Georgia's landmarks, memorials and legends, Volume II, Part 19

Author: Knight, Lucian Lamar, 1868-1933
Publication date: 1913
Publisher: Atlanta, Ga. : Byrd Printing Co.
Number of Pages: 1274

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"''Not a bit,' said Bryan. 'I came to Chicago expecting to capture the convention by a speech and be nominated. It has worked out just as I expected. '

"I then asked Bryan if the cross-of-gold speech was extemporaneous, resulting from the inspiration of the moment. Bryan greeted the question with a hearty laugh.

"'There was nothing extemporaneous about it,' he said. 'I prepared that speech weeks in advance; memorized it so I could repeat it backward or forward and deelaimed it over and over again. Extemporaneous! No, indeed!' And Mr. Bryan continued to laugh. So you see the climax of

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the 1896 convention was as carefully rehearsed and staged as any prodne- tion ever presented by that master of stage-craft, David Belasco. By way of contrast, it is worth mentioning that Georgia, which did so much for Bryan in 1896 and 1900, had completely broken with him by 1908. In the latter year at the Denver convention, although Bryan controlled, he never received a vote from the Georgia delegation."

CHAPTER XXX

The Wren's Nest: Its Memories of Joel Chandler Harris

O N Saturday, May 23, 1914, with simple but im- pressive ceremonies, one of the most famous lit- erary Meccas of America was formally dedicated as a public memorial to the gentle author who here lived. It was the home of Joel Chandler Harris, honored and beloved the world over under the familiar name of "Uncle Remus." Several hundred people were gathered on the spacious lawn in front of the beautiful Harris home, to witness an event which for months had been anticipated with keenest interest, especially by Atlanta's army of children. "Snap Bean Farm" was the name which Mr. Harris gave to the plot of ground on which he built his home in West End; but the cosy little dwell- ing-place itself, wreathed with luxuriant vines, he called "The Wren's Nest." There was a world of tenderness locked up in this name, for no one ever surpassed Mr. Harris in his love for dumb creatures. The birds were his feathered friends. But there was one in particular, a little wren who built her nest in the vines above his front door; and from this circumstance arose the name by which the Harris home was ever afterwards known. He allowed no one to disturb the bird; and, so long as she chose to honor his home in this way, the nest in which she cradled her young was as sacred to him as an ark of the Temple.

Two of the largest contributors to the Uncle Remus Memorial Fund were former President Theodore Roose-

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velt and Mr. Andrew Carnegie, both of whom were warm personal admirers of Mr. Harris. The former devoted to this end the proceeds of a special lecture which he delivered in Atlanta, immediately following his return from the African jungles, in 1910, at which time, in a world-wide sense, he was the man of the hour; and the receipts from this lecture netted, in round numbers, $5,000. The latter, in fulfilment of a promise to duplicate whatever sum was realized from the Roosevelt lecture, promptly sent his check for a like amount. But when due credit is given to everyone who made a contribution, however great or small, it still remains that to the un- wearied efforts of the Uncle Remus Memorial Associa- tion, under the wise leadership of Mrs. A. McD. Wilson as president, the real success of the movement must be credited; and so long as the Wren's Nest endures as a memorial to Mr. Harris, it will be fragrant with the mem- ories of these gentle women.

We clip the following brief account of the exercises from a local newspaper :*

"For some months the Wren's Nest has been open to the public and thousands of persons who knew and loved Joel Chandler Harris, as well as hundreds who only knew him through his writings, have made the trip to West End to view the quaint cottage where the happiest hours of Uncle Remus were spent in the quiet of his family circle. Thousands have viewed the room where he slept and did his literary work, or sat in the shade of the broad veranda where in the cool of the evenings the gentle master of Snap Bean Farm was in the habit of watching the birds and the bees and the rabbits and other forms of animal or insect life, each one of which held some message for him which at some time or other he translated into classics which will be handed down to future genera- tions.

"But while the Wren's Nest has been the Mecca of many, it was not until Saturday that it was formally dedicated. Eloquent as were the speeches of Governor John M. Slaton, Colonel Frederic J. Paxon and Mrs. A. McD. Wilson, an even more cloquent tribute to the memory of the departed sage of Snap Bean Farm was the large crowd of little children who filled the grounds and overflowed the house and the spacious

*Atlanta Constitution, May 24, 1914.

- 1

THE WREN'S NEST:

Where the Famous "Uncle Remus" Stories were Written by Joel Chandler Harris, in West End, Atlanta, Ga.

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porches. All of them had heard the Uncle Remus stories, and the spirit of them-the mystery and the awe of the fabled creatures of Uncle Remus' fancy-seemed to pervade the little one. The home of Uncle Remus was to them almost holy ground. Many of them looked as if they expected to see Br'er Fox or Br'er B'ar or Miss Meaders and the Gals appear in the very flesh and confront them. It was a silent but an eloquent tribute to the memory of Joel Chandler Harris-one that would have touched his heart !

"Following the formal exercises and the unveiling of the bronze bas- relief of Joel Chandler Harris, presented to the Uncle Remus Memorial Association by Roger Noble Burnham, the annual May day festival, which has been a feature of the Wren's Nest for some four years, was held.

"Colonel F. J. Paxon acted as master of ceremonies, and Rev. Father Jackson, a close personal friend of Joel Chandler Harris, delivered an elo- quent invocation. Governor John M. Slaton, the principal speaker of the day, spoke next. Governor Slaton's tribute to Unele Remus was a literary gem. He seemed to have caught the spirit of Joel Chandler Harris and his words brought the departed author in closer touch with those who had known him in life. Detached excerpts from the speech would give but little idea of its beauty and tenderness.

"Colonel Paxon paid a high tribute to Mrs. A. McD. Wilson, president of the Uncle Remus Memorial Association, to whose untiring efforts the preservation of the home was made possible. Mrs. Wilson spoke briefly of the work of the association and told how, through tireless effort, the asso- ciation had at last been able to purchase the home and throw it open to the public. Following Mrs. Wilson's speech, the bas-relief of Joel Chandler Harris-a splendid likeness of the dead author-was unveiled."

Mr. Ivy Lee, now of Philadelphia, but formerly of West End, has given us an intimate appreciation of Unele Remus, with quite a number of charming glimpses into the author's home life at Snap Bean Farm. Says he :

It was at "Snap Bean Farm," a plot of ground in West End, about two miles from the center of Atlanta, that Joel Chandler Harris lived. He loved the place, its simplicity, its rural-like charm. Here he wrote his stories, using generally a lead pencil and the arm of a rocking-chair, on his wide front veranda. Here strangers visiting Atlanta came to see what manner of place it was. "We have no literary foolishness here," said Mr. Harris one day concerning Snap Bean Farm. "We like

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people more than we do books, and we find more in them." It was at Snap Bean Farm that Andrew Car- negie visited the author of Uncle Remus. Here, too, the children have grown up. Here Mr. Harris built houses for them when they married, and here his grand- children began to breathe an atmosphere of purity and wholesomeness. Here he died, and here now they talk of establishing a memorial to his memory: that men of future generations may come and see the same trees, flow- ers and haunts of birds which he so deeply enjoyed.

As the years went by, Mr. Harris did more and more of his work at Snap Bean Farm. He would come in town for the morning editorial conference at the Consti- tution office, and then return home to do his work. He saw few people, as a rule, and did but little traveling. However, a few years ago, he did go to Washington to see the President ; and he described his visit most charm- ingly for his magazine, in an article under the heading: "Mr. Billy Sanders, of Shady Dale-He Visits the White House." Before coming to Atlanta to live, in 1876, Mr. Harris, while in Savannah, married Miss Essie La Rose. Nine children blessed the union, of whom six are still living: Julian, who succeeded his father as editor of the Uncle Remus Magazine, a paper founded by the author shortly before his death ; Lucien, Evelyn, Joel Chandler, Jr., Essie, now Mrs. Fritz Wagner, and Mildred, now Mrs. Edwin Camp.

Joel Chandler Harris was making great strides on the Savannah News, when, in 1876, an epidemic of yellow fever swept the town. With his family he fled to Atlanta. Here Evan P. Howell gave the ambitious young journal- ist a place on the Constitution, and here he was to re- main continuously for more than twenty-five years. Up to this time Mr. Harris had never written in negro dia- lect. Sam W. Small, however, had made quite a hit with his "Old Si" stories; and, having been taken ill, or from

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some other cause, they were discontinued. Soon letters began to come in inquiring why "Old Si" was left out of the paper; and one day Captain Howell, in a most common-place way, said to Harris :

"Joe, why don't you try your hand at writing this sort of thing?"

Harris remonstrated, but Howell insisted. The next day there appeared in the columns of the Constitution the first of the Uncle Remus stories. Mr. Turner, on the old Eatonton plantation, had prepared the soil, Uncle George Terrell had sown the seed, Captain Howell brought forth the blossom. They were the same stories which other Southern boys had been hearing from in- fancy, but somehow with the new telling they seemed al- together different. It was art in action; and most of them were born at Snap Bean Farm. Though Mr. Harris seldom went away from home, his family occasionally took a summer outing, leaving Uncle Remus to hold the fort. Mr. Forrest Adair relates an interesting story of what took place on one of these occasions :

Uncle Remus was alone in his house working on an editorial, when a ring at the door disturbed him. He answered the bell, and a rather genteel-looking, middle-aged man saluted him, offering toilet soap for sale, at ten cents a cake, or three cakes for a quarter. Annoyed by the interruption, Harris said rather brusquely that he did not need any soap.

"But I am on the verge of starvation, " said the man.

"The idea," laughed Mr. Harris. "Why, you are wearing a better eoat than I have. "'

"You would not talk so, " he replied, in a tremulous voice, "if you had seen how hard my poor wife rubbed and brushed my coat this morn- ing so that I would present a decent appearance."

Harris then saw that the coat was old, almost threadbare, but exceed- ingly clean and neat. He glanced again at the man's face.

"Excuse me, " he said, "I was very busy when you called, and spoke thoughtlessly. Now that I think of it, I do need some soap. The fact is, I am completely out."

"Thank you," interrupted the man. "Here are three cakes for a quarter."

"Nonsense, " said Harris. "Here is a five-dollar bill. I will take it all out in soap. Have to have it-couldn't do without it-always buy it in five-dollar lots." The peddler left his stoek and delivered another lot

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later. It was a good day's work for him. This was just like Uncle Remus. Ile was always doing such things.

Mr. Harris repeatedly declined offers of large sums of money to ap- pear before audiences and to read selections from his own writings, like Mr. Riley and Mr. Page. But he was too modest. He replied that he could not do it if he were offered $100,000 an evening. Mr. Harris was the most timid of men. In the presence of strangers his tongue refused to act. But he accompanied Mr. Grady once to his old home in Eatonton, where the latter delivered one of his great speeches; and at its close some of the old neighbors of Mr. Harris called him out. It seemed that for once he would have to speak. But an idea struck him; he arose to his feet and remarked: "I have never been able to make a speech without taking a drink of water, so you must wait until I can get some water." Where- upon he left the platform and did not return. They laughed and cheered as he walked down the aisle, for they knew what it meant. The last year and a half of his life was devoted to the magazine which he established and edited .*

*Condensed from Memories of Joel Chandler Harris, edited by Ivy I. Lee.

CHAPTER XXXI

Stone Mountain: A Monolith of Prehistoric Times

I N SOME respects at least, there is not a landmark in America to compare with the gigantic boulder which towers to the north of the Georgia Railroad, in De- Kalb County, sixteen miles east of Atlanta-Stone Moun- tain. Rising out of a comparatively level and monoto- nous area of country, it is certainly unparalleled as a curiosity of nature, if not the largest solid mass of ex- posed rock on the Continent. It rises to an altitude of nearly two thousand feet above the sea, is between six and seven miles in circumference at the base, and towers above the surrounding plain like an Egyptian pyramid. If it be a spur of the Blue Ridge, there is nothing above ground to indicate it. On every side, the landscape, over which it commands an unbroken outlook, is perfectly level, though underneath it for miles there runs into the neighboring County of Rockdale a buried mass of gran- ite, which can be traced from the base of Stone Mountain to the region east of Lithonia. The character of the rock for building purposes is unsurpassed. It has been used extensively in paving streets and in rearing public struc- tures in various parts of the United States.

From the earliest times it has been a conspicuous ob- ject upon the horizon. Reared by no human agency, it suggests a memorial to the gods; and upon its rugged breast of adamant the lightnings alone have been power- ful enough to chisel an inscription. The Indians looked upon it with superstitious awe. Among the red men of

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the wilderness, it was a favorite place of meeting; and when Alexander McGillivray, the noted half-breed chief of the Creeks, started to New York to treat with the United States Government, in 1790, it was here that he met the subordinate chiefs who were to accompany him on the trip. By the early inhabitants of the State it was called Rock Mountain. Dr. Sherwood, who wrote the famous Gazeteer, was perhaps the first to depart from this custom. He called it Stone Mountain. At one time there was a tower erected upon the summit, but it long ago fell a prey to the storms. Further back still an an- cient wall encompassed the mountain, but not a trace of it remains. As a place of resort for holiday excur- sionists, Stone Mountain has long been popular, despite the tragic accidents which have sometimes occurred along the eastern declivities. To scientists it presents a curious study, if not a positive puzzle; and behind it there doubt- less lies the story of some tragic convulsion in prehis- toric times.

Long before there was a house built at Decatur there was a settlement at Stone Mountain. As early as 1825, a stage-coach line ran from Milledgeville to this place, com- ing by way of Eatonton and Madison. There is nothing to show that it ran to Decatur. In 1830, the Macon Tele- graph printed this item in regard to Rock Mountain : "About one-quarter of a mile from the top are seen the remains of an old fortification which formerly extended around the summit, and which was built to guard every approach leading thereto, the only entrance being through a natural passage under the loose rock, where only one person could enter at a time, by crawling upon all fours. The whole length of the wall at first was probably a mile, breast high on the inside. It consisted of loose fragments of rock." The account goes on to tell the pa- thetic story of two dogs, both of which were killed by falling over the precipitous slopes of the mountain. They

STONE MOUNTAIN:

The Greatest Solid Mass of Exposed Rock in the World.

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accompanied a party of hunters; and, while playing too near the edge of the cliff, they were drawn over the perilous point, one of them being instantly dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Not a whole bone was left in the dog's body. The other one caught at a jutting fragment of stone; but after howling piteously for two days became exhausted, relaxed his hold, and shared the fate of his companion. The article states still further that in 1788 the mountain was visited by a British officer, who found a fort on the extreme summit. But there is nothing in the account from which we quote to tell us by whom the structure was built.

William C. Richards, in 1842, published a book enti- tled : "Georgia Illustrated."* He was quite a noted au- "or in his day. The following account of a visit made by him to Rock Mountain will be of interest. It is in the nature of an important contribution to the history of this ancient landmark. Says he :

"We commenced the ascent with light and rapid steps, over the solid pathway. Before we were conscious of it, we had accomplished half the distance to the sum- mit, and entered a narrow wood which flourishes upon a considerable plain of soil. We lingered a while at the ruins of the hut. On the western view of the mountain the scenery is grand and imposing. This side of the mountain presents an almost uninterrupted surface of rock. It is not perpendicular, but exhibits rather a con- vex face deeply marked with furrows. During a shower of rain a thousand waterfalls poured down these channels, and it, as sometimes happens, the sun breaks forth in its splendor, the mimic torrents flash and sparkle in his beams.

"In the afternoon we reascended the mountain, ac- companied by the owner of the tower. This singular edi- fice, resembling somewhat a lighthouse, is an octagonal pyramid, built entirely of wood. It stands upon the rock

*Georgia Illustrated, pp. 3-6, Penfield, 1842.

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with no fastenings but its own gravity, and its height is 165 feet. It was built nearly three years ago at a cost of $5,000. The erection of a lofty tower upon the summit of a high mountain is certainly a unique and curious ex- ploit. The projector and proprietor is Mr. Aaron Cloud, of McDonough, and the work is commonly called Cloud's Tower. We ascended to the summit by nearly three hundred steps. The prospects we obtained were wide and beautiful, having the single fault of being rather too monotonous. The eyes rest upon a vast continuity of forest. The plantations and settlements appear small amid the sea of foliage. By the aid of good telescopes we distinguished five county towns. By way of parenthe- sis, I remark, that in 1847 I ascended this tower and took in view the surrounding territory. Among the towns I located was that of Atlanta, then a few straggling huts, just beyond Decatur.

"Among the curiosities of the mountain there are two which are deserving of notice. One is the 'cross- roads.' These are two crevices or fissures in the rock, which cross each other nearly at right angles. They com- mence as mere cracks, increasing in width and depth of five feet at their intersection. Another is the ruins of a fortification, which once surrounded the crown of the mountain. When, or by whom, it was erected is unknown. The Indians say that it was there before the time of their fathers. In this connection occurs the suggestion that Fernando DeSoto landed in Florida about 1539 with 600 men and 200 horses. He passed his second winter in what is now known as a part of Georgia, among the Chicka- saws. At that time the Chickasaws occupied the country which is now Stone Mountain. Tradition also informs us that many years before Columbus came to America, a number of persons from Wales passed a winter in Georgia and made potash."

We are indebted to an article by Dr. R. J. Massey for the following item. Says he: "As early as July 4, 1828,

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a number of visitors celebrated the day with a dinner on the top of this mountain. Among other performances, a poem entitled: "Spirits of '76," was delivered. Long after the completion of the Georgia Railroad to Atlanta, Stone Mountain retained its prominence as a pleasure resort and as a center of travel. There was a line of stage coaches which ran daily from the mountain to Dah- lonega, passing through Lawrenceville and Gainesville. At this time, in very important matters, Stone Mountain was a place of gathering, preferred even to Atlanta. The Georgia Agricultural Society originated at this moun- tain in the early fifties of the last century, when such men as Mark A. Cooper and David J. Bailey and others like them were summering at this point. Here they con- ceived and organized the State Fair, which for years thereafter was held at Stone Mountain." White tells us in his Statistics that as an object of interest to sight- seers there were few spectacles, either in this country or abroad, to surpass this old landmark; and from what other writers say we are led to believe that Stone Moun- tain, during the early days of the last century, was the most popular resort in Georgia. Thousands of people visited the place annually, some of them coming from remote parts of the State and some from distant sections of the South. With a trolley-line now connecting it with Atlanta the ancient glories of Stone Mountain may be revived.

Just as this work goes to press, there is a movement under way to chisel into the living rock of Stone Moun- tain, on the precipitous side, looking toward the North, a colossal statue of Robert E. Lee; and, if this startling proposition is ever put into effect it may result in a work of art which will rank, among the wonders of the world. The magnitude of the proposed statue, its eleva- tion above surrounding objects, its durability, its color, these all commend it as an inspirational idea; and with the Atlanta spirit behind it, re-enforced by the tremen- dous leverage of a great metropolitan newspaper, the ul-

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timate success of the movement can be predicted with confidence. On Sunday, June 14, 1914, Hon. Jolm Temple Graves, editor of the New York American, published in the Atlanta Georgian a ringing editorial upon this sub- ject, the effect of which upon the popular mind of the South has been fairly electrical. Said Colonel Graves, in part:

"To the veterans of the dead Confederacy, to the daughters and sons, and to all who revere the memories of that historie and immortal struggle, I bring today the suggestion of a great memorial, perfectly simple, per- fectly feasible, and which if realized will give to the Confederate soldier and his memories the most majestic monument, set in the most magnificent frame in all the world. Just now, while the loyal devotion of this great people of the South is considering a general and enduring monument to the great cause 'fought without shame and lost without dishonor,' it seems to me that nature and Providence have set the immortal shrine right at our doors.

"I will not build up to the proposition. I will state it briefly-bluntly- directly. It will speak for itself-more eloquently than words can speak.

"Stone Mountain is distinctly one of the wonders of the world. Its glories have never been fully appreciated or utilized by the people who see it every day. It is a mountain of solid granite one mile from its summit to its base., Much of Atlanta has been builded from it, and there is enough left to build ten more Atlantas without touching the lofty spot that is nearest to the sun.

"On the steep side of Stone. Mountain, facing northward, there is a sheer declivity that rises or falls from 900 to 1,000 feet.

"Here, then, is Nature's matchless plan for a memorial. On this steep side let those who love the Southern dead combine to have the engineers cut a projection 30 feet wide and 100 feet deep. Into this projection and as high as it may be made let us ask Lorado Taft, the republic 's great seulp- tor, to chisel a heroie statue, 70 feet high, of the Confederate soldier in the nearest possible resemblance to Robert E. Lee. Let him chisel also the insignia of the Confederate uniform, of which the gray stone is the natural base.

"And there-twelve hundred feet above the plain-let us place the old gray granite hat upon that noble head, with its grand eyes turned toward Atlanta-Phoebus and Phoenix-holocaust and miracle of the Civil War- and from this Godlike eminence let our Confederate hero calmly look history and the future in the face!

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Georgia's landmarks, memorials and legends, Volume II, Part 19

Author: Knight, Lucian Lamar, 1868-1933 Publication date: 1913 Publisher: Atlanta, Ga. : Byrd Printing Co. Number of Pages: 1274

Author: Knight, Lucian Lamar, 1868-1933
Publication date: 1913
Publisher: Atlanta, Ga. : Byrd Printing Co.
Number of Pages: 1274