One of my favorite writers of yesteryear is Hal Boyle (1911-1974), a colorful and witty AP award-winning journalist who frequently wrote about Appalachia. Typical of the writer’s work is a 1955 article commenting about how modern factories were affecting the lifestyle of residents of the Great Smoky Mountains.

The fictional stereotyped hillbilly was portrayed as a shiftless figure wearing overalls who ran through the hills barefooted, a worn guitar slung over his shoulder, an old hog rifle in one hand and a jug of moonshine in the other. According to Boyle, the hillbilly image began to change over time.

Mountain folks began adapting to a new way of life that enabled them to maintain their ancient pastoral freedom while escaping the paucity of the past. They were enjoying the best of both worlds. Hal noted that the mountaineers humorously portrayed a distorted image for tourists to enjoy. However, they didn’t relish a ‘flatland furriner’ (city dweller) calling them a ‘hillbilly,’ preferring instead to be referred to by more dignified terms as southern highlander, mountain man, hill man or mountaineer.”

The industrialization of the Tennessee Valley changed the area from being so remote that vehicles could scarcely penetrate it to having adequate roads for travel. With it appeared improved social and economic patterns.

The mountain folks’ newly acquired skills ultimately brought them down from the hills to work at one of the growing number of factories in the valleys. Most of them opted to live in the mountains and work in the valleys. According to Boyle, “Some drove as much as 50 miles to their places of employment. When the quitting whistle blew, they climbed into their cars and drove back to their mountain homes to do their chores and cultivate their hillside gardens.”

Boyle related the case of a 43-year-old blacksmith who worked at Alcoa Aluminum Plant in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, within sight of Chilhowie Mountain a few miles to the south of it. William, as I will call him, drove 10 miles to work from his 12-acre mountain farm where he, his wife and six children lived and farmed.

 Although the mountaineer eventually could afford the comforts of living in the city, he was not willing to move there even if he were offered him a house that included multiple indoor bathrooms with modern plumbing. He was fully aware that prosperous times were rapidly changing mountain living. Most residents no longer lived in rustic cabins. They chose not to live in the cities because they could bring the amenities of city living back to their quaint mountain homes. Mountaineers began enjoying the comforts of electricity for heating, cooking and powering a wide variety of electrical devices such as radios and televisions.

William spoke highly of living in the hills: “There's an $80,000 school going up in my neighborhood. Why should I want to live in town? You know, I've never had a haircut, shave or shoeshine in town in all my days. The country's the best place to live and to raise a family. The people learn how to work and save and they don't get into so much trouble. My children have no desire to live in town.”

William acknowledged that there were still a few revenuer agents around chasing moonshine stills: “The growth of factory jobs has cut it down. When I was a boy, you could count seven stills from where I lived, but now there isn't one.”

The mountain man was very proud that he had retained the rugged independence and individualism of his ancestors. He achieved a degree of economic security they never knew and still enjoyed the lifestyle, sunshine and pristine air of the mountains. The “hillbilly” shifted toward becoming a “mountain william” but never a “citybilly.”

“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. 

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.  

March 15, 1934 marked a special event for the Kings Mountain Post of the American Legion; it celebrated 15 years of service. Congress chartered the association in 1919 as a patriotic, mutual-help, and wartime veterans’ organization. While my source did not reveal the location of the Legion in that year, it later resided at 503 E. Main Street adjacent to the Central Fire Station.

The first order of business at the anniversary commemoration was a review of its history by the membership. More than 200 members, visitors and honored guests were on hand for what was described as a “bean feed” coupled with an elaborate program, an initiation ceremony for six new members and a gala party.

Past commanders, who were introduced in the sequential order of their terms, spoke briefly concerning their experience as heads of the local Legion and further elaborated on progress made since its early beginning. Mrs. Cleve B. Coe presented the American Legion Auxiliary officials who reviewed the work of both the Legion and the Auxiliary.

A huge birthday cake, appropriately topped with 15 candles occupied the center of the stage. Each commander lighted a designated candle before addressing the large audience and introducing guests.

Dr. H.M. Cass, chapter member and leader during the first year of the organization, lighted the first candle. Other unit heads in order of their service were scheduled to speak, although not all were able to attend: Lee B. Harr, twice commander, (1920-1921), R.F. Farrell (1922, absent), Adam Bowman (1923), Belmont Collette (1924 and 1928), Sam H. Colie (1925, absent), Harry Smith, 1926), Joe Summers (1927), W. Lewis Smith (1929), W.T. Watkins (1930), C.B. Coe (1931, absent), C.C. Rice (1932, absent) and Fred M. Lewis (1933).

Members of the Auxiliary lighted candles for the absent former commanders and presented them to the audience. When Frank Gaut, the 1934 commander, was introduced, he lighted a “half candle” commenting that the present Legion year only deserved one that size.

The commanders said they were highly pleased with the Legion’s accomplishments. The subject of relief to families of needy ex-service men and the bonus became the principal topic for their brief discussion.

Mr. C.B. Coe introduced the past commanders of the Auxiliary as follows: Mrs. Mary Lyle, Miss Ethel Barton, Mrs. Louise St. John Taylor, Mrs. Ray Greenway; Mrs. George Hyder, Mrs. Hubert Johnson, Mrs. (?) Scott, Mrs. John Herrin. State officers – Mrs. H.L. Moore, Miss Belle Miller and Miss Louise Summers – were also introduced.

Following an appeal by Miss Edith Barton, it was unanimously decided by Legion and Auxillary members present to start operation of the Crippled Children’s Survey in Johnson City immediately.

Next came an impressive initiation ceremony for six new members. Following this was a program of addresses, both formal and impromptu. Commander Galt, who presided throughout the meeting, outlined a plan designed to increase club membership by reviewing the various impressive objectives of the organization.

Next on the agenda was the main event, a party that took weeks of planning and preparation.  Many were present from out of town posts as well as the Lester Harris Post of Mountain Home. Several past commanders were unable to be present but sent their congratulations.

The cake “cutting” was a surprising finale to the gathering. A $15 prize was offered to the past commander who could cut a piece of the mammoth pastry. No one won the money because the cake was actually fabricated of tin boxes that were revealed when the icing was penetrated.  

Paul Gill, a frequent responder to my history articles, has conducted a tremendous amount of research on several local families that include Weaver, Sherfey and Feathers. He put me in contact with Sandy Mills for a column about her grandfather, Arlie Anderson Weaver.

Sandy and her siblings, Jeanne and Marta, fondly remember Arlie as a gentle, soft-spoken man who never raised his voice. He was born in 1887 in Bristol, Tennessee and died in 1961. He married Ira Beatrice Crumley with whom he raised four children, three girls and a boy.

Soon after the death of Arlie’s father, Jacob Emanuel Weaver, in 1919, the couple acquired the old Frederick Weaver home where Arlie was born. The house, reportedly built around 1770 by the Beeler family, resided in the Weaver clan for 162 years until it was sold in 1982 shortly after the passing of Ira.

The stately old home still stands but has been renovated over the years. It was located on Weaver Pike across from Weaver School, Weaver Church and Rader Store, which was once owned by Arlie’s father. Sandy attended the school until the mid-8th grade.

Ms. Mills obviously possessed a passion for the old home place as evidenced by her detailed description of its exterior and interior features. It had a huge chimney and fireplace made of stone. The front steps were very wide and also constructed of stone. A swing hung on the front porch.

Sandy meticulously described the interior of the house with its beautiful fixtures and spacious rooms: “Inside was a large living room with a standing radio, a short-wave radio and a piano. The latter had a seat cover that slipped when I sat down on it. On a large wooden desk sat a very old typewriter with glass keys on it. A bedroom was located to the left, though I suspect it was once a parlor or perhaps a second living room. The telephone was in this room. My grandfather kept frequently used phone numbers written on the wallpaper beside the telephone. He had no need for a Rolodex.”

Sandy recalled that the dining room was back of the living room: “My grandmother served Sunday dinner there on pink depression glass dishes. In the corner was a curved glass cabinet, which held special pieces and a set of dishes that Glenn Weaver, my uncle, brought back from the Korean War. 

“Next was the kitchen with a cabinet, which had a flour mill inside one door. A built-in cupboard occupied the back corner and a table was in the middle. On it was always pear butter or similar food item in a covered dish. My grandfather ate there, at least when I was present. There was a closed-in back porch beyond the kitchen. This is where he always marked our height on the doorframe, labeling the name of the child and the date. Thus, he could show us how much we grew from visit to visit.”

The granddaughter said that access to the upstairs was achieved using a stairwell that was opened from the downstairs bedroom. Climbing the steps revealed three bedrooms. The one her grandfather slept in had a feather bed that was never made. He logically reasoned that it was foolish to make the bed and then mess it up again at bedtime. Each bed upstairs had a light hanging on the headboard and the closet areas were curtained. Sandy recalled that her grandfather’s Mason sword always hung on one bedroom wall.

Sandy concluded her note: “There was a cellar accessible from outside, which held canned foods that were ‘put up’ during the summer months to be enjoyed until the next season. My grandparents ran a dairy farm. The barn was down a little way from the house with a large spring in between. My cousin and I played in the barn frequently in the summer.”   

Paul Gill sent me a photo dated May 1904 of the Tip Top Restaurant that once operated in Johnson City. He believes it was near Fountain Square. Visibly noted are unpaved streets and wooden sidewalks. Paul said the man in the apron is his cousin and storeowner, George R. Brown. Standing beside him on the right is his wife. Their son, Melvin, and daughter, Phoebe, are in front of them. Several advertisements can be read: G.R. Brown, Tip Top Restaurant, Ice Cream, Lodging 25 Cents and Fresh Oysters. Paul said that when autos became plentiful, George opened a service station in town. He would like to know if anyone could provide additional facts to share. An old City Directory identifies George’s wife’s name as Sallie and their residence on Boone Street at W. Watauga Avenue.  

A large 1928 map identified as “Johnson City General Plan” reveals a wealth of information, some of it surprising. The legend identifies symbols for proposed and actual streets, parks and parkways, schools, semi-public properties, public properties, cemeteries, railroad property, industrial property and business property. John Nolan was listed as the city planner.

I immediately spotted something very interesting. I attended West Side School at 304 W. Main at Watauga in the first grade. Printed on the map just west of Peachtree Street across Sidney Avenue (renamed Knob Creek Road) were the words, “Proposed West Side School.” Did the city plan to replace the old one? That did not happen because it was in use until 1961.

The answer lies in the fact that the city needed another grammar school in the rapidly expanding west end of town. City officials apparently had a change of heart and later build it at 812 W. Market (across from Kiwanis Park). Between 1930 and 1934, the Main Street school was known as Old West Side School and the new one became New West Side School. In 1934, the new school’s designation was changed to Henry Johnson School. No school was ever built opposite Peachtree.

Another interesting tidbit was a reference to a “High School Site” on a sizable plot of land sandwiched between Elm Street, Eighth Avenue, Baxter Street and a proposed North Skyline Parkway along the north side. Was this site researched for a new Science Hill (201 S. Roan Street) or Langston (226 E. Myrtle), the city’s black high school? Obviously, no educational facility was ever constructed there.

Other schools displayed on the map were East Tennessee Normal School, Junior High, Martha Wilder, Columbus Powell, Keystone, Douglas (black), Dunbar (black), Piney Grove, Roan Hill, North Side and South Side. Notably absent was New Martha Wilder (renamed Stratton). Another sizeable parcel of land situated south of the intersection of Buffalo and Highland was marked, “Special School Site.” No additional information was offered.

As I further perused the map, I spotted four more anticipated parkways in addition to the aforementioned North Skyline one: Country Club, Cherokee, Woodland and Sinking Creek.

While most of Johnson City’s street identifications in 1928 were identical to those of today, a few changed names over the years. Case-in-point is the group of ten parallel streets running east and west from Tannery Knob toward North Johnson City. Remnants of a failed attempt by wealthy steel magnate Andrew Carnegie to build an imposing new town named Carnegie along the northeast end of the city were visibly evident. The Carnegie avenues (and today’s names) were First (Millard/Railroad), Second (Fairview), Third (Myrtle), Fourth (Watauga), Fifth (Unaka), Sixth (Holston), Seventh (Chilhowie), Eighth, Ninth and Tenth. The names on the 1928 map showed First, Fairview, Myrtle, Watauga, Unaka, Holston, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Tenth.

Other observations from the plan revealed a future City Mountain Park on what is now known as Tannery Knob, the main Post Office located on Ashe Street (later became the Ashe Street Courthouse), a Jewish Cemetery adjacent to Oak Hill Cemetery at the intersection of Whitney and Wilson, the VA referred to as National Sanitorium and several planned roads the length of the south end of E. Main. One in particular, Glanzstoff Road, was named for the American Glanzstoff plant in Elizabethton (renamed North American Rayon Corporation). It became the new Johnson City/Elizabethton Highway.

The 1928 city-planning map offers another glimpse of vintage Johnson City and adds additional pieces to the city’s “history mystery” puzzle. 

Throughout the years, most small towns that develop into large cities acquired small nicknamed districts that typically vanish with time as the city grows. Johnson City was no exception.

Today’s column deals with some of these localities, most of which are no longer called by that name. See how many of the dozen appellations below you can identify with or perhaps have heard about.

Potlicker (also spelled potlikker and pot liquor) Flats was the vivid label bestowed on a section on the west end of town that surrounded Fall Street. The name likely was derived from a term meaning the broth left in a pan after cooking vegetable greens (collard, turnip or mustard), beef or pork.

Another section of town, loosely sited around Walnut Street at Roan, was called Dogtown. We can only surmise that the area had an inordinate number of dogs roaming around it. Can anyone provide additional information?

Carter Addition denotes another section that endured for some years. It was a tract of land beginning at Virginia Street and running out to the university, taking in sections of Pine, Maple and Walnut streets. It was named for George L. Carter who also lived there and sold land around it.

Stumptown was located east of Roan near Grover Street. It was dubbed by that name because long ago when there were only three houses built there, the surrounding area was cleared of trees but work was stopped, leaving the stumps still standing. This was a benefit for nearby residents because “stripping” the stumps provided a quick and convenient source of firewood.

Tannery Knob, the hill on the north end of Legion Street, was so-called from the tannery  business located at the foot of it that was once operated by Henry Gildersleeve.

Although Maupin Row off King Springs Road still denotes a street, the old Maupin Row section extended out Locust Street to Southwest Avenue and on toward the university. It got its name as an honor to a revered Salvation Army preacher, Theodore Arrowood, and his wife, Reecie, known as the “Angel of Maupin Row.”

The well-known Spring Street cut through a section of downtown that began at E. Main and extended south across the railroad tracks. It acquired its name from a spring that was located at the head of it. Further down the street was a croquet ground where Johnson Citians could engage in the then popular outdoor sport using wooden balls, wire hoops and a mallet. Thomas E. Matson, who was a civil engineer with the ET&WNC, put in a line that carried water from the spring to a business on Tipton Street. He also constructed a standpipe on that line which permitted water to flow into a trough near the location of Poplar Street that provided refreshment for cows and horses.

Perhaps the smallest parcel of land to acquire a name was Fonde Circle (mentioned in my recent Stella Lent article). It was a triangle of ground on the Southern Railroad property where the tracks now cross Market Street. For years it was an unsightly trash heap. When Mr. Fonde, a regional superintendent for the railroad, died, the railroad created a job for his widow to beautify locations along the adjacent train tracks. In that parcel of land, she planted shrubbery, grew flowers and even installed a small pool as a living memorial to her late husband.

Four additional sections of town were Jenny’s Hill situated behind Robin’s Roost on South Roan Street where the first reservoir in Johnson City was sited; Squirrel Hill around Piney Grove; Clinch Hollow, an area on Cherokee Street above Southwest Avenue; and Master Knob a quiet secluded hill on the east side of the intersection of Oakland Avenue and Princeton Road (my favorite place to explore).

Over time, many of the nicknamed districts slipped quietly into yesteryear, but a few are still withy us. If you have others to share, please send them to me. 

From time to time, I incorporate a history quiz in my columns to challenge Press readers’ memories of vintage Johnson City. Listed below are 15 questions. See how many you can answer without looking at the answers at the end of the column. Older residents should know many of them.

Questions

1. The Sevier Theatre was once located at 113 Spring Street. What was located at this site before that?

2. Was the front entrance to the old Arcade Building from W. Main or W. Market Street?

3. The east block of Main and Market streets had a small walkthrough adjacent to McLellans that provided a convenient access from one street to the other. What popular business operated for years at 124 E. Market in that crosswalk? 

4. F.W. Woolworth’s last location was at 315-17 E. Main, the current site of Hands On Museum. Before that, it was a narrow store on the north side of Main Street between Fountain Square and Roan Street. Was it adjacent to Liggett’s (drug store) or Hannah’s (men’s clothing store)?  

5. Was the front entrance to Parks Belk Department Store from E. Main or E. Market Street?

6. Peter’s Gift Shop was located at 325 E. Main. Many residents (including me) bought tropical fish from Peter because he took such good care of them. What was Peter’s last name?

7. What is the name of downtown Johnson City’s longest running business that is still in operation?

8. Nance Lanes, a bowling alley, once conducted business between E. Main and E. Market at Division. What car dealership previously occupied that site?

9. When the Lady of the Fountain was relocated from Fountain Square in 1937, where did the city put her for a few years before selling her?

10. What was the name of the individual who made, delivered and sold delicious hot tamales downtown to local businesses as well as to pedestrians?

11. What was on the property at the southeast corner of E. Main and Roan before King’s Department Store was built there?

12. The John Sevier Hotel’s original building plans called for how many sections? How many were actually completed? 

13. What once attracted townspeople and visitors to the Faw property at N. Roan and W. Market before the John Sevier Hotel was constructed there?

14. What two city-owned buildings were adjacent to the Leon-Ferenbach plant, situated back-to-back along the east end? One faced King Street, the other W. Market Street.

15. What was the name of the Fire Department’s trusty mixed pit bull canine mascot that faithfully served the city from 1928 until 1936? 

Answers

1. Elk’s Building – BPOE (Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks). 2. W. Market Street. 3. Arcade Shoe Shop. 4. Liggett’s. 5. E. Main Street. It also had a side entrance from Fountain Square. 6. Peter Naher. 7. Masengill’s. 8. Dan Plank Oldsmobile. 9. At the entrance to Roosevelt (Memorial) Stadium. 10. Will Cope. 11. The Methodist Episcopal Church, today known as the First Methodist Church, now located at 900 Spring Street. 12. Three were planned but only two were completed. 13. A spring that not only became a watering hole for visitors and their animals to the downtown area but also became an essential water supply for Science Hill High School across the street. 14. Johnson City Police Department (north) and Fire Station #4 (south). 15. Boss, operating out of Fire Station #3.  

A 1928 Johnson City Chronicle headline proclaimed, “Plan to Spend $8 Million on Route 1, Tennessee’s “Broadway of America.” The article was referring to the proposed 538-mile Memphis-to-Bristol Highway.

Local businessmen initially formed the highway association in 1911 to promote the state’s development. Soon after its creation in 1915, the Highway Department designated the corridor as State Route 1 and made it the top road priority. In 1926, the state selected about two-thirds of Route 1 as U.S. 70, the major east-west corridor in the region.

By the late 1920s, the local artery became part of the 2,385-mile “Broadway of America” highway system that ran from California to New York. Route 1 remained the main east-west route through the Volunteer State until the completion of Interstate 40 in the late 1960s. The Tennessee portion of it was sometimes referred to as “The Broadway of Tennessee.”

The intent of the work was to make permanent road improvements to the Memphis-to-Bristol Highway. The cost estimate came from Highway Department figures. Construction and paving was already underway when the news hit the newspaper.

The new intra-highway afforded a wide diversity of people to travel across the state, thus helping unify the three main divisions of the state: East, Middle and West Tennessee. A movement to promote good roads arose in the 1890s from a wide variety of concerned citizens consisting of railroad owners, farm alliances, businessmen, vacation travelers and even bicyclists. Such efforts received widespread approval from the public. Timing was good for the new highway. The arrival of mass-produced motorized vehicles at the turn of the 19th century offered competition to railroads and steamboats, thereby creating the need for good thoroughfares. 

A Memphis-to-Bristol meeting being held in Nashville brought encouraging news from Highway Commissioner Harry S. Berry. Not only had a schedule been developed for covering roads with state-of-the-art paving, the department displayed a commitment to pave the entire stretch of highway between Memphis and Bristol.

The committee realized that the need for better intrastate roads was likewise critical to the overall efforts of other states working on the “Broadway of America.” A status report presented at the meeting revealed that the paving of Route 1 included 191 miles of cement concrete highway, 42 miles of rock asphalt highway, 10 miles of bituminous concrete and 177 miles of bituminous macadam. All were said to be high-type of pavement. The report further showed that, in addition, about 100 miles were of low-type pavement (surface treated), 12 miles graveled and 30 miles graded. This meant that 75% of Route 1 had high type pavement, a far cry from today’s interstate highways.

The building of the Memphis-to-Bristol Highway encouraged the undertaking of other state road-building projects and further persuaded Virginia and Mississippi to extend their highways.

An examination of my column photo appears to be that of a country road instead of a highway; however, the narrow barely-paved highway was a major improvement over other roadways of that era. In 1911, automobiles were just starting to give competition to passenger trains as the main source of intra-city travel.  

Comparing an early 1940s modern kitchen with those of today reveals how far technology has advanced in 70 years. In that wartime era, someone speaking of a dishwasher was likely referring to a person, not an automated machine.

Back then, family members assisted with numerous household chores such as washing dishes. Most homes had a definite sequence to this ritual: cleaning glasses first, silverware second, dishes third and pots and pans fourth. Since water was often conserved at rural homes, it was necessary to avoid changing dishwater too often. Therefore, the least greasy items were generally washed first.

The Doe family members have just finished their evening meal. Mary and Jane are assigned the responsibility of cleaning up after supper. The girls bring dirty dishes, drinking glasses and eating utensils from the dining table to the kitchen. Initially, they fill a dishpan half full of water and add a small quantity of soap to it. They wash glasses and dry and polish them, making sure no lint is present. They then put the clean glasses in the kitchen closet.

Dirty silverware is next placed in the water that was used to clean the glasses. They add additional soap as needed. Each piece of silverware is thoroughly cleaned, rinsed, dried and put away.

The girls then remove food from plates and after that scrub them to get rid of any remaining particles stuck to them. Afterward, they take the accumulated slop to an outside covered garbage can for disposal.

Since the dishpan water is not too dirty, it can be used to wash the plates and saucers. The youngsters submerge each item in the water and clean it meticulously. As with most cleaning operations, a reasonable amount of “elbow grease” is required to get things completely sanitized. Once clean, they transfer each item to the metal drainer. After all plates have been cleaned and placed in the drainer, they empty the dishpan water and place the loaded drainer in it. Clean water is next poured over the dishes to remove any soap residue.

Now comes the most important step in the cleaning process. A couple pots of fresh water are heated on the stove and allowed to come to a boil. The scalding water is slowly and cautiously poured over everything in the drainer to destroy any remaining bacteria. Hot water quickly dries the plates, therefore eliminating the need for drying with a dishrag.

Now that the glasses, utensils and plates are clean, Mary and Jane take the dirty pots and pans to the kitchen where they are washed, dried and stored for the next meal. The young ladies conclude their routine chore by washing dishtowels, rinsing and drying the dishpan and dish drainer and putting everything in storage.

Research data from that era revealed that dishes washed only in cold water contained an abundance of bacteria; those washed in warm soapy water had fewer bacteria; the ones cleaned in hot soapy water and rinsed thoroughly with boiling water became essentially germ free. 

A helpful hint from the 1940s advised people to not wastefully dump in a large quantity of soap flakes or chips to the water in the dishpan. Instead, it recommended using a small amount of water in the pan and dissolving a modest quantity of soap in it. Another money saver was to accumulate small pieces of bar soap in a mesh strainer resembling a small corn popper and then dissolving them in the dishpan water.

Today, most homes have automated dishwashers that clean dishes in five easy steps: load the washer, add soap, close the door, push a button and unload it after it runs its full cycle. Oldsters can readily recall yesteryear when cleaning chores in the kitchen was long and laborious.