Conveyences

I received a copy of a time card for trains and trolleys at the Union and Carnegie Passenger Depot for February 12, 1893. It consisted of a long narrow sheet of paper, folded six times for ease of use and printed on all sides containing 23 local advertisements and nine railway systems:

East Tennessee Virginia and Georgia, Tennessee and Ohio, North Carolina Branch, Knoxville and Ohio, Embreeville Branch, Johnson City and Carnegie Street Railway (streetcar), Walden’s Ridge Railroad, CC&C and East Tennessee and Western North Carolina

A glance over the ads reveals a nostalgic look back to a simpler Johnson City.

Hotel Carnegie: “The Only First-Class Hotel in the City. New Elegant and Attractive. $2.50 and $3.00 per day. Special Terms to Commercial Men. Electric Cars to and from Hotel Every 20 Minutes. R.W. Farr, Proprietor.”

C.F. Melcher: “For Furniture, Carpets, Oil Cloths, Mattings, Shades and House Furnishing Goods of Every Description. Prices Guaranteed to be the Lowest.”

The Iron Belt Land Company: “Will Harr, President. C.G. Chandler, V. Pres. F.P. Burch, Attorney. W.A. Hite, General Agent.”

Webb Brothers: “Dealers in Fresh Meats, Chickens, Butter, Eggs, Etc. Fruits and Vegetables in Season. Ocean, Lake and Gulf Fish.”

F.M. George & Co.: “Dealers in Lump and Steam, Wood, Lime and Cement. Office on Spring Street. Prompt Delivery.

W.L. Taylor & Bros.: Wholesale and Retail Dealers in Feed, Groceries, Glass, China, Queens and Tinware.”

Seaver & Summers: “Oldest Hardware Firm in the City. Paints and Oils, Sash, Doors, Etc. Agricultural Implements.”

Hotel Greenwood: “Centrally Located. Rates: $1 Per Day. W.M. Patton, Proprietor.”

W. A. Kite & Co.: “Real Estate Dealers and Agents.”

I.N. Beckner: “Dealer in Watches, Clocks, and Jewelry. Silver and Silver Plated Ware. Spectacles, Sewing Machines, Etc.” 

W.W. Kirkpatrick: “Leading Clothiers and Gents Furnisher.”

R.G. Johnson: “Furniture, Carpets, Oil Clothes, Mattings, Windows, Shades and Draperies.”

McFarland & Co., City Drug Store: “Prescription Druggists.”

T. B. Hurst & Co.: “The Tireless Toilers for Trade. The Most Complete Dry Goods and Millinery Store in East Tennessee. Wedding Trousseaux a specialty.”

Gump Bros.: “Clothing and Gents’ Furnishings. Opera House Block.”

P.F. Wofford: “Harr-Burrow Block. Druggist.Carries the Largest Line of Drugs, Toilet Articles and Cigars in the City.”

The Bee Hive: “Headquarters for Drugs, Tobaccos, Candies, Fresh Meats and Groceries.”

A.P. Henderson & Co.: “Dealers in Staves, Tinware, and Galvanized Iron Cornice. Roofing and Guttering a Specialty.”

Palace Livery Stable: “Englesing & Snapp Proprietors. Elegant Turnouts for All Purposes. Special Rates to Drummers (traveling sales reps).”

D.K. Lide: “Hardware, Cutlery, Paints, Oils, Glass, Sash, Doors, Blinds, Grates, Water Elevators, Pumps, Etc. Railway and Mining Supplies. Dynamite, Fuse and Exploders. Picks, Shovels, Etc.”

First National Bank: “Resources $250,000. Oldest, Largest and Strongest Bank in the County.”

John W. Boring: “Undertaker and Embalmer. All Kinds of Coffins, Caskets, and Metallic Cases Kept in Stock. Telegrams and Night Calls Promptly Attended to.”

The station stops for the nine railway systems will be noted in my next column. 

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The Jan. 30, 1908 Comet proclaimed in bold letters: “New Railroad Will Be Great.” A subtitle further stated “South And Western To Be The Best Built, Means Much In The Development of East Tennessee.” This early railroad would later be labeled the Carolina, Clinchfield and Ohio Railroad (CC&O), eventually becoming known simply as the Clinchfield.

In early 1905, a small group of capitalists purchased 800,000 acres of coal land in Wise, Dickinson and Buchanan counties, Virginia and formed the Clinchfield Coal Corporation. These investors also acquired control of the property of the defunct Charleston, Cincinnati and Chicago (3Cs) Railroad. Backers included some of the richest men in the country, including George L. Carter, president, and M.J. Caples, general manager.

Rapid development in the Central South section of the country caused these entrepreneurs to soon recognize that their nearby coal reserves could help satisfy a growing demand for the fuel. These investors were determined to take advantage of the opportunities it afforded. To accomplish this, they realized that a new railroad line would be needed and they were determined to be the ones to build it.

The rail system, to be named the South and Western Railroad, was to operate from Elkhart City, KY to Spartanburg, SC, a distance of 284 miles. At Elkhorn City, it was to connect with the Big Sandy branch of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, providing an outlet for the mines to the northwest. Allegedly, Carter did not want Southern Railway management to know the precise route of the new venture across the Blue Ridge Mountains. Consequently, he chose the generic name “South & Western” rather than listing city or regional names, as was the customary way to identify them.

The managers further realized that, to put their operation on equal footing with other major industrial sections of the country, steep grades had to be reduced, requiring an enormous outlay of capital. However, when completed, the new rail route would be able to haul as much coal from the mines to market in one train as could have been hauled in three trains over existing lines using locomotives of equal capacity. To accomplish this result, an amount of money was needed such as had not been expended for the initial construction of any other railroad in the country.

The connections, which it acquired with the Southern, Seaboard Air Line, Atlantic Coast Line and other railroads radiating through the Central South, enabled the Clinchfield coal to become a potent factor in the market throughout the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. Cotton mills, furniture factories and a large number of industrial plants began to spring up everywhere and the number was expected to increase even more so.

In addition to the great amount of coal that it hauled, this rail system also carried loads of lumber for a number of years. A large quantity of virgin forest lay upon the line. An even larger acreage of timber was present with hundreds of millions of feet of merchantable timber standing awaiting a better route to market other than floating logs on the swollen waters of mountain streams. Expectations were high that the next few years would bring a large influx of people migrating into a region that was largely sparse back then. 

The article’s optimism showed through in its visionary concluding note: “The future for even so expensive a railroad as the South and Western seems assured and the judgments of its backers and builders will no doubt be amply vindicated.” The statement would prove to be prophetic. 

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Local history can sometimes be found in unlikely places, such as a May 1931 Electric Traction magazine article that provided surprising particulars about the city’s switchover from streetcars to buses. Also included were two photos showing the interior and exterior of the new mass transit vehicles.

It was estimated that between 1892 and 1921, over a million passengers rode the city trolley along nearly a quarter of a million miles of parallel track. However, the next 11 years signaled a significant decline in streetcar usage, caused by a steady increase in the number of private automobiles on the road.

The town was facing a dilemma in 1931: either buy several new pricey streetcars for replacement of older cars and expansion of new routes or switch to buses. Additional trolley lines meant extra track and overhead power cables. While trolley routes were pretty much fixed, bus routes offered flexible itineraries. 

That year, Johnson City Traction Company management proposed to city officials that streetcars be replaced with buses. The city agreed and acquired five new Mack Model BG 21-passenger vehicles. Mr. D.R. Shearer became direct supervisor over the bus system and T.C. Land served as superintendent of operations. 

The city immediately began planning numerous routes and experimented with trial runs so as to offer transport service to as many residents as possible. Fortunately for streetcar motormen, most were redeployed as bus drivers.

Pomp and ceremony heralded the inauguration of bus service for the city’s 25,000 residents. City officials and civic leaders assembled at the John Sevier Market Street bus terminal where the National Soldiers Home band orchestrated a 15-minute band concert.

Charles E. Ide, vice pres. of the East Tennessee Light and Power Co., presented the key of the first official bus to Mayor W. B. Ellison. After the ceremony, the mayor, accompanied by several city officials and executives of the company, boarded the bus.

Ellison placed the key in the ignition, turned it and started the vehicle, thus launching Johnson City’s first bus service. Civic leaders, visitors and educators were then invited to take short trips around town to fully demonstrate the benefits of the new impressive medium.

The Mack buses were well lighted and had seats upholstered in genuine grade leather. Heating was provided by a hot water system and ventilation came from four waterproof ejector-type ventilators in the roof.   

Reduced vibration was realized by employing rubber extensively throughout the chassis and installing rubber shock insulators at all points of spring suspension. Gear operation consisted of first, second, third, fourth, direct and reverse.

The new buses contained Ohmer fare registers that, on demand, calculated and printed out a summary strip of paper showing the number of cash fares, tokens, school fares and transfers received.

Riders were charged 10 cents cash or a token per ride. Four tokens could be purchased for 30 cents; additional ones beyond four were sold in multiples of two at 7.5 cents each. Youngsters under 16 years of age rode for a nickel. 

Customers were treated to services they had not experienced before. With each passing day, the public observed more buses on the streets and fewer trolleys. The endearing little nostalgic streetcar with its ever-familiar “clang, clang, clang” soon rolled off into yesteryear bringing about the end of a colorful era of history. 

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“Clang, clang, clang went the trolley; Ding, ding, ding went the bell.” These familiar words are from “The Trolley Song,” the featured musical composition in the 1944 film classic, “Meet Me In St. Louis.”

In 1887, the first successful electric street railway in the United States began operation in Richmond, Virginia. Five years later, the Johnson City and Carnegie Street Railway became a reality with a four-mile span of metal track. The trolley soon evolved as the city’s chief mode of travel, bridging the distance gap between inner-city dwellers and suburb inhabitants.

People in the outskirts of town could jump on the trolley and ride downtown to shop, watch a flick at a movie theatre, roller-skate at a local rink or attend a concert or lecture at Jobe’s Opera House. Likewise, urban residents could ride a streetcar to Lake Wataussee (later Cox’s Lake) for a fun day of boating, swimming and picnicking or stopover at spacious Soldier’s Home (now V.A. Center).

Trolleys permitted people to affordably commute to their work places. The Blondie newspaper comic strip often showed the always-late-for-work Dagwood Bumstead leaping desperately into the air to grab the trolley end pole just as the vehicle departed. Moreover, streetcars took people to school, church, the doctor, family gatherings, sporting contests and social events. The endearing little cars became a vital influence in the city.

The trolley barn was located at 100-102 N. Roan Street, former site of the Johnson City Power Board. The uniquely designed building contained ample space for storing streetcars that were not in service. After exiting the terminal onto Roan Street, the trolley driver had a choice of turning north to Carnegie Hotel and Lake Wataussee or south to the Normal School (later ETSU) and Soldiers Home.

Traveling south took the trolley to E. Main where it turned west and navigated to Fountain Square. Two route options emerged at this location; the trolley could go left onto Buffalo or continue west on Main. The Buffalo choice brought it to Walnut where it bore right and passed Model Mills (later General Mills). According to Ken Harrison, it turned left onto Southwest Avenue and then right onto W. Pine before arriving at the Normal School. The other Fountain Square route was to travel west on Main and eventually head south toward Soldier’s Home.

Leaving the trolley station and going north took it to Watauga where it proceeded east to a short passing section of two parallel tracks that provided a spot for trolleys going in opposite directions to pass. The trolley continued east to Oakland where it turned right and then left onto Fairview to the Carnegie Hotel. On weekends and special occasions, the company offered a trip north on Oakland and northwest toward Lake Wataussee. 

Frank Tannewitz said it cost a nickel to ride the trolley. Many people walked rather than ride because a nickel was a lot of money in those days. A wire on top of the trolley connected it to the main power line. When the trolley got to the end of the line, the attendant switched the main supply wire from the front to the back to reverse the car’s direction. The attendant then flipped the seats over for the return trip.”

In my next column, I will relate how modern comfortable buses arrived in the city in 1931, causing the demise of the nostalgic little streetcars and silencing the familiar “clang, clang, clang” and “ding, ding, ding.”  

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The Jan. 1951 edition of Trains magazine (Kalmbach Publishing Co.) contained a most attention-grabbing article about the East Tennessee and Western North Carolina (ET&WNC) Railway abandoning the narrow gauge portion of its line.

Writer Jack Alexander had the enviable opportunity to ride “Tweetsie” on Oct. 16, 1950 as it made its last official roundtrip run between Elizabethton and Cranberry, NC. At 10:10 a.m. in near perfect weather, Jack boarded the seven-car train, pulled by Baldwin 4-6-0 engine No. 11. His description of the train’s noisy departure was “with a whistle screaming and a feather (puff of white steam) on the pops (above the safety valves).”

Jack identified train personnel as Walter R. Allison, engineer; C.C. (Brownie) Allison, fireman; Clyde Simmerly and Mack Luttrell, brakemen; and C.G. “Cy” Crumley, conductor. Cy then swung the “highball,” indicating the train had received priority to proceed at safe full speed and began moving uphill at a rapid pace, heading for treacherous 4% elevation grades and 32-degree curves.

“Tweetsie” journeyed across a bridge into Valley Forge, up the valley, over a covered bridge and into a tunnel below Hampton. The wheels seemed to mournfully click out memories of the many hours the riders had spent riding this popular train when there were three daily round-trip passenger runs, traveling over 34 miles of track in two states. A feeling of sadness encompassed Alexander; he felt like he was riding a funeral train with “Tweetsie” being the deceased. Although World War II brought about a demand for more ore, postwar circumstances of depleted mines and declining timber reserves caused a gradual decline in rail traffic.

After briefly stopping in Hampton, the train soon entered the magnificent Doe River Gorge. After additional stops at Blevins and Roan Mountain, “Tweetsie” rested at Elk Park at 12:15 p.m. to give passengers a lunch break. The crew ate with guarded conversations and far away looks in their eyes; a sense of stoic nostalgia had overwhelmed them. After lunch, the crew did some switching in the yard and then boarded the train for its remaining two miles to Cranberry, NC. After spotting Engine No. 11 for water at the Cranberry tank, “Tweetsie” began her final return trip to Elizabethton. It was 1:30 p.m.

As always, the engine was not turned at the east end of the line, but instead, run in reverse at the head end of the train for the remainder of the journey. Alexander climbed upon the tender car and rode the water-hatch cover for a better view of the local terrain. The train then dropped down the hill across the Tennessee border into Shell Creek and on to Roan Mountain and Blevins. As Jack sat there thinking of bountiful past years and pleasurable associations with the crew, Tweetsie bounced through several tunnels and rattled across numerous bridges.

Consistent with a longstanding tradition since 1882, local residents sadly ran out of their modest homes to tearfully wave goodbye to the crew and watch their favorite train chug by one final time. “Tweetsie” suddenly reduced speed as it crept around Pardee Point, dropped down and out of the gorge, crossed the covered bridge, traveled through Hampton, sped across the high bridge over the river and entered Valley Forge.

Alexander abruptly concluded his article with these words: “Extra 11 West entered the yards at Elizabethton at 3:30 p.m. The crew made a Dutch drop to get the cars in the yard, then ran No. 11 over the pit and dropped the fire. Tweetsie’s last ride was over.” 

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I love to receive correspondence from folks who have experienced firsthand the history of yesteryear. Such was the case when Martha Culp, widow of Dr. D.P. Culp, former president of ETSU sent me this letter:

“I love to read the history articles on Monday’s Heritage page in the newspaper,” said Mrs. Culp. Although I was born 91 years ago on a mountain farm in Alabama, I consider Tennessee to be my true home. I moved here on Feb. 8, 1968 at 3:30 in the morning. In my first year in a two-room school, it had eight grades. The custom for students was to finish or fail out of the seventh or eighth grade and fool around a year or two. Many girls got married at 15 or 16. My father was not going to allow the future of his 12-year-old first-born daughter be determined in that fashion.”

Ms. Culp’s grandmother and an aunt lived two blocks from a high school and invited her to live with them until she graduated. Her parents accepted their offer: My father picked me up after school every Friday. I spent the weekend with my family, cooking, churning, washing dishes, making up beds, sweeping and mopping, as country girls were supposed to do. We went to church on Sunday, had company for dinner and in the late afternoon, Dad drove me to my grandmother’s in our 1925 Model T Ford. It was an advanced model with a self-starter.”

Mrs. Culp alleged that many people were still driving buggies and two-horse wagons then. They considered her father to be a wild driver, attaining automobile speeds of up to 40 mph. The late university president’s wife related a humorous story: “When I was in the seventh grade, there was a heavy rainy season and all the creeks rose. A small nearby one was so shallow that it was not bridged. All cars and wagons forded it and foot travelers crossed on a large flattened log. The creek was wider and deeper than usual on that Friday when Dad came to take me home. He drove through it with no problem on the way to school, but rain had fallen heavily on the mountain with rainwater heading for that little creek. It was deeper and swifter on the way back, spreading over more than 70 feet of the road. The rain had slowed to a sprinkle.

“Dad had no choice. He drove slowly into the shallow spread of water. There was no problem until we reached the creek bed, where the water was swift and deep, rising to the floor of the car. The engine sputtered and died.  Dad tried to start it with no luck. There was no time to spare, for the creek was rising. Dad quickly removed his shoes and socks, tossed them into the back seat and rolled the legs of his overalls above his knees. He took a dry handkerchief from his pocket and stepped out in rushing water up to his knees. He unlatched the side cover of the hood that sheltered the engine, lifted the cover and dried the spark plugs and magneto with his handkerchief. “He closed the cover and climbed dripping wet into his seat under the steering wheel, pressed the starter and the engine responded. He drove out with bare feet and we went home with no further problems.”

Mrs. Culp recalled their previous car was a 1921 Ford that had to be cranked by hand. She said if they had been driving that car, they would have been stranded until a team of mules could be located to pull the vehicle out of the creek, probably the next day.

She concluded the letter with these wistful words: “Though we have owned many cars, that 1925 Model T Ford has always been my favorite.” 

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