointment from President William McKinley as a Federal pension agent. Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft later granted reappoints. The general eventually became commissioner of the Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park.

General Wilder did more, perhaps, to develop the resources of Tennessee than any one man in the state. To him is due much credit, especially for the development of the iron resources of East Tennessee. In Chickamauga Park stands a magnificent monument erected as a fitting tribute to General Wilder’s “Iron Brigade.” 

Read more

A 1909 newspaper clipping speaks of a “serene section of East Tennessee lying beyond the Watauga River near the base of the loftiest mountains east of the Rockies.” The article states that no purer air or more lovely scenery could be found than the local region affords. It b ecame immortalized after Bob Taylor expressed it in his writing and speeches as “Happy Valley.”

At the entrance to the valley, about a mile from Senator Taylor’s birthplace and only a stone’s throw from the present home of Alf Taylor, his brother and political competitor, stood Milligan College. It was the Alma Mater of both Bob and Alf and scores of other men who achieved future prominence.

Milligan College Young Ladies Home 

Surrounded by a thick grove of maple trees, the old campus seemed to fit in naturally as an integral part of the landscape. Nature was observed here at its finest with Milligan College as its favorite shrine. According to the school’s early catalogue, Milligan was devoted to character building as its number one priority. No better place for such an institution could be found than in the healthy environment of Happy Valley.

Around the turn of the century, student enrollment was averaging from 175 to 250 students for the school year. In 1909, 213 students signed up for classes bringing expectations that the number could total 250 to 300 classmates by year-end. Immediate concerns were housing. A new brick dormitory, completed in 1908, became filled with students, prompting school officials to petition the board of trustees for more housing.

In 1881, the founding school, known as the Buffalo Male and Female Institute, was elevated to collegiate level through the efforts of Dr. Josephus Hopwood and renamed Milligan College after a favorite former teacher of his.

Prior to the Civil War, educational needs between the North and the South differed greatly. In the majority of the Northern States, social rank did not exist; settlers lived together in small farms clustered within a village. Each village eventually acquired a school.

In the South, the manner of living was substantially different. Each landowner had a sizable tract of land causing neighbors to be located miles apart. Often, it took one property-owner the better part of a day on horseback to reach the dwelling of another. Thus the country had no clustered towns like the North. There were many plantations stretched over a sparsely settled area of country. It was impossible for the South to have “town schools” as they were known in New England.

The Civil War did much to rearrange social conditions. The breaking up of the large plantations into many smaller homes, the freeing of slaves and passage of compulsory education laws created an efficient network of public schools. The natural noble pride of the South led to the establishment of a large number of private schools such as Milligan, many of which became phenomenally successful.

In. 1909, a general education law was passed that provided 25% of the gross state revenue to be devoted to the cause of education. Milligan was one of 19 state colleges that became recipients of proceeds:

University of Nashville (1785), The University of Tennessee (1794, Knoxville), Washington and Tusculum College (1794, Greenville), Maryville College (1819, Maryville), Cumberland University (1842, Lebanon), Burritt College (1848, Spencer), Hiwassee College (1849, Sweetwater), Bethel College (1850, Mackenzie), Carson and Newman College (1851, Jefferson City), Walden University (1866, Nashville), Fisk University (1866, Nashville), University of Chattanooga (1867, Chattanooga), University of the South (1868, Sewanee), King College (1869, Bristol), Christian Brothers College (1871, Memphis), Knoxville College (1875, Knoxville), Milligan College (1881, Milligan), Southwestern Presbyterian College (1885, Clarksville) and Lincoln Memorial University (1895, Cumberland Gap/ Harrogate). 

Read more

Davy Crockett’s tales – truthful, enhanced or fabricated – have perpetuated the antics of Tennessee’s colorful history maker. Brush aside the accumulated cobwebs of tall tales and he still emerges as a fascinating folk hero.

Many of us remember the thrilling “Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier” television era of the mid 1950s. We watched him on our small snowy TV sets as a brave, witty hero that was bigger than life because, after all, he killed a bear) when he was only three?

Crockett competed with such compelling figures as Andrew Jackson and Sam Houston who were also well-known fellow Tennesseans. He set the formula for humorous political campaigning, which Senator Alben Barkley and other colorful politicians eventually employed in their heyday.

While Crockett held Andrew Jackson as his hero in his early political life, he later fell out with “Old Hickory” and thereafter referred to him sarcastically as “The Hero.” Davy was equally gifted in handling himself in hunting affairs and in congressional debates. He once shouted: “Sirs, I do not consider it good sense to be sitting here passing laws for Andrew Jackson to laugh at; it is not even good nonsense.”

Perhaps the most fascinating of Crockett’s lore is the occasion that made him and the coonskin cap synonymous. It happened during Davy's first campaign for Congress when the mountain man was trudging from one crossroad to another stumping for votes. Voters welcomed the candidates because of the traditional treats expected and, according to Crockett, found political discussions very dry without refreshments. For understandable reasons, stumps in the vicinity of taverns attracted the largest crowds.

As Davy told it, he approached the tavern owned by a Yankee gentleman whose name was Job Snelling where a fair crowd of people had accumulated anxiously waiting for him. Crockett mounted the stump and spoke only briefly before his listeners’ tongues became parched and they demanded the traditional refreshment.

Davy led the crowd into the tavern completely aware that he did not have enough money in his buckskin jeans to cover the indulgence. He depended on receiving credit from Snelling until he learned that Snelling supported his opponent. After refusing to put the drinks on the cuff, the politician plunged into the woods where he spotted, took down and skinned a raccoon. Knowing that the skin was legal tender and the accepted exchange value was a quart of the beverage known as “panther juice,” Crockett returned to the tavern. He tossed the coonskin on the bar and commanded his quart. The reluctant tavern keeper was forced to comply with his request and Davy's potential voters quenched their thirst. Davy returned to the stomp and renewed his speech.

It wasn't long before the cry of indulgence once again interrupted the proceedings. Returning to the tavern, Crockett spied the tail of the coonskin sticking out between the logs of the crude bar. In Crockett’s words, “I touched the tail and it seemed to follow my hand.” Crockett slapped the skin on the bar and called for another quart of the brew. Unaware that he had been scammed, the tavern keeper complied again. In his autobiography, Crockett wrote that he successfully repeated the trick several times. The caper delighted his backwoods audience when they learned what had happened.

The story of the coonskin trick permeated the hills like wildfire, probably being embellished with each utterance. Crockett attributed his poll victory to the mirth the story caused. In later years, the remorseful frontiersman offered to pay Snelllng for the beverages, but the tavern keeper generously declined compensation. 

Read more

My aunt, Doris Anderson, gave me a cache of old letters dating between December 1911 and June 1949 that were written to her mother (my grandmother), Mrs. Neva Cox. They came from her husband, Earl; mother, Molly; and others. While much of the wording would be appropriate today, an occasional entry in the letters dates them (buying eggs for three cents each in 1915 and working for the American Cigar Box Lumber Company on Cherry Street for 33.3 cents/hr. in 1920).

Other interesting comments spoke of family members sharing magazines and newspapers with one another. A family would buy a copy, read it and pass it on to others. It was never casually discarded. One letter wanted to know if my grandmother knew who had the latest “Ladies’ Home Journal.” Two others mentioned the “Johnson City Staff-News” and “Happy Hours.” I located a February 1916 “Happy Hours” magazine that contained nine articles: The Editor’s Desk; Twisted Oaks; Eileen’s Housekeeping; The Spirit of the Day; Marion’s Fortune; Flowers – What to Plant and When to Plant Them; Home Helps; Popular and Old-Time Ballads; and Latest Paris and New York Fashions.

A small 24-page advertisement booklet titled, “Season of 1927-1928, Bargains in Magazines,” offered magazine subscriptions. A unique feature was the use of money-saving prices on “clubs” of leading magazines. For each item, two prices were offered – full price (one subscription) and club (reduced) price (more than one subscription). Three full pages contained 72 suggested “clubs,” each containing a list of from 5-15 magazines. In addition, subscribers could develop their own “clubs” from a catalog of 138 magazines located at the end of the booklet. Most prices were for one year, could be new or renewal and allowed shipping to different addresses. The ad further provided enhanced descriptions for six popular magazines.

The Mentor ($4/yr., 12 issues): “Real Romance”; authentic pirates; little-known stories of well-known people; places you always wanted to visit; romance made real; and the world of yesterday, today and tomorrow.”

Cosmopolitan ($3/yr., 12 issues): “The World’s Greatest Fiction Magazine”: most alert, vigorous and far-seeing magazine in America; bringing the best talent of the world to entertain and inform the reader; twice as many novels, stories and features by star writers as any other magazine.

Good Housekeeping ($3/yr., 12 issues): “Supreme in Service to the Homemaker”; shortening a woman’s workdays; saving 10% on living costs; tasty recipes, menus, smart fashions; useful suggestions on home dressmaking, health, childcare, decoration, entertainment, housekeeping.

Collier’s ($2/yr., 52 issues): “The National Weekly”; novels of thrilling interest; complete stories; politics, sports, and special features; clever pictures; written by popular authors, all in the most-quoted American weekly.

 Woman’s Home Companion ($1/yr., 12 issues): the year’s best novels; short stories; from movies to psychology, from travel to music; helpful, practical department service that includes fashions, cooking, good looks, better babies, interior design, good citizenship, entertaining, handicrafts, gardening, home planting and others.

American Magazine ($2.50/yr., 12 issues): Thrills from the experience of those who conquer life in spite of tremendous odds; people who offer individual recipes for success, famous writers like Zane Grey, detailing the glorious west and providing tales of adventure, mystery, humor and romance.

Thanks to old letters and vintage ads, we are provided with another glimpse into the nostalgic world of yesteryear. 

Read more

Ray and Norma Henry, former area residents, recently recalled when the peaceful early morning hours of July 10, 1950 suddenly turned into a ghastly scene of carnage that claimed the lives of three local people.

Ray picked up his sweetheart and future wife, Norma Murr, at Telford in his solid black 1938 Chevrolet 2-door sedan and drove to Johnson City to take in a movie at the Sevier Theatre (113 Spring Street). Being Sunday, the business was not permitted to open until 9 p.m. Norma remembered standing in a long ticket line outside the theatre that stretched back toward Main Street. When the movie ended at about 11 p.m., the couple drove to Nave Drive-In (200 Delaware at W. Market) for a snack.

Afterward, Ray headed back to Telford on 11-E to take Norma home. At about 12:45 a.m., just minutes after the couple passed the interception of Highway 81 to Erwin and the American Legion Club (formerly Woodland Lake) on the right, they spotted a bright light flashing across the sky behind them. Simultaneously, they heard what sounded like a motorcycle revving its engine. Believing a biker had run off the road, Ray turned the car around to investigate.

As they approached the Club, they spotted Joe Fleenor, the custodian who lived there, running back from the wreck to call for help. He hurriedly told them that there had been a horrific bus and car collision there. Ray and Norma drove to the wreck scene and parked along the side of the road. Since it was pitch dark, the couple took a flashlight from their car and crossed over a damaged barbwire fence by using a wooden sty that had been built there. 

The bus, a Tennessee Coach express en route to Birmingham, was heading to Knoxville. The other vehicle, a 1948 five-passenger Ford coupe, was reportedly traveling to Cosby. When Ray and Norma reached the bus, they observed the driver, Jimmy Lowery, helping his 38 passengers exit the vehicle. Surprisingly, no one appeared to be injured or overly alarmed. After the bus was emptied, the passengers huddled together until another coach could be dispatched. 

Lowery indicated that the Ford had attempted to pass him on a straight stretch of highway but briefly ran off the left side of the road and immediately swerved back along the left front of the bus. Jimmy tried to avoid hitting the car, but their bumpers suddenly locked together, sending both vehicles through the fence, down a 6-foot embankment and skidding 100 yards in a field before coming to rest. Fortunately, they missed several trees and Barkley Branch Creek or the circumstances would likely have been much graver. The bus landed upright on its wheels directly over the car that was upside down and barely visible.

About that time, Joe Fleenor returned saying that help from the Sheriff’s Department, Highway Patrol and Rescue Squad was on the way. Lighting was installed to illuminate the wreckage area. Dillow-Taylor Funeral Home provided two hearses that also served as ambulances. Three wreckers arrived. Two drove down the embankment to the wreck site while the third one stayed on the road to later pull the first two back onto the highway. 

Over the next agonizing minutes, one wrecker slowly pulled the bus forward while the other one partially dragged the car from under the bus. At first, it was impossible to determine how many people were in the car or who was driving. One person was still alive and in obvious pain.

Initially, it appeared that there were two occupants. Then Norma spotted another body in the back seat of the wreckage. All that could be seen was her red hair. In order to free her, workers had to carefully pull the coupe farther away from the bus. It was quickly confirmed that the woman was deceased.

Ray described the wreck as gruesome, saying it was the most sickening one he had ever witnessed. There was virtually no means to help the car occupants because they were literally compressed in a heap of metal and flesh.

The Johnson City-Press Chronicle’s Monday evening edition provided additional facts about the crash. The passengers were identified as Carl “Cocky” Cox, 45; John Monday, 35; and Nettie Patterson, 26. Monday’s body was removed first because he was still alive, but he passed away at Appalachian Hospital (300 N. Boone Street) in Johnson City at 3:30 a.m. One item of interest found in the car was a blood-soaked small brown bag containing $2700 in bills.

Cox’s lifeless body was next removed from the wreckage. Ray recognized Carl’s face, removed his wallet and handed it to a patrolman. His driver’s license confirmed his identity – Carl Vernon Cox, Limestone, Tennessee. The investigating patrolmen speculated that Monday was the driver. Sergeant Jim L. Seehorn of the Tennessee Highway Patrol said the vehicle was crushed like an accordion, having an astonishing vertical height of 18 inches.

Cox, a well-known, colorful businessman of that era, operated nightclubs in the surrounding areas at various times in his career. In September 1947, he was arrested after the Highway Patrol raided the Mott-O Club that was located on the west side of the Kingsport Highway not far from the Kingsport/Bristol intersection, seizing liquor and gambling equipment. Cocky received a 6-month jail sentence and was fined an undisclosed amount of money. A large number of Johnson Citians rallied behind Cox and partitioned Governor Gordon Browning. They convinced him that politics figured heavily in the raid and that Carl deserved to be excused. Consequently, the state’s chief executive issued a pardon after Cox had served only two days.

Monday, a World War II veteran, had been a driver for Diamond Cab Company (116 Buffalo) for about 10 years. Mrs. Patterson, the mother of three children, was a waitress at Central Bar-B-Q (701 S. Roan).

Appalachian Funeral Home (101 E. Unaka) handled arrangements for all three families. Funeral services for Peterson, Cox and Monday were held respectively at Highland Christian Church, Watauga Avenue Presbyterian Church and Temple Baptist Church.

Although 60 years have come and gone, there are still senior citizens around who remember that dreadful early morning event of summer 1950. Ray and Norma Henry are two of them.

 (Note: Carl “Cocky” Cox was Bob Cox’s second cousin.) 

Read more

Two novels by Maristan Chapman titled, The Happy Mountain (1928) and Homeplace (1929), offer insights into the manners and mores of southern mountaineers who struggled against approaching change in their secluded land. She lived in the southwestern portion of the Cumberland Mountains just over the Tennessee state line.

Chapman's objective in writing the books was to educate outsiders about her people whose remote existence was widely misunderstood. Almost overnight she became an authentic interpreter and historian of southern mountaineer culture. She told her story in fictional novels that was historically accurate, making them both entertaining and educational. The Literary Guild of America was so duly impressed with The Happy Mountain that they endorsed it.

To the average “outlander,” a designation used by mountain country folks to describe city dwellers, the diet of the hill people was believed to consist only of fundamental and bland food that was as unvarying as the hills and mountains themselves. But according to Maristan, mountain people not only enjoyed plenty of first-rate food, they also knew how to make it palatable – both wholesome and mouth-watering.

“Most of the food that is consumed is raised by the people themselves,” said Mrs. Chapman. “They have as unreasoning a horror of canned foods as they have of various labor saving devices that hail from the outlanders. They eat as people do who have hard work to accomplish, for earning a living means to earn it through a constant battle with the soil itself. Food is never really eaten in very large quantities. The meals are simple, nutritious and appetizing.”

Breakfast consisted of cereal, fried eggs, some cold bread left over from supper the night before, coffee and preserves. Fruit was never eaten for breakfast; instead, it was eaten between meals as snacks.

Dinner generally consisted of a variety of meat, fried eggs, tomatoes, beans and potatoes. Tomatoes were frequently fried with bacon or stewed with rice. Preserves or fruit butters were almost always present at the table. It was eaten with hot bread and butter; no meal was considered complete without them. 

Supper was somewhat of an extension of dinner. Whatever was left over from the midday meal was served again in the evening along with hot bread and buttermilk. Usually, a homemade pie was added to the menu “to sweeten the stomach.” Staple bread was made of cornmeal in a variety of forms such as from the humble pone of meal and water that was baked crisp in hot ashes of an open hearth. Another delight was the fluffy and succulent Sally Lunn, a type of yeast bread lightly scented with lemon that originated in England. It was traditionally sliced horizontally, spread with butter or whipped or clotted cream and reassembled for the meal.

Biscuits were made with sour milk and soda. The mountaineers never used baking powder because they believed it was tainted “fetched-on stuff” supplied from the towns. Their biscuits were large and distinctly browned, each one resembling a small loaf of bread.

Bread products were eaten piping hot. They were covered with white unsalted butter that was similar to clotted cream or consumed with one of the many preserves or fruit butters on hand. Sometimes the biscuits were eaten cold, made into sandwiches containing a slice of cold meat or overstuffed after butter has been spread within them.

According to Mrs. Chapman, southern mountain folks worked hard and were rewarded handsomely with appetizing food on their rustic dinner tables. I ordered both books and am currently reading them.  

Read more