Category: Architecture

The background: Following the publication of G.L. Norrman‘s previous letter about the “model jail”, The Atlanta Journal solicited a response from Forrest Adair of the Fulton County Commission.

“I have not read Mr. Norrman’s card and do not intend to,” Adair claimed, adding: “The plans are not submitted for his approval and it is not desired.” Adair referenced Norrman’s harsh criticism of the Boys High School designs by GoLucke & Stewart, and also noted that Norrman was “very caustic in his criticism” of Bradford L. Gilbert, another sham architect who designed the Cotton States Exposition and English-American Building in Atlanta.

“I do not suppose Mr. Gilbert is losing any sleep over it”, Adair remarked, concluding that: “It seems to be a habit of Mr. Norrman’s and I do not see that we need to worry about his criticism in this case.”

In response, Norrman wrote another letter to the Journal, published on November 24, 1896, in an article titled “The Lively Jail Question”. Here Norrman admitted to his remarks on Gilbert, and alluded to his precarious financial state at the time, mentioning almost offhandedly that property he owned was being sold for taxes.

Indeed, Atlanta and the Southeast were in the throes of the Panic of 1896, and an undeveloped lot that Norrman had previously purchased in Inman Park was sold by the city marshal that same month for delinquent taxes.

“There are a great many beside myself in that fix”, Norrman stated, and he wasn’t wrong: a listing of properties sold for taxes in November 1896 spanned 11 pages in the Journal.

Norrman mocked Adair as “the supreme and mighty ruler of the county” and insinuated that his future political chances might be in jeopardy, but Adair — one of the most wealthy and influential men in Atlanta’s history — was re-elected to the county commission the following year.

Wilkins’ jail was completed in fall 1898, with the total cost exceeding $200,000. Jail officials began immediately complaining about its poor design and shoddy construction quality, and just weeks after opening, 4 prisoners escaped from the structure.

Adair and the county commissioners blamed the jailbreak on the sheriff, John W. Nelms, who in turn blamed the jail’s design, noting that there had never been an escape from the old facility.

“The jail is built something on the order of a hotel”, Nelms complained to The Atlanta Journal. “It is scattered over a large area, and in such a way that even with a guard to work every floor there is time for prisoners to work.”

Needless to say, Norrman’s objections were valid.

Norrman’s remarks:

To the Editor ofThe Journal.

My business is not only that of an architect, but also that of an architectural critic, and I am so taken and accepted by all thorough and regularly educated architects, as well as by people of culture in general.

Besides the criticism which Mr. Adair refers to, I have written many others. Sometimes I write because I am paid for it, sometimes because I think it will be interesting to my profession to know what is going on, sometimes I write because it is interesting to myself.

My reason for writing a description of “A Model Jail” in Saturday’s Journal was the very apathy which Mr. Adair speaks of, from which I think that he and everyone connected with the erection of the new jail should be aroused.

For a set of men who are entrusted with public funds to spend them so recklessly and carelessly, even if there is no individual gain at the bottom of it, and “lose no sleep over the matter” is not fair to the taxpayers of the county. Those whose property is being sold for taxes, and there are a great many beside myself in that fix, lose a great deal of sleep over the matter.

I know perfectly well that Mr. Adair is the supreme and mighty ruler of the county, and there is no way of stopping the erection of such an expensive monstrosity as the “Model Jail,” unless the grand jury takes a hand in the matter (in which case Mr. Wilkins will have no “merit” to stand on).

While Mr. Adair is not losing any sleep over the matter now, he may when the next election comes round, and I think that the people who are sold out for taxes will be awake also.

Those who are not familiar with architecture could not possibly know how badly they are taken in unless their attention is called to it by some architect, so I hope you will pardon me for taking up so much of your valuable space about this matter.

G.L. NORRMAN

The background: G.L. Norrman‘s string of public disputes continued in 1896, when the Fulton County Commission in Atlanta wanted to build a new county jail, engaging in an overlong and convoluted selection process that was chock full of corruption and cronyism.

Norrman’s history with the project began in 1892, when the commission asked him to draw plans for the renovation and expansion of the existing jail, dropping the idea within a matter of weeks.

The old jail, overcrowded and in severe disrepair, was still being used in April 1896, when the county commission requested plans for a new jail designed by Grant Wilkins, a local engineer who also billed himself as an architect. Wilkins was a favorite of the Atlanta political machine and a thoroughly incompetent designer.

Wilkins’ first plans for the jail were scrapped when the commission decided to change the location of the new facility, holding an open competition in May 1896 for “a model jail”, in which 5 local architects — Norrman was not one of them — submitted plans, with Wilkins acting as an “adviser”.

It appears that the open competition was simply for show, as the commission rejected each of the plans for being too expensive to build. The commission then suddenly decided that the jail could cost no more than $150,000, and handed the contract for the design back to Grant Wilkins.

In June 1896, Norrman informally presented his own plans to C.A. Collier, chairman of the Fulton County Commission, which he stated could be built for less than $150,000. Norrman had refused to submit plans in the competition because the commission had decided that Wilkins would act as supervising architect for the project regardless of the designer, and Norrman wanted to supervise the construction of the building himself.

In July 1896, Norrman and 4 other local architects — including his rivals GoLucke & Stewart — jointly submitted a formal protest against the commission for their selection of Wilkins. Norrman requested that the commission reopen the competition, but the motion was voted down.

In September 1896, Wilkins completed his plans for the “model jail”, with an estimated cost, incidentally, of nearly $170,000. The plans were available for public inspection, and Norrman obviously took advantage of the opportunity. The November 21, 1896 issue of The Atlanta Journal published the following letter from Norrman, in which he gave a thorough and scathing analysis of Wilkins’ design, repeatedly mocking the “model jail” (he used the phrase a total of 15 times).

Norrman’s remarks:

To the Editor ofThe Journal:

“I have just seen the drawings of “A Model Jail” and of all the curious structures that I have ever seen, “A Model Jail” is the most curious. When I first saw the name I thought it was a hoax gotten up by some charlatan to advertise himself, but when I heard that the chairman of the building committee of the proposed jail, the superintendent, a doctor, a lawyer, and a dentist, all of them honorable men, and good Christian gentlemen (in fact, we have none but Christian gentlemen in this country and in Europe, except some Jewish gentlemen, and in Turkey, where there are some Mohammedan gentlemen) had really started out to hunt “A Model Jail”.

I was sure that there must be something of that sort somewhere, only I had never heard of it, or else, that it was a practical joke, gotten up by some wag, who thought that it was too old a gag to take them out snipe-hunting, as they may have caught on to the joke, or he may have thought it too cruel a trick to get off on anybody, as in snipe-hunting the parties who do the hunting have to hold the bag, and in hunting “A Model Jail” the public have to hold it.

But sure enough they found “A Model Jail,” and on their return were prepared to tell any architect who wished to design “A Model Jail” all about it.

The description was somewhat obscure as to the appointments of “A Model Jail,” but what was particularly required in “A Model Jail,” besides the cells, is reception rooms, vestibules, reception hall, and all sorts of halls, and that is what we are really going to have. In fact, we are going to have more halls than anything else. Two-thirds of the building is nothing but halls. We are going to have front halls, and back halls, side halls, zig-zag halls, up-and-down halls, dark halls, light halls, ventilated halls, and unventilated halls, and a very large haul on the public exchequer.

As I said before, “A Model Jail” is a curious structure. Its appearance is somewhat in the style of a Mosque, with the crescents left off of the top of the minarets. It has some appointments that are necessary in a jail, some that are not unnecessary, and some necessary appointments it has not at all, but it has a perfect labyrinth of halls arranged somewhat on the plan of the Catacombs, but I think that when the attendants get accustomed to the building, they will find their way to each compartment without a guide.

I know that it is considered in bad taste for an architect to express himself about any building, and that it is rank heresy for anybody to doubt the competency of a building committee to judge not only of “A Model Jail,” but of a courthouse, or any other building for which they are appointed. One might as well doubt the competency of Sir Joseph to rule the Queen’s navy after scrubbing the front door knobs so successfully, as to doubt the competency of a building committee to judge of architecture, where each and every one has made a success of the cotton business, law business, reforming business, philanthropy business, or any other business. (This is an age of business.) So I do not for a moment mean to criticize the building committee: I simply think that the public may be interested in knowing that “A Model Jail” is one of the most unique buildings in this or any other country.

As there has been some talk to the effect that Mr. Wilkins, who was the expert at the recent competition for the new jail, had possibly gotten his idea from the architects who submitted plans, I would state that, in my opinion, he has not. I think that his plans for “A Model Jail” are entirely original, unless they were suggested by some one who was interested in giving the county the least room for the most money.

If the designs had been taken from an architect’s plans, the appointments of the hospital in the jail would have been entirely different. Baths and lavatories would have been provided for each ward, and appointments would have been made for nurses and a dispensary, rooms would have been provided for a matron and her help. There would very likely have been appointments made for persons who were detained without being strictly criminals.

If an architect had designed the building, the specifications would have been definite. As it is there are about fifty places in which the materials are to be approved by the superintendent without it being definitely stated what they are to be.

This, however, may be premeditated, as there are so many places in which expensive material is specified, which are handled only by persons who own the patents, and on which there could be no competition, but which could be easily substituted with an advantage to the building and a saving of about $50,000 (if the right man got the job), by substituting such material as is made by many firms.

It may be possible that the letting of the construction of the building will be carried on in the same spirit in which the architectural competition was carried on, and in that case the specification as it stands is a model document.

It may be remembered that the plans which were submitted by the architects in the so-called competition had four hundred cells, as was then required, and would have cost $150,000 to $300,000, while the proposed “Model Jail” has only one hundred and ninety cells all told, and the bids are likely to run from $200,000 to $300,000.

I doubt if any bids will come inside of $200,000 unless the building is unloaded from material on which there is a monopoly.

But even at this figure, there is considerable of a discrepancy between the cost of a jail designed by an architect and “A Model Jail” with all its hallways.

This, I think, will prove that any suggestion that Mr. Wilkins has taken his idea for “A Model Jail” from an architect is entirely without foundation.

G.L. NORRMAN

The background: Long an artful dodger when it came to details of his personal life, here, G.L. Norrman wrote his own autobiographical sketch while essentially saying nothing at all.

The sketch appeared in the 1895 publication The Cotton States and International Exposition and South, Illustrated.

Mr. G.L. Norrman (Architect),
Atlanta, Ga.

“I was born in Sweden in about the same manner as all other Swedes. Nothing of any note happened at the event. Everything went along in much the same manner as the day before.

The only sensation that my coming into this world created was a little stir among some old aunts and other lady friends of the family, who found it difficult to decide whom I looked like, but they finally came to the conclusion that I resembled my great-grandmother. I suppose that they came to this decision on account of my being bald-headed, wrinkled in the face, and of a very unsettled disposition.

A very charming young lady solicited my picture for this volume, and assured me that it would be a most excellent means for securing business, and she told me that the public was not only interested in my appearance, but was greatly interested in knowing all about me, and the publishers were interested fifteen dollars’ worth. So, in giving an account of myself, I thought I would be very explicit, and would begin with the beginning.

Nothing of any moment has occurred since. I have been engaged in my profession for many years. I hope that the public will pardon me for not stating how long, as I am still a bachelor, and hope that if my picture does not bring me any business it will call the young ladies’ attention to the opportunity of securing a most exemplary husband, and if they knew how long I had been in business they might not be so greatly interested.

At any rate, I have been in business long enough to have had considerable experience, and if anyone is interested in one way or another, let me know, and I’ll give a more detailed account of myself.”

Hiding in plain sight in Atlanta’s Inman Park neighborhood, the C. D. Hurt House isn’t conspicuous, nor does it appear especially significant.

Located at 36 Delta Place NE, this rambling 2-story, eclectic-style home is primarily Colonial Revival in influence, with its wood shingles, steep gables, overhanging second floor, and assortment of oddly-shaped windows recalling the vernacular designs of coastal New England architecture.

It’s good to have a little doubt when attributing buildings to architects, but in this case, there’s no need: the home can be indisputably credited to G.L. Norrman.

Often erroneously dated to 1891 or 1892, the home was built in 1893, based on an April 1893 report from The Atlanta Constitution¹ and another from The Atlanta Journal in May 1893² — both stated that the home was then in the course of construction.

Dr. Charles D. Hurt was the brother of Joel Hurt, president of the East Atlanta Land Company, which owned and developed the Inman Park suburb. Norrman appears to have been Joel Hurt’s preferred architect at the time, completing as many as 8 projects for his companies and family in the late 1880s and early 1890s, so he would have been an obvious choice to design the home.

The Design

Beyond circumstantial evidence, the Hurt house can be handily attributed to Norrman based on specific elements that it shares with 2 residences designed by his firm in the same period: the R.O. Barksdale House (1893) in Washington, Georgia, which still exists, and the Paul Romare House in Atlanta (1892, demolished).

Similarities between the Hurt House and the Barksdale House:

• The facades of both houses feature a prominent bay with 2 windows on the second floor and a Palladian window on the first, topped by a hip roof.
• Both houses share the same chimney designs, slightly tapered at the top, with distinctive dentilled string courses.
• Both houses originally featured a tall, exposed chimney on the front porch as a central focal point.
• Both houses include porches with dentilled cornices and Norrman’s trademark Tuscan columns.

Similarities between the Hurt House and the Romare House:

• Both houses were topped with a steeply pitched hip roof.
• Both houses included an oval window, also featured in Norrman’s design for the Thomas W. Latham House in Inman Park.
• Both houses included an exposed chimney as a focal point, each embedded with the same classically styled niche (illustrated below)

Similarities between the Hurt House and other Norrman projects:

• The Hurt house’s dormer windows are of the same design as those on the Edward C. Peters House (1883) in Atlanta, a confirmed Norrman work, and the Atlanta & Edgewood Street Railway Shed (1889), also located in Inman Park and attributed to Norrman.
• The Hurt house’s second-floor bay window is the same used in the Atlanta & Edgewood Railway Shed, attributed to Norrman.

An Evolution

Although fairly unremarkable in appearance, the Hurt house represents a major shift in Norrman’s residential designs.

In the 1880s and early 1890s, many of Norrman’s larger home plans included a rear service wing that contained the kitchen and servants’ quarters — a prime example can be seen in the W.W. Duncan House in Spartanburg, South Carolina (1886, pictured below).

The service wing was visually distinct from the main house and was typically capped with a low-slung hip roof, denoting its modest, utilitarian status.

For the Hurt house, the hip-roofed wing was moved from the back to the front, the first time this appears to have been implemented in one of Norrman’s plans. It was a bold and avant-garde choice, signalling a shift in taste toward less fussy and unpretentious styles that took hold in the 1890s.

Norrman produced refined versions of the design into the 20th century, including the W.L. Reynolds House (1897, pictured below) and the Leon D. Lewman House (1901, demolished, pictured below) in Atlanta.

By the late 1890s, Norrman fully embraced lower roof lines, but in the Hurt house, the main portion of the structure still included a fantastically high roof — undoubtedly topped with decorative finials — a holdover from his 1880s work.

The Hurt house’s 13-room floor plan evolved from the plan used in Norrman’s design for the John T. Taylor House (1892) in Americus, Georgia.

The Taylor house appears to have been planned on a simple four-square grid, with the entry room and stairway occupying the lower left quadrant. In the Hurt house, however, the introduction of the front wing meant the entry room and stairwell had to be pushed slightly back, opening up space for an additional room to the left of the front door.

Otherwise, the plans for the two houses are largely identical, right down to the separate exterior entrance in each master bedroom.

A Question of Credit

I suspect much of the Hurt house was designed by one or more of Norrman’s employees, possibly C. Walter Smith, Norrman’s longtime draughtsman and later chief assistant.

Smith began working for Norrman in 1887, remaining as a draughtsman for over 5 years, before he left to start his own practice in March 1893.⁴ Smith returned to Norrman’s employment within a year as his chief assistant,⁵ but left to start his business again in April 1896,⁶ working independently until 1907.

Based on his few surviving works, Smith was not an exceptional designer on his own: he clearly lacked whatever combination of ingredients made Norrman such an outstanding architect. However, it appears that Norrman likely delegated many of his residential projects to Walter Smith in the 1890s.

The Constitution all but said as much in 1896, when Smith embarked on his second solo attempt:

“The work that he did even before he branched out for himself had gained for him a distinction that few people have won in a lifetime,” the newspaper noted. “Mr. Smith has designed and superintended the construction of many of the most elegant residences in the city…”⁷

If you compare a typical Norrman residence from the 1880s to one from the 1890s, it’s clear that the latter projects didn’t receive nearly as much of his attention.

Norrman’s career reached its commercial and creative peak between 1890 and 1893, and he increasingly spent much of his time crossing the Southeastern United States by train, securing commissions, and attending to building projects.

With a packed schedule and an office full of assistants, Norrman undoubtedly began focusing most of his attention on large-scale or prestige commissions: the Windsor Hotel (1892) in Americus, Georgia, for instance, or the J.C. Simonds House (1893) in Charleston, South Carolina.

Because Walter Smith left to form his practice when the Hurt house was under construction, it’s also possible that he started the project, and another assistant was tasked with completing it, which could explain the uneven design.

W.L. Stoddart, for instance, was also employed by Norrman in 1893, still fresh from his training at Columbia University. When Norrman hired him in March 1892, the Journal claimed Stoddart would be his chief assistant,⁸ although he was listed as a draughtsman in city directories.⁹

Every architect’s approach is different, but Norrman may have roughed out the preliminary plans for the project, leaving a draughtsman or assistant to fill in the details, while lending just enough of his finesse to claim the design as his own.

A Messy Composition

If Norrman didn’t give the Hurt design much scrutiny, that might explain its frankly sloppy configuration: the 3 bay windows of varying sizes on the north side, for example, and the hodge-podge of incongruent elements borrowed from other projects.

Part of the imbalance can be explained by the home’s vernacular inspiration, but that doesn’t excuse its incoherent composition. Stand on one side of the Hurt house, and it looks like a completely different home from the other. The design feels clunky, slapdash, and pure kitchen sink, as if everything but was thrown into it.

It should be noted that Norrman also disliked the then-fashionable Colonial style, stating in 1890 that it had “at best, a number of absurdities”, and that “there are few who carry the style out well”. As a designer who excelled in the Romanesque and preferred the classical, he may have been admitting to his own lack of proficiency in the style.

Despite the Hurt house’s shortcomings, it’s entirely characteristic of Norrman’s 1893 residential designs, which stand out in his oeuvre as especially freewheeling and audacious. He was the most celebrated and sought-after architect in the Southeast at that point, and clearly felt emboldened to take risks.

When the risk-taking worked, the results were spectacular: the Simonds House, for example. When it didn’t? Well, you can see the results here.

Construction and History

The Hurt House’s history is as messy as its design, chock-full of the sort of macabre and pathetic tales one expects from an Atlanta home.

A Whole Lotta Hurt

C. D. Hurt and his family moved to the city from Columbus, Georgia, in October 1892.^{10 11} Until their own “elegant and roomy residence”¹² was completed, the Hurts temporarily lived in the spec house at 56 Euclid Avenue¹³ (now 882 Euclid Avenue NE), which Norrman designed for the East Atlanta Land Company in 1890.

Curiously, while Hurt’s home was still being built in April 1893, it was also the site of a wedding for his niece, Lucy Hurt McTyere.¹⁵

Hurt had 5 children with his wife, Mary, although it appears only his daughters Louise and Maude still lived with them in 1893, when he was 50 and she was 46.

Hurt worked as a medical surgeon and opened an office in Atlanta’s Equitable Building,¹⁶ which his brother owned. He was also on the payroll of his brother’s street railway company as a “medical advisor” — with whatever legitimate duties that must have entailed — in addition to being a staff member at Grady Memorial Hospital and the Atlanta School of Medicine.^{17 18}

There have been claims that Hurt operated his office from his home, but that appears to be inaccurate based on city directories and newspaper reports.

Hurt’s daughter Louise was married in January 1895, and the reception was held at the Hurt house.^{19 20} Assuming it was a happy occasion, the wedding was a singular bright spot preceding a long line of tragedies in the home:

• On July 5, 1896, Hurt’s 8-month-old grandson, Charles, died in the home after a bout with malaria.²¹
• On July 19, 1898, Hurt’s youngest daughter, Maude, died in the home at 6:45 p.m., following a 10-day illness.²² Only 17 years old, Maude’s death was described by the Constitution as “one of the saddest deaths that have clouded this city in years…”²³
• In September 1899, Charles and Joel Hurt’s brother, E.F. Hurt, died on an extended visit from New York, and his funeral was held in the Hurt house.²⁴
• After a 2-year illness, Mary Hurt died on October 22, 1902, “when death crept softly into the home”, according to the Journal. ^{25 26} Poetic, no?
• Wasting little time, C.D. Hurt married his second wife, Annie Louise Miller, in Hendersonville, North Carolina, on October 6, 1903. Annie was described as an “accomplished and attractive young woman”, ²⁷ and the couple had an unnamed infant son when Hurt himself died in the home on August 12, 1906, following an 8-month illness.^{28 29}

After collecting on Hurt’s $15,000 life insurance policy,³⁰ his accomplished and attractive young wife seemingly disappeared from Atlanta, and the home was presumably sold, ending the Hurts’ run of the house after 13 years.

Dwindling Fortunes

Never the prestigious enclave Joel Hurt intended it to be, Inman Park had become quite passe by the early 1900s.

Most of Atlanta’s prominent citizens continued to build their mansions on Peachtree Street, migrating further north of the city each year. Ansley Park was quickly becoming the fashionable new residential section, mostly because of its proximity to Peachtree Street.

The Inman Park residences designed by Norrman and other architects in the previous decade were already quaint relics of another era. With the United States emerging from a years-long financial depression, even the wealthy preferred more subdued home designs, and the gaudy mansions of the Gilded Age were seen as oversized, ostentatious, and out of fashion.

Inman Park’s original homes had spent most of their lives vacant or on the market — scan newspaper classified ads from the 1890s and early 1900s, and you’ll consistently find listings for “good as new” Inman Park homes for sale or rent, often reduced in price.

The remaining lots in Inman Park were auctioned off en masse by the East Atlanta Land Company in 1904,³¹ and the neighborhood was filled out with mostly smaller, cheaper houses over the next decade.

As the Journal deftly noted in 1908: “The Inman Park of the present time…has almost forgotten the story of its origin–which now seems like ancient history…”³²

Life As a Boarding House

The large, antiquated Inman Park houses were really only viable as rental properties, so it’s no surprise that in December 1907, newspaper classifieds began requesting boarders for the former Hurt house. Terse but descriptive, the first ads touted: “Beautiful views, splendid board, country air, not far out.”³³

A January 1908 ad sought “Two or three young men for large front room; also couple for beautiful room”,³⁴ while an October 1908 ad noted the home’s “Suite beautiful rooms, with private bath…”³⁵

In November 1908, ads described “Four connecting rooms, unfurnished…private entrance”,³⁶ which likely referred to the home’s original master bedroom. In 1909, the entire house was listed for rent by Edwin P. Ansley‘s real estate agency for $50 a month.³⁷

On March 25, 1909, a 68 mph “hurricane” ripped across Atlanta, cutting a path from West End through Downtown to Inman Park. In a lengthy list of damaged buildings, the Journal reported that “In Inman Park at Edgewood avenue and Delta Place a chimney was blown down.”³⁸

This may have been the tall chimney at the front of the house, which was removed at some point in the structure’s history. A photograph from the 1970s shows that a chunk of one chimneystack was also missing, possibly a result of the same storm.

In February 1910, the home was owned by C. Horace McCall when a “daring porch climber” broke the window of a second-floor bathroom.

“Mrs. Turner“, apparently a boarder in the house, screamed upon hearing the shattered window, scaring off the intruder. The Constitution noted ominously that “A dark shadow was seen in the distance…but no clews [sic] were obtained.”

The report added: “This section of the city has been infested with burglars recently, and several citizens have made complaint of inadequate police protection.”³⁹

In July 1918, McCall and his wife still lived in the home when thieves robbed their backyard hen house, swiping their entire collection, including 20 “frying-size chickens”. The stolen property totalled $30.⁴⁰

Mrs. McCall died in the house on February 28, 1923,⁴¹ and it appears the property was sold shortly thereafter. In July 1924, another infant died in the home: the son of two boarders, Mr. and Mrs. J.B. McMillam.

By the 1920s, Atlanta had rapidly grown past Inman Park’s borders, and the former suburb was fully absorbed into the city. One mile northeast of the neighborhood, Druid Hills opened in 1908 (Norrman designed its first home), and many of Inman Park’s prominent residents — notably members of the Candler family — migrated to the outlying development for the next several years.

As Inman Park fell into decades-long decline, the old Hurt home passed through a succession of owners, always operating as a boarding house, and apparently attracting the caliber of people one associates with such establishments. A few incidents from those years are intriguing:

• In 1925, the house was owned by the estate of the late John W. White when a 36-year-old boarder, Mrs. W.T. Hooks, was arrested for attempted arson. On May 4 of that year, fire crews were called to the home at 4 a.m., where they found a burning pile of kindling wood in Hooks’ closet, with Hooks “fully dressed and all her trunks completely packed”. The state accused Hooks of attempting to burn down the home for insurance money, but she was acquitted of the charges in June 1925.^{42 43 44 45 46}
• In 1929, a 31-year-old occupant of the home named T.M. Bates was treated at Grady Memorial Hospital for wounds received from a “vicious rat” that reportedly bit Bates twice as he was going to sleep, after which he “jumped on top of a dresser to escape further injury”.⁴⁷
• In January 1931, Fanny Jolly operated the boarding house when “the careless handling of an oil lamp” led to a fire breaking out in the kitchen, causing the home’s 11 occupants to “flee in their night clothing”. One boarder was knocked unconscious when he jumped 15 feet from his second-story window, while another received severe cuts on his legs from crawling out a different window.^{48 49}

In 1945, W.A. and Gertrude Croft bought the home from Harry Beerman.⁵⁰ Real estate ads described the home as an “excellent rooming house” and “convenient to stores and cars”, concluding rather cynically that “This is a money-maker”.⁵¹

This may have been when the home received its most significant alterations. In August 1946, classified ads from the address listed a “Monarch coal cook stove, gas cook stove…2 practically new glass paneled doors, 2 used windows” for sale.⁵² Sounds like they were tearing the place up, doesn’t it?

An image from the 1970s (pictured below) shows that at some point, the home’s front porch had been partially filled in and screened, rooms had been clumsily added to the porch roof, and original windows were moved and replaced. I suspect those alterations could be attributed to the Crofts.

Inman Park was in the nascent stages of a rebirth in the 1970s, when affluent young professionals began restoring its old homes and joined forces to quash a proposed interstate highway that would have cut through the heart of the neighborhood.

Rundown and crime-ridden, “most people avoided the area”, the Constitution said in 1975, and not everyone was convinced the neighborhood was worth saving.⁵⁴

A skeptical article from 1971 described Inman Park as “a festering little carbuncle on the hide of big old Atlanta”, with residents detailing the precarious condition of the area. One homeowner stated:

“If you’ve got a sense of humor, it’s a great place to live. Over here, when people shoot guns they usually aim into the ceiling. There’s a lot of drug traffic in the neighborhood with the kids. They are very wise, like New York street children. I took one little girl to Grady while she was on a bad LSD trip. She was in the middle of the street screaming and everybody else was afraid to do anything. Hard drugs are apparently very available.”⁵⁵

Little wonder that the old Hurt house remained a target for crime — in January 1975, the home was burglarized again, with the thief swiping a tape recorder, clock, liquor, and 8 cartons of cigarettes.⁵⁶

Despondency seems to have been the way of life in the home, and in August 1976, a 47-year-old boarder at the address died in the most Atlanta way possible: jumping from the top of the Hyatt Regency atrium.⁵⁷

Return to Form

In 1981, the home was once again listed for sale, remaining on the market for nearly 2 years under two different agencies.

A succession of real estate advertisements sounded increasingly desperate, first promoting the house as “Single family OR townhouse. Partially restored. Clean & livable” with “POOL & wine cellar”. ⁵⁸ Later ads proclaimed the home had “suburban amenities”.⁵⁹

An ad for an open house breathlessly hyped: “13 Fireplaces, antique brass & beveled glass, arches, millwork & pocket doors!”⁶⁰ Norrman always did like pocket doors.

A May 1982 ad claimed that “Practical people will love the close-in convenient location and the fact that it can be used for rental units.”⁶¹ That was oddly out of step with the changing character of the neighborhood, however — it wasn’t practical people who were buying in Inman Park at that point, but those invested in its resurgent vision.

By the 1990s, Inman Park had completed its dramatic revitalization, drawing national acclaim, and the Hurt house finally returned to its intended use as a private dwelling.

The home has been fully renovated, with the mid-20th-century accretions on the front removed, and the porch and facade returned to a reasonable facsimile of its original appearance.

Inman Park is now one of the most exclusive and desirable neighborhoods in intown Atlanta, with homes like the Hurt house valued in the millions. More than a century after its conception, Joel Hurt’s development is finally a success.

And as for his brother’s house — well, it’s more significant than it appears.

References

1. “City Notes.” The Atlanta Constitution, April 2, 1893, p. 23. ↩︎
2. “Flowers Are A-Blooming.” The Atlanta Journal, May 5, 1893, p. 3. ↩︎
3. “New Lewman Residence On Peachtree Place.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 6, 1901, p. 5. ↩︎
4. “A Card”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 1, 1893, p. 10. ↩︎
5. Atlanta City Directory Co.’s Greater Atlanta (Georgia) city directory (1894) ↩︎
6. “Out For Himself.” The Atlanta Constitution, April 19, 1896, p. 20. ↩︎
7. ibid. ↩︎
8. “A Trifle Gossipy.” The Atlanta Journal, March 25, 1892, p. 1. ↩︎
9. Atlanta City Directory Co.’s Greater Atlanta (Georgia) city directory (1893) ↩︎
10. “Personal Mention.” The Atlanta Journal, September 12, 1892, p. 1. ↩︎
11. “Senator Gordon.” The Atlanta Journal, September 24, 1892, p. 1. ↩︎
12. “Flowers Are A-Blooming.” The Atlanta Journal, May 5, 1893, p. 3. ↩︎
13. Atlanta City Directory Co.’s Greater Atlanta (Georgia) city directory (1893) ↩︎
14. Marr, Christine V. and Sharon Foster Jones. Inman Park. Arcadia Publishing: Charleston, South Carolina, 2008. ↩︎
15. “Society”. The Atlanta Journal, April 19, 1893, p. 2. ↩︎
16. Atlanta City Directory Co.’s Greater Atlanta (Georgia) city directory (1893) ↩︎
17. “Dr. Chas. Hurt Yields to Death”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 13, 1906, p. 1. ↩︎
18. “Dr. C.D. Hurt Dead: Ill 8 Months”. The Atlanta Journal, August 13, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
19. “Carlton-Hurt” The Atlanta Constitution, February 15, 1895, p. 3. ↩︎
20. “Today’s Talk in Society”. The Atlanta Journal, January 23, 1895, p. 7. ↩︎
21. “Little Child’s Death.” The Atlanta Journal, July 6, 1897, p. 5. ↩︎
22. “Death of Miss Hurt.” The Atlanta Constitution. July 20, 1898, p. 55. ↩︎
23. “In Memory of Miss Mary Maude Hurt.” The Atlanta Constitution, July 24, 1898, p. 15. ↩︎
24. “Death Has Come to Mr. E.F. Hurt”. The Atlanta Journal, September 18, 1899, p. 3. ↩︎
25. “Mrs. Mary Hurt Is Dead After Years of Illness” The Atlanta Journal, October 23, 1902, p. 7. ↩︎
26. “Miss Mary Hurt Is Dead After Long Illness”. The Atlanta Journal, October 22, 1902, p. 8. ↩︎
27. “Miss Miller of N.C. Weds Dr. C.D. Hurt.” The Atlanta Journal, October 6, 1903, p. 10. ↩︎
28. “Dr. Chas. Hurt Yields to Death”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 13, 1906, p. 1. ↩︎
29. “Dr. C.D. Hurt Dead; Ill 8 Months”. The Atlanta Journal, August 13, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
30. “Wil of Dr. Hurt Has Been Probated”. The Atlanta Journal, August 16, 1906, p. 5. ↩︎
31. “Big Auction Sale May 31.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 22, 1904, p. 8. ↩︎
32. “Inman Park, Atlanta’s First Suburb, Has Developed Into One of the City’s Most Beautiful Resident Sections”. The Atlanta Journal, April 26, 1908, p. H5. ↩︎
33. “Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, December 8, 1907, p. 3D. ↩︎
34. “Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, January 5, 1908, p. 4. ↩︎
35. “Wanted–Boarders.” The Atlanta Constitution, October 1, 1908, p. 10. ↩︎
36. “For Rent–Rooms”. The Atlanta Journal, November 8, 1908, p. H9. ↩︎
37. “For Rent by Edwin P. Ansley”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 14, 1909, p. 3. ↩︎
38. “Scenes of Havoc Wrought By Last Night’s Wind”. The Atlanta Journal, March 25, 1909, p. 1. ↩︎
39. “Burglar Visits Inman Park Home”. The Atlanta Constitution, February 7, 1910, p. 7. ↩︎
40. “C.H. McCall’s Chickens Are Taken By Thieves”. The Atlanta Journal, July 2, 1918, p. 12. ↩︎
41. “Mortuary”. The Atlanta Constitution, March 1, 1923, p. 24. ↩︎
42. “Woman Is Indicted On Arson Charges After Fire in Atlanta”. The Atlanta Journal, June 5, 1925, p. 36. ↩︎
43. “Arson Is Charged To Mrs. W.T. Hooks In Indictment”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 6, 1925, p. 7. ↩︎
44. “Woman’s Trial Begins In Superior Court On Charge of Arson.” The Atlanta Journal, June 25, 1925, p. 5. ↩︎
45. “Woman Is Freed On Arson Charge In Fulton Court”. The Atlanta Constitution, June 26, 1925, p. 3. ↩︎
46. “Woman Is Acquitted On Charge of Setting Fire to House Here”. The Atlanta Journal, June 26, 1925, p. 20. ↩︎
47. “Atlantian Scales Dresser To Escape Vicious Rat”. The Atlanta Journal, September 9, 1929, p. 4. ↩︎
48. “11 Persons Escape, Two Are Injured As House Burns”. The Atlanta Journal, January 7, 1931, p. 14. ↩︎
49. “Two Injured in Fire, Eleven Flee Building”. The Atlanta Constitution, January 8, 1931, p. 6. ↩︎
50. “Adams-Cates Reports $62,600 August Sales”. The Atlanta Journal, August 12, 1945, p. 7-D. ↩︎
51. “Homes for Sale, N.E.” The Atlanta Constitution, May 18, 1945, p. 23. ↩︎
52. “Household Goods”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 24, 1946, p. 6. ↩︎
53. Marr, Christine V. and Sharon Foster Jones. Inman Park. Arcadia Publishing: Charleston, South Carolina, 2008. ↩︎
54. Tyson, Jean. “Rebirth: Old Neighborhoods Come Alive Again”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, April 20, 1975, p. 1-G. ↩︎
55. Sparks, Andrew. “Turmoil Among the Turrets”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution Magazine, March 7, 1971, p. 25. ↩︎
56. “Crime Report”. The Atlanta Constitution, January 3, 1975, p. 4-C. ↩︎
57. “Two Persons Leap to Deaths Here”. The Atlanta Constitution, August 22, 1976, p. 6-A. ↩︎
58. “Bud Bailey Realty”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 29, 1981, Classified p. 12. ↩︎
59. “Downtown Properties”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 4, 1982, Classified p. 16. ↩︎
60. “Open House”. The Atlanta Journal, October 17, 1982, p. 30-J. ↩︎
61. “Downtown Properties”. The Atlanta Journal, May 2, 1982, Classified p. 17. ↩︎