John C. Portman, Jr. ofEdwards & Portman. Atrium of Regency Hyatt House Hotel (1967). Peachtree Center, Atlanta.12
“The most exciting hotel on earth is open now in Atlanta,” proclaimed ads for the Regency Hyatt House (later Hyatt Regency Atlanta) in May 1967. 3
That wasn’t an exaggeration — when it first debuted, the fantastic Space-Age design of the Hyatt’s 22-story atrium was considered groundbreaking, and brought more press attention to Atlanta than the city had received in decades.
Seemingly overnight, the status of the hotel’s designer, John Portman (1924-2017), was elevated from that of a run-of-the-mill Atlanta architect to an internationally recognized architect, developer, and urban planner — whether that reputation was deserved is another matter.
View of the original atrium design of the Regency Hyatt Hotel. Atlanta. Photograph from an undated postcard published by GA Scenic South Co., of Pell City, Alabama.
As a product of Atlanta, Portman was, more than anything, a shameless self-promoter, and for years, he was widely credited as the inventor of the atrium hotel concept, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Atlanta’s own Kimball House Hotel, designed by L.B. Wheeler and completed in 1885, was centered around a 7-story central atrium,4 a concept borrowed from the previous Kimball House Hotel, built in 1870 and designed by Griffith Thomas of New York.5
In 1888 and 1892, G.L. Norrman replicated the Kimball House’s atrium lobby at a smaller scale in both the Printup Hotel in Gadsden, Alabama, and the Windsor Hotel in Americus, Georgia.
The Windsor, incidentally, is the oldest-surviving atrium hotel in the United States, having opened two months before Denver’s Brown Palace Hotel,67 which was also built around an atrium.
I’ll give Portman this much: he redefined the atrium concept for the 20th century, and the Hyatt was the first modern atrium hotel when it debuted, but that was 60 years ago — it’s not so modern now.
Looking down at the atrium of Hyatt Regency Atlanta(altered)
When I visited Atlanta for the first time at the age of 9, I saw the Hyatt atrium while most of its original 1960s elements were still intact. As a child, it was a revelatory experience: I was instantly obsessed with Portman’s designs and determined to someday move to Atlanta to become an architect.
Then I grew up.
My assessment of Portman’s work has drastically changed with age and experience: his narcissistic, inward-facing designs that shunned the urban environment have permanently maimed Downtown Atlanta, and his prioritization of spectacle and bullshit over substance and service is all too typical of the city’s hollow nature.
Portman’s reputation in the United States diminished from the 1980s onward, and like many of the 20th-century American architects who were much-hailed in their time, his work is being rapidly — and justly — forgotten.
Looking up at the atrium of Hyatt Regency Atlanta
Atlanta gave lip service to Portman’s legacy in his later years, even as many of his works in the city were either demolished or gutted of their original character — the Hyatt among them. The hotel’s atrium is now a bland, sterile shell of its former self, and the uninformed visitor would never guess it was once considered revolutionary.
Ironically, other cities have done a better job of preserving Portman’s work than his own hometown. San Francisco’s Embarcadero Center and Hyatt Regency, for instance, still retain their original flavor.
But in Atlanta’s relentless drive to be the newest and best — and it never succeeds at either — the city’s developers compulsively destroy every shred of fabric that even hints of being old.
Portman was among the worst offenders in that regard, so it’s only fitting that his work, too, is now being dismantled. No loss, really.
References
Portman, John C., and Barnett, Jonathan. The Architect As Developer. New York: McGraw-Hill (1976). ↩︎
“Regency Opens a Showplace”. The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution, June 25, 1967, 3-R. ↩︎
Advertisement. The Atlanta Journal, May 30, 1967, p. 5-A. ↩︎
“The New H.L. Kimball”. The Atlanta Constitution, May 1, 1885, p. 1. ↩︎
“The H.I. Kimball House, Atlanta, Georgia.” The Greenville Enterprise (Greenville, South Carolina), October 5, 1870, p. 1. ↩︎
Morgan & Dillon. All Saints’ Episcopal Church. Midtown, Atlanta.12
References
“History of All Saints’ Parish and Church Just Complete”. The Atlanta Constitution, April 8, 1906, p. 2. ↩︎
“All Saints’ Episcopal Church Will Be Formally Opened This Morning With Beautiful And Impressive Service”. The Atlanta Journal, April 8, 1906, p. S1. ↩︎
A.C. Bruce of Bruce & Morgan. Walnut Street Christian Church (1886-1976). Chattanooga, Tennessee.1
The Background
The following article waspublished in TheChattanooga Daily Times and details the plan and construction of the Walnut Street Christian Church in Chattanooga, Tennessee, built in 1886 and designed byA.C. Bruceof Bruce & Morgan. The building was demolished circa 1976.
Bruce was raised in Nashville, Tennessee, and began his practice in Knoxville, Tennessee. When he later partnered with T.H. Morgan in Atlanta, the firm continued to secure considerable work throughout eastern Tennessee, including, as the article notes, Chattanooga’s Hamilton County Courthouse and First Presbyterian Church, both demolished.
Location of Walnut Street Christian Church
The design of the tidy Gothic-style church, shown in the illustration above, is typical of Bruce, who consistently struggled to balance solids and voids in his compositions. Note that the doors and windows appear just a little too large for the overall massing: Bruce frequently drew doors and windows out of scale.
The Walnut Street Christian Church occupied this building until 1910, when the congregation moved half a block to the former First Presbyterian Church, becoming Central Christian Church.23
The old Christian Church building was then sold to the local chapter of the Knights of Pythias organization, who converted it into a meeting hall.4 Based on fire maps, the structure’s original 85-foot-high steeple5 was removed at some point,6 likely during this renovation.
In 1923, the building was sold again to the neighboring Newell Sanitarium,7 which converted it into a 10-room annex circa 1925.8 It appears the former church — altered at least twice — remained at 709 Walnut Street9 until the construction of the neighboring Downtown General Hospital, which opened in July 1976.10 The hospital’s parking lot replaced the building.
I won’t lie: This is a dead-boring article that reads a lot like those Old Testament books with endless lists of names and dry histories — the ones Christians pretend to read, if they read the Bible at all.
To make it easier to find, I’ve highlighted the portion about the building’s design in tasteful lavender. You’re welcome.
The New Christian Church to be Dedicated Today.
Handsome Brick Structure on Walnut Street Between Seventh and Eighth Streets.
History Of The Church.
Its Organization, Struggles, Work and Final Great Success–Full Roster of the Membership
During the winter of 1879, A. Teachout of Cleveland, O., came to this city to spend some months, and being an earnest Christian, he sought out some men and women of his own “faith and order,” and induced them to engage with him in an effort to begin the work in this city which has culminated in their house today, and the happy and memorable occasion which will there be celebrated. Among this little band who were brave enough to make such a beginning, may be mentioned Lucius DeLong and wife, N.P. Nail, R.S. Kendrick and wife, and W.C. Carter and wife.
Arrangements were made by them to invite Dr. W.H. Hopson, of Louisville, Ky., to preach a series of sermons in this city. Accordingly Dr. Hopson came and preached for about a week in the old Southern Methodist church, which stood at the corner of Eighth and Market, where Loveman’s new building stands. Dr. Hopson concluded his services in James Hall. In some respects, this was a notable meeting. Large crowds waited upon the preaching and the immediate results were ten accessions by obedience of the gospel: Bradford Post and wife, Fred H. Phillips, B.H. Ferguson and wife, James Nichols, Mrs. Webb and three others.
Before leaving the city Dr. Hopson effected a temporary organization and A. Teachout was appointed Elder of the church. From the time of organization regular meeting were held in a hall or other place within their reach. The worship of God has therefore been steadily maintained ever since.
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
was established about 1878. Probably its first Superintendent was Weston F. Burch, of Missouri,–a man of rare worth never to be forgotten by those who knew him. His successors in that office have W.C. Carter, G.B. Woolworth, R. W. Andrews and the present incumbent, D.W. Chase, who has brought the school to unprecedented prosperity.
The school undertook to pay for the eight stained windows in the auditorium and will succeed. The children and the teachers of the school have paid to the building fund about $400 during the past two years besides paying their own current expenses and are ready to be among the first today to make pledge for liquidating the indebtedness. There is also a lively Mission Sunday School under the care of Charles Caldwell and Charles R. McCall, which has started during the last spring, which will bear its share of the responsibility.
THE PREACHERS
who have served the church have been A. Allison, Geo. W. Abell, J.R. Biggs, F.M. Hawkins, Dr. A.G. Thomas, A.S. Johnson, D.T. Beck and T.D. Butler. In a brief history such as this aims to be, many names which are entitled to honorable mention are likely to be overlooked. This is unavoidable and should not be construed by partial friends as intentional.
The local organization of the Christian Womens’ Board of Mission, which has done a large share of the work of raising money for this new house, as it had done for the very eligible lot upon which it stands, is largely due to Mrs. G.B. Woodworth for its establishment and successful management, though no year of its existence has been crowned with such prosperity as the present, under the active and indefatigable Presidency of Mrs. Eva Wilkinson.
The following have served the church as its Elders: A. Teachont [sic], N.P. Nail, B. Post, L.S. Barret, Isaac Strickle and G.B. Woodworth.
The Deacons have been: L. DeLong, Fred H. Phillips, S.J. Graham, Jno. A. Graham, A.B. Phillips, W.T. Lucas, J.R. Hays, R.W. Andrews, B. Post and Geo. B. Woodworth and D.W. Chase.
Up to the 1st of September, 1884, much had been done by this active and devoted people. They had secured the lot they now occupied and nearly paid for it, and they had made an appeal to the Home Missionary Society of the church in America to help them to sustain regular preaching. An arrangement was completed by which their present pastor, T.D. Butler, came among them, and the work at once began to advance vigorously. The new house, which is to be opened today, was started, and a systematic series of operations pursued by which financial help was received. To this end Mr. Butler has traveled much in Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Missouri, and has raised nearly $2,500 in cash, and has secured loans to the amount of $1,500 on safe and advantageous terms. In addition to this, the spiritual needs of the church have been amply supplied, and more than a hundred members added to the membership. The lot furnishes only a narrow margin beyond the walls, but the house stands 75×50 feet, with a first-class basement. Here are two rows of graceful iron columns, supported by a substantial footing of stone, and thes [sic] in turn adequately support the floor of the auditorium. We reach the main room by spacious steps, which lead into a vestibule of ample size, having a door on the right which opens into the pastor’s room–as on the left you pass into the gallery above, which has a capacity of nearly 100 people–or below into the commodious school and prayer meeting room. The auditorium is furnished with neat pews from the Excelsior Furniture Co., Cincinnati, O., and cathedral glass windows from the Robert Mitchell Furniture House, Cincinnati. Beneath the rostrum is a baptistery [sic], with all the modern appliances, and on either side are the robing rooms to be used by candidates for baptism and for other purposes. On the whole this is one of the neatest, best furnished and most convenient churches in the city.
The plans and specifications for this church were generously donated by A.C. Bruce, Esq., of Bruce & Morgan, Architects, Atlanta, Ga.–the architect of the court house and the First Presbyterian church.
THE CONTRACTORS.
Stone work, Trout & Coxon; brick work, J.F. Wright; slate and galvanized iron, J.C. Banks & Co.; roof and tower, R.D. Whitice; carpenter work, W.M. Cosby and R.W. Andrews; gas fitters, Lookout Plumbing Company and plumbing by H.A. McQuade.
The building committee has been Isaac Strickle, D.W. Chase, G.B. Woodworth, R.W. Andrews, W.M. Cosby and John A. Graham.
The Trustees are Lucius Delong, President; D.W. Chase, Secretary and Treasurer; Bradford Post, G.B. Woodworth, M.M. Caldwell.
The present organization of the church is: Thomas D. Butler, Pastor; Official Board, G.B. Woodworth, Chairman; B. Post, D.W. Chase, John A. Graham, A. B. Phillips, W.M. Cosby, L. DeLong, G.M. King, J.T. Lynn.
[LIST OF CHURCH MEMBERS — too long and boring to repeat here.]11
References
“The New Christian Church to be Dedicated Today.” The Chattanooga Daily Times (Chattanooga, Tennessee), August 8, 1886, p. 8. ↩︎
“Dr. Boswell In His New Pulpit”. The Chattanooga News (Chattanooga, Tennessee), January 3, 1910, p. 2. ↩︎
“Reasons For Their Faith”. The Chattanooga Daily Times (Chattanooga, Tennessee), January 3, 1910, p. 3. ↩︎
“New Home Of Keystone Lodge”. The Chattanooga News (Chattanooga, Tennessee), January 8, 1910, Magazine Section, p. 4. ↩︎
This small commercial building on the southeast corner of Edgewood Avenue and Courtland Street in Downtown Atlanta would have been demolished long ago if it hadn’t served briefly as the first Coca-Cola bottling plant in the city. For that reason, the structure was designatedas a National Historic Landmark in 1983.1
Located at 125 Edgewood Avenue SE, the property is rare in Atlanta for maintaining the same numeric address for its entire existence. Local historians have long claimed the building was constructed in either 1890, 1891, or 1892. However, it’s well documented that the structure was built in 1889 and occupied in January 189023 — Atlanta is appallingly ignorant of its own history.
The building consists of two floors over a full basement,45 and is eclectically styled, incorporating Romanesque and Queen Anne elements. The exterior is covered in red brick with light granite trim, and the interior encompasses less than 6,000 square feet. While the architect is not officially known, all evidence indicates that G.L. Norrman was the designer.
The Design
Anyone with an eye for his work would quickly observe that the overall design and massing of 125 Edgewood Avenue are characteristic of Norrman, and many specific elements also suggest his involvement:
The oval window in the north gable was used by Norrman in multiple projects around the same time, including the Samuel McGowan House (1889) in Abbeville, South Carolina; the Atlanta & Edgewood Street Railway Shed (1889) and 897Edgewood Avenue (1890) in Inman Park, and most notably, the nearby Exchange Building (1889, pictured below).
Chimneys with tapered tops were a trademark element of Norrman’s in the 1880s and 1890s, and the same chimney designs were used in his 1889 plan for the H.M. Potts House (demolished) in Atlanta’s West End.
The central chimneystack on the north side of the building serves as a focal point to visually balance the elevation’s two incongruent halves — this was a common technique used by Norrman in his compositions.
A terracotta scroll bracket on the central chimneystack is of the same design as those used in Norrman’s designs for the Windsor Hotel (1892) in Americus, Georgia, and the Edgewood Avenue Grammar School (1892) in Atlanta.
The stepped gables on the north and west sides of the building were incorporated in Norrman’s design for the nearby Exchange Building and later used on the Windsor Hotel.
The Romanesque granite column on the northwest corner of the ground floor is a smaller version of one used in Norrman’s design for the Printup Hotel (1888) in Gadsden, Alabama.
The porch on the west side of the building uses the same posts with curved brackets seen in Norrman’s design for the E.A. Hawkins House (1890) in Americus, Georgia, and the house at 897 Edgewood Avenue in Inman Park.
The fish-scale shingles used in both the turret and balcony were incorporated into Norrman’s designs for the McGowan House, and the T.P. Ivy House (1895) in Atlanta, among others.
The most obvious design clue is the square turret on the building’s northwest corner, which is a duplicate of one Norrman used in the H.M. Potts House the same year.6
G.L. Norrman. H.M. Potts House(1889, demolished). West End, Atlanta.7
The Background
The building at 125 Edgewood Avenue was one of at least three commercial spec structures built along Edgewood Avenue by Joel Hurt‘s East Atlanta Land Company — it appears Norrman designed all of them.
Norrman was a preferred architect for Hurt in the late 1880s and early 1890s, with four confirmed projects for Hurt’s companies and family, and four additional structures that can be attributed to him. He was also one of the opening-day tenants in Hurt’s Equitable Building (completed in 1892 and demolished in 1971), occupying a suite of offices on the top floor.8
The full list of Norrman’s completed projects for the Hurt companies and family follows:
Exchange Building, completed 18899 and demolished 19391011 – intersection of Edgewood Avenue and Gilmer Street, Atlanta [Map]
Commercial building, completed 1892 and demolished 1939 – 161-165 Edgewood Avenue, SW corner of Edgewood and Piedmont Avenues, Atlanta [Map] – design attributed to Norrman
Three spec houses for the East Atlanta Land Company
Thomas W. Latham House, completed 1889 – 804 Edgewood Avenue NE; Inman Park, Atlanta [Map]
Edgewood Avenue House, completed 1890 – 897 Edgewood Avenue NE; Inman Park, Atlanta [Map]
Euclid Avenue House, completed 1890 – 882 Euclid Avenue, Inman Park, Atlanta [Map]
Atlanta & Edgewood Street Railway Shed, completed 1889 – 963 Edgewood Avenue NE; Inman Park, Atlanta [Map] – design attributed to Norrman
C. D. Hurt House, completed 1893 – 36 Delta Place; Inman Park, Atlanta [Map] – design attributed to Norrman
G.L. Norrman. Exchange Building (1889, demolished 1938). Atlanta.12
The Beginning of Edgewood Avenue
The East Atlanta Land Company created Edgewood Avenue to serve as the main artery from Atlanta’s commercial districtto the company’s suburban residential development, Inman Park.13
Joel Hurt was, by all accounts, a miserable bastard. He was also filthy rich, so of course, he felt entitled to receive whatever he wanted, running to the local press — often his sympathetic friends at TheAtlanta Constitution — to whine petulantly when local leaders didn’t bow to his incessant demands.
In 1886, Hurt and his associates began pestering the city council to widen and extend an existing road called Foster Street,1415161718 which ran from Atlanta’s Calhoun Street (later Piedmont Avenue) to the foot of Hurt’s 75-acre property near the Air-Line Railroad (later Belt Line Railroad).
Hurt also wanted the city to extend Foster Street from Calhoun Street westward to Ivy Street (later Peachtree Center Avenue), connecting it with another thoroughfare called Line Street (later Hurt Plaza), ending at the Five Points intersection in the center of the city.
Part of what made the scheme so contentious was that Hurt demandedthe city of Atlanta use eminent domain to remove homes and buildings along the route.
The city council initially rebuffed Hurt’s proposal in June 1886,19 but mysteriously reversed course and approved it in August 1886.2021
Hurt (pictured here) formed the East Atlanta Land Company the following year, with the expressed intention of developing his 75-acre estate and “building a street car line down Foster Street to the Boulevard and on through this suburban property.”22
Hurt’s demands for the project kept growing, and following nearly two years of discussion and revisions, the City of Atlanta and the East Atlanta Land Company finally settled on a deal, the details of which are too tedious to elaborate on.
Ultimately, both parties funded the construction of the street, while Hurt agreed to give ownership to the city, which, in turn, agreed to condemn any property or building along the route that Hurt’s company couldn’t purchase or remove through its own negotiations with property owners.232425262728
As the project was underway, Foster Street was renamed Edgewood Avenue, which the Constitution described as “A Pretty Street with a Pretty Name…And the Men Who Made It Are Also Very Pretty, Etc. Etc.”29 So much for objective journalism.
It should come as no surprise that the area cleared for Edgewood Avenue was largely inhabited by poor and Black residents, a foreshadowing of Atlanta’s widespread clearance of low-income areas for freeways in the 1950s and 60s, the largest act of wholesale destruction in the city’s history (no, it wasn’t Sherman).
For their part, local newspapers had nothing but praise for Hurt’s project. In 1888, the Constitution predictably gushed:
“The objectionable houses that stood on Line Street have been torn down and now Edgewood avenue runs over the very spot where they once stood. The tearing down of these old houses and removing them from the heart of the city is an act the city should thank the company for.”30
“Objectionable houses,” incidentally, was a polite euphemism for brothels.
The Macon Telegraph was a little more explicit, explaining that the brick houses on Line Street “were once notorious resorts”, and that “the inmates [have] been required to move on to Collins Street” (later Courtland Street),31 which became Atlanta’s red-light district.
In a speech from September 1888, Hurt revealed the extent of the clearance:
“We have conducted negotiations with one hundred and thirty two property owners … it has been necessary to condemn the properties of about thirty parties. It has been necessary to move ninety buildings…We have destroyed $70,000 worth of brick and stone buildings alone.”32
Buried in the same speech was the following note:
“There are four properties of private individuals and one of the Atlanta street railroad company, extending slightly in the street, and at these points work has been delayed because of legal difficulties.”33
If Hurt’s description feels conveniently sanitized, a lawsuit filed by a property owner on Edgewood Avenue hints at the true contentious nature of the project.
In September 1888, Dennis F. O’Sullivan sued the East Atlanta Land Company for its seizure and destruction of his property on Edgewood Avenue.34 O’Sullivan alleged that the company “took forcible possession of [his] premises, moved two of his houses a considerable distance…and then filled in a strip of land…making it higher than the other part of his property, so that water collects there as in a basin.”
O’Sullivan additionally sued the City of Atlanta, because he claimed that he was “prevented by interfering from the police.” Cops defending monied interests? Shocker.
By the time Edgewood Avenue formally opened on September 26, 1888,35 the East Atlanta Land Company owned most of the property along the 2-mile route, which was accurately described as “the only perfectly straight street of any length in the city,”36 running from Five Points to Inman Park.
Hurt’s Atlanta & Edgewood Street Railroad Company (better known as the A&E) became the first electric street railway in Georgia when it debuted on August 22, 1889.37 Running on double tracks, the “new-fangled street car”38 glided at a cool 18 miles per hour39 along Edgewood Avenue, which city workers finished paving with Belgian block just four days earlier.40
North elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
Construction and History
Two weeks before the trolley’s debut, the building permit for 125 Edgewood Avenue was issued in early August 1889, with construction supervised by B.R. Padgett,41 a prolific contractor who in later years marketed himself as an architect (he wasn’t). Construction on the projectwas swift, with only four months from the date the permit was issued to the building’s opening.
Joel Hurt regularly employed convict labor in his civic projects, and chain gangs loaned by Fulton County were used in the construction of Edgewood Avenue.42 However, Hurt’s nearby Exchange Building was built with paid day labor,43 and 125 Edgewood was likely completed in the same manner.
Even if convicts didn’t work on the building, its distinctive red-clay bricks were almost certainly manufactured by the Chattahoochee Brick Company near Atlanta, which also ran on forced prison labor.44
OpenHouse
Hanye Grocery Companywas 125 Edgewood’s first tenant, opening on the ground floor in January 1890. Advertising itself as “The Prettiest Store and most Complete Grocery House in the South”, and “the finest this side of Baltimore, without any exaggeration”, the store purportedly offered “the finest fancy and domestic goods”.45
The store’s owner was R.M. Hanye, who moved his grocery business from a smaller space on Decatur Street. “I cordially invite the ladies to visit my grocery in the magnificent new brick building…”, Hanye proclaimed in newspaper ads.46
The new store was described as “palatial” by The Atlanta Journal, which noted the “three handsome double entrances” and marveled that “A person can enter the door at one end of the store and walk to the other end, taking a good view of the entire stock, and come out at the further entrance on the same street (Edgewood avenue.)”47
Unique for Atlanta, the building was designed so that the business proprietor could reside in the residential space above the store, accessed from Courtland Street by the porch built halfway between the first and second floors.
The concept even received national attention: An 1890 article in Architecture and Building mentioned Norrman’s similar design for the nearby Exchange Building, reporting, “A novel scheme for utilizing a triangular corner lot was evolved by Mr. Norrman, giving two residences over a store.”48
In 125 Edgewood, it appears the second-floor living space consisted of two large rooms and a bathroom, which were quickly divided into one-room apartments, based on a description in a 1896 advertisement.49 According to city directories from 1890 and 1891, Hanye both lived and worked in the building,5051 although future tenants in the retail space lived off-site.
The Hanye Grocery Company was officially incorporated in July 1890,52 with Joel Hurt listed as one of the owners.53A hand-painted sign advertising the grocery is still faintly visible on the east side of the building, although it has long outlasted the business.
R.M. Hanye sign on the east elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
In 1891, the Hanye Grocery Company reincorporated itself — without Hanye or Hurt — as the Atlanta Grocery Company,54 which closed by 1893, replaced by Hosch & Son grocers.55 In 1894, the space was occupied by yet another grocery, operated by Mrs. F.A. Holleran.56
From 1895 to 1898, 125 Edgewood Avenue housed Star Grocery, operated by John M. Waddill,575859 and in 1895, the building also briefly contained a photography studio operated by Hugh Schmidt.6061 In 1899, the building was vacant.62
The essential problem with the building’s location was already apparent in 1890, when Hanye’s ads stressed that his store was “Only three minutes’ ride on the Atlanta and Edgewood electric cars.”63It wassimply too far from the heart of Atlanta’s commercial district, primarily centered 3 blocks west at the intersection of Whitehall, Decatur, and Marietta Streets.
The East Atlanta Land Company clearly hoped that the building’s tenants would capture the business of trolley riders shuttling to and from Inman Park, yet, despite a wide-scale promotional blitz, early home sales in Inman Park were anemic.
Many of the giant spec houses planned by Atlanta’s leading architects sat empty for years or were rented out before Inman Park was swallowed up by the encroaching city and filled with smaller, cheaper homes in the early 20th century.
Peachtree Street remained the preferred address of the city’s elite for at least 20 years after Inman Park’s opening, and for the old-money families of Atlanta (whatever that meant in a 53-year-old city), the suburb could only have been viewed as a gauche, far-out enclave for the nouveau riche.
Stepped gable on the north elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
The Coca-Cola Year
Beginning circa April 1900,64the Dixie Coca-Cola Bottling Company occupied 125 Edgewood for about 8 months, a tenancy so short-lived that the company’s presence isn’t even listed in city directories from the time, although newspaper classified ads confirm it.
One such ad requested: “Three boys about 17 to do rough light work; must be hustlers and willing to work cheap.”65 No comment necessary.
Typical of most Atlanta enterprises, Coca-Cola’s origins are shady and convoluted, but the product first debuted in 1886 as a medicinal tonic at Jacobs’ Pharmacy on Marietta Street, and steadily gained regional and national popularity as an alternative to alcohol when Atlanta and other cities began dabbling in prohibition. “The proper use of it will make a drunken man sober,” the ever-truthful Constitution claimed.66
In 1898, Coca-Cola opened new headquarters one block east of 125 Edgewood Avenue at the intersection of Edgewood and College Street (later named Coca-Cola Place), with a 3-story brick building designed by Bruce & Morgan and owned by the East Atlanta Land Company. 67686970
An important distinction to make is that it wasn’t the Coca-Cola Company that operated from 125 Edgewood Avenue, but an entirely separate bottling company licensed to distribute Coca-Cola’s product in the Southeast.71
Contrary to Coke’s corporate mythmaking, the company has long been a stodgy, insular, and conservative entity with a flair for empty self-promotion — not unlike Atlanta itself. In Coca-Cola’s early years, the beverage could only be purchased at soda fountains, and the company’s president, Asa G. Candler, didn’t see the value in bottling his product.
In 1899, Candler reluctantly agreed to grant bottling rights to J.B. Whitehead and B.F. Thomas, who subsequently established the Dixie Coca-Cola Bottling Company to distribute the soda throughout the Southeast. Starting their first bottling plant in Chattanooga, Tennessee, the men then opened a second plant at 125 Edgewood in Atlanta.72
In 1900, Coca-Cola reportedly sold 51,147 gallons in Atlanta 73 — that appears to be separate from the product bottled at 125 Edgewood, and it’s unclear how much was distributed from the building, but it couldn’t have been substantial. The plant’s output was limited by the size of its marketing territory, which was reportedly measured by how far a mule team could travel in a day.74
By January 1901, the Dixie Coca-Cola plant vacated 125 Edgewood and moved to 35 Ivy Street.75
In truth, Coke’s connection with 125 Edgewood is barely worth noting, but Atlanta has destroyed so much of its history that it has to cling to whatever remnants it can to pretend it has a cultural legacy beyond hype, moneymaking, and oppression.
After Coca-Cola
It’s also unclear when the East Atlanta Land Company sold 125 Edgewood, but with the failure of Inman Park and other projects, coupled with the severe financial depression of the mid-to-late 1890s, the company shed its assets in multiple auctions over the next decade.
Hurt seemingly lost interest in the company as he threw his energy and attention into the management of the Atlanta Consolidated Street Railway Company, formed in 1891 by the merger of the A&E and 5 other street railway companies,7677 as well as the establishment that same year of the bank that would become the Trust Company of Georgia.78
The East Atlanta Land Company auctioned off the bulk of its Edgewood Avenue commercial property in 1903 79808182— including its property on Exchange Place and the Coca-Cola headquarters83 — followed by a final sale of its remaining assets in 1906.8485868788 It appears that 125 Edgewood was likely sold in 1903, as the property wasn’t listed in the 1906 auction.89
Looking at 125 Edgewood Avenue from the northeast
For the next 20 years, 125 Edgewood hosted a revolving door of short-lived businesses:
In December 1901, a grocery store operated by a man named Charles with the last name of either Charalambedis, Charalambitis,90or Charalampe91 declared bankruptcy, selling a “stock of groceries and fixtures…including counters, show cases, and two soda founts…”92
In May 1902, an entirely different grocery store, operated by I. Goldberg, also declared bankruptcy, selling its stock of “staple and fancy groceries fresh and in good condition, show cases, computing scales, coffee mill and other fixtures usually belonging to such business”.93
In 1903, the space was occupied by L.C. Johnson and Company, described as “retail grocers and restaurant”.94
In 1904, a cigar business owned by Henry I. Palmer was listed at the address.95
In October 1904, a drug store at the location went into receivership, selling off “one stock of drugs and fixtures, stock bottles and show cases, one soda fount and all attachments; also one carbonator, filler, and Crown machine, almost new”. The store was advertised as “A splendid opportunity for a live young man.”96
A drug store operated by George C. Mizell operated at the address in 1905.97
In 1906, the ground floor of the building was occupied by Central Pharmacy, with Virgil A. Jones, a barber, on the second floor.98 In January 1906, a “12-syrup soda fount, A1 condition, cheap, if sold at once”, was advertised at the address.99
Central Pharmacy was still in business in 1907, operated by Henry F. Askam, although the barber shop was replaced by a “pressing club” operated by John R. Thomason.100
By 1908, Central Pharmacy had become the Askam & Alford pharmacy, operated by Askam with N.E. Alford.101 The business was again called Central Pharmacy in 1909.102
In 1909, J.B. Peyton applied for a transfer of a near-beer license at the address from J. Bigler.103 Georgia enacted Prohibition in 1907, so saloons at the time only served non-alcoholic beverages. Ahem.
Peyton’s saloon was still in operation in 1910, occupying the ground floor,104 but Peyton transferred the license to George N. Weekes in December 1910.105 That year, the top-floor apartment was occupied by two men: James Lindsey and William T. Culbreath.106
In 1911, the structure was owned by the Adair family’s local real estate empire, and a building permit was issued for $220 in fire damage repair.107
In 1912, the building housed another saloon, operated by William T. Murray.108
From 1913 to 1916, a saloon and pool room operated by Louis Silverman was located in the building,109110111112
In 1917, the Turman & Calhoun real estate company advertised the building’s “clean storeroom”, noting it was “within three minutes of Peachtree”.113
Directories from 1918 list the building space as vacant,114 but by August of that year, the building housed the Atlanta Screen and Cabinet Works, owned by J.W. Biggers.115
In 1920 and 1921, the space was occupied by a dry goods store operated by Harris Roughlin.116117
In 1922, the Mazliah & Cohen dry goods store operated in the space,118 and by 1923, it had been replaced with a dry goods store owned by Joe Horwitz.119
In 1924, a “well-established millinery business” at the address was listed for sale.120
Ground floor window on the northeast corner of 125 Edgewood Avenue
The Briscoe-Morgan Murder-Suicide
The ground-floor space at 125 Edgewood was occupied by B. and B. Clothing Company121 — a store owned by J.W. Biggers of Atlanta Screen and Cabinet Works fame — when it was the scene of a murder-suicide in 1924.122123
On August 7, 1924, Fannie Briscoe, a 36-year-old saleswoman at the business, was shot to death by W.R.L. Morgan, a 52-year-old insurance salesman who had reportedly been in a relationship with Briscoe. Immediately after killing her, Morgan turned the pistol around and shot himself in the head, “falling dead at Mrs. Briscoe’s feet.”124
The scene was witnessed by a man repairing his tire outside the store, who reported that Briscoe screamed “Don’t do that! Don’t do that” in the moments before she was killed.125
Newspapers at the time described a typical Atlanta romance: Briscoe had divorced her first husband and was separated from her second when she began a relationship with Morgan. The two “became infatuated with each other” and lived together in an apartment on Pryor Street, but had recently broken up.126
A police investigator explained that “Morgan’s mind seemed to have become somewhat unbalanced following this separation and he became deeply depressed at times.”127
Three letters found in Morgan’s pocket addressed various aspects of post-mortem business, with such tedious and clichéd phrasing as: “I am tired of life. The world has gone back on me.”
Apparently fond of morose prose, Morgan left another letter in his apartment, in which he moaned: “Fannie Briscoe is the cause of it all. I can’t stand the way she has done me. That’s all. Good by to all.”128
Even in death, Atlantans are narcissistic and boring.
Stepped gable on the west elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
Crime and Seediness
Early claims that Edgewood Avenue would “attract the rich and fashionable to live upon it”129 were pure Atlanta bullshit, and while never a prestige address, it’s clear that 125 Edgewood quickly became just as seedy and crime-ridden as the properties demolished for the street’s construction a few years earlier.
Recall that in 1889, the “inmates” of the former Line Street had simply been pushed over to Courtland Street, so of course, the location was destined to draw an unsavory element.
In October 1906, the building’s second floor was raided by police for housing an illegal gambling establishment. Twelve men were arrested during a game of poker,130 in which “it was found necessary to break in one or two doors”, according to the Journal, which added: “it is said that Sergeant Lanford swung a sledge hammer like a veteran blacksmith.”131
In 1916, Louis Silverman, the proprietor of a pool room and saloon in the building, was ordered to appear in court for allowing minors to play,132 apparently leading to the closure of the business.
In 1924, less than a month after the murder-suicide, the B. and B. Clothing Company was robbed of a satin dress.133
In 1925, the space housed a store operated by Morris Jackson, which was robbed in an overnight burglary that resulted in the loss of 15 dozen pairs of hosiery, 13 shirts, 12 pairs of suspenders, and 23 necklaces.134
In September 1928, the building was occupied by the Atlas Dry Goods Store when it was robbed again — this time of 20 dresses. 135 Three months later, the store’s “show window” was smashed in during an overnight robbery attempt.136
One 1982 article from the Constitution said of the property: “There is even evidence to suggest that, at one down-at-the-heels juncture in its past, the second story was a house of ill repute disguised as a boarding home.”137 The mind boggles.
Squared corner turret on 125 Edgewood Avenue
Occupants in the Mid-20th Century
Following the 1924 murder-suicide, 125 Edgewood hosted a few more short-lived businesses, although occupancy at the location stabilized through mid-century:
In October 1925, a “candy kitchen, fully equipped” was auctioned off at the location.138
In December 1925, a restaurant owned byO.G. Hughes operated from the building, where his 2-year old son was severely scalded by a pot of boiling water.139140
The Warner Heating and Plumbing Company operated from the building, circa 1930-1936.141142
A shop selling “sandwiches and drinks, doing nice business” with “low rent” was advertised in the Business Opportunities section of theConstitution classifieds in 1935.143
The Shepard Decorating Company was owned by Virgil W. Shepard, who bought the building from the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company in 1939144 and operated the business at the location until 1951.145146147
Brown Radio Sales & Service, a Philco dealership, operated at 125 Edgewood from 1952 to 1969.148149
Ground floor window on the north side of 125 Edgewood Avenue
Reassessment
After years of neglect, in 1966,150the Atlanta Baptist Association purchased 125 Edgewoodwith plans to demolish it, but when Georgia State University identified the property as one it intended to include in its campus expansion plans, the organization instead kept the building to sell to the university.151
While it waited for Georgia State to purchase the property, in 1969, the association opened theBaptist Student Union at 125 Edgewood.152 You gotta stash the kids somewhere, right? What started as a temporary tenancy became the building’s longest occupancy.
Georgia State abandoned its plan to purchase 125 Edgewood circa 1976, when the building was nominated to the National Register of Historic Places.153
In 1978, the building was additionally nominated as a National Historic Landmark. The Historic Preservation Section of Georgia’s Department of Natural Resources submitted the nomination,154 citing the building’s connection to Coca-Cola, although the company’s executives — esconced in their dreary concrete fortress on North Avenue — apparently wanted nothing to do with it.
“The Coca-Cola people weren’t overjoyed by the nomination,” recalled a historian from the DNR, adding: “Perhaps they didn’t want such a tacky little building representing them.”155
A Coca-Cola spokesperson responded with bland corporate diplomacy: “I don’t think we would object to it being on the list, but I don’t think we would have pushed it either.”156 Is it any wonder Atlanta never saves a damn thing?
Second-story windows on the north elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
Constricted by the building’s new historic designations, the Atlanta Baptist Association decided to renovate 125 Edgewood, which by the early 1980s was in a visible state of disrepair but described as “extremely sound.”157
Photographs from 1976 reveal the many alterations that occurred over the years: the building’s brick facade had been painted, the corner windows on the ground floor were boarded over, and the original porch and balcony had been removed.
“One of the things about the building is that it looks like it’s not occupied,” explained one of the student union’s leaders. “You can walk by and think no one’s here.”158
A renovation and expansion plan was completed in 1980 by Cavender/Kordys Associates Inc.,159 a small architectural firm from nearby East Point, Georgia.160 The firm estimated the project would cost $475,000, and the association began a fundraising campaign to pay for it.161
By 1987, the renovation had yet to begin, and the building’s structural integrity had so deteriorated that it was reported to the United States Congress as a Threatened National Historic Landmark.162
Renovation and Addition
Renovation on 125 Edgewood finally proceeded in 1989,163164 including a reconstruction of the porch and a shortened version of the second-floor balcony, using a 1893 photograph of the building as a design reference.165
The building’s windows were replaced with recreations of the originals, the paint was removed from the brick, and the broken chimneystack on the north side was rebuilt.
For the modern addition, a small, unobtrusive wing was attached to the south side of the building, designed with matching brick and granite stringcourses to complement the historic structure while providing the student union with extra space.
The project restored the building’s outer shell, but no attempt was made to restore the interior to its former appearance — the original stairwells were ripped out, walls were removed to create open meeting space, and the ceilings were covered in standard 1980s acoustic tile.
A 2003 update to the building’s landmark nomination form explained that the renovation, combined with 100 years of previous interior changes, had “altered the original floor plan to where it is virtually indiscernible.”166
Reconstructed porch on the west elevation of 125 Edgewood Avenue
Return to Dilapidation
Atlanta abhors maintaining its historic buildings — or anything, for that matter — and in the early 21st century, 125 Edgewood again shows signs of long-term neglect.
Visible issues in 2025 included a broken window in the corner turret covered with a flimsy tarp, rotting wood on the porch and balcony, missing shingles, and a mysterious dark stain running down the side of the porch. Images from the same year revealed the interior’s dilapidated state, including major flooding in the basement.167
Nearly 60 years after it moved into the building, in December 2024, the BCM at Georgia State (formerly the Baptist Student Union) vacated 125 Edgewood,168 and the property was placed for sale, marketed as ‘one of the last “true” relatively untouched Victorian mansions left downtown’,169 an erroneous statement in every conceivable fashion. The building is currently abandoned.
An Uncertain Future
As of 2026, the future of 125 Edgewood Avenue is anything but certain.
The building’s National Historic Landmark status doesn’t amount to much, as proven by Atlanta University Center’s Stone Hall (1882), also designed by Norrman and designated as a National Historic Landmark. Abandoned in 2003, Stone Hall has been heavily vandalized and in a state of rapid deterioration for years, with no meaningful funding or plans to return it to viable use.
Because 125 Edgewood is designated as a City of Atlanta Landmark, the structure is well protected from demolition,170 but it’s unclear how the building could be suitably repurposed, as it’s too small and poorly positioned for a public-facing business.
Parking at the location is also limited, and Atlantans value their vehicles more than their lives, so if a business isn’t within feet of cheap, abundant parking, it has no chance of survival.
The building appropriately sits on the route for the revived Atlanta Streetcar, although that, too, doesn’t count for much. Atlanta’s streetcar is an absolute failure of a vanity project that’s barely used by anyone — that is, if it’s even running at all.
The one certainty about the property is this: despite its unique design and historic significance, 125 Edgewood has never been a good place for a business.
Edmund G. Lind. Swift Specific Company (1883-1956). Atlanta.1
The Background
The following article was published in The Atlanta Constitution in 1883, and despite its title — “New Atlanta Buildings” — the article discusses a single structure: the laboratory of the Swift Specific Company, designed byE.G. Lind (1829-1909).
Blurring the line between news and advertisement, the article essentially served as a promotion for the Atlanta-based manufacturer of the “S.S.S.” tonic, a cure-all elixir sold across the United States and Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
The company still exists, and the product is still manufactured in Atlanta, so I won’t be too disparaging. Suffice it to say, when an unregulated medicinal tonic is billed as the “Great Blood Remedy of the Age,” claiming to cure everything from sores, ulcers, and boils to eczema, rheumatism, blood diseases,2 and — oh, yes — syphilis,3 there’s room to be skeptical.
Typical of Atlanta, the tonic also has a shady and convoluted backstory. The recipe for the remedy was reportedly offered by members of the Muscogee Nation to Irwin Dennard of Perry, Georgia, in 1826. Dennard later sold the formula to Charles T. Swift, who formed a company to manufacture the product, relocating it to Atlanta in 1873.4
Humphries & Norrmanwere initially reported as the designers of the company’s factory in 1883,5 but all evidence indicates E.G. Lind designed the completed building. Lind’s own project list includes the factory,6 and one of the company’s directors was J.W. Rankin, a repeat client of Lind’s, and a member of the building committee for Atlanta’s Central Presbyterian Church, which Lind also designed.7
Lind’s records indicate that the project cost was $12,000,8 but the company claimed it totaled over $30,000 with machinery.9
Location of Swift Specific Company
The 3-story brick factory was built on the northeast corner of Hunter and South Butler Streets (later Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive SE and Jesse Hill, Jr. Drive SE), bordering the Georgia Railroad.
Then located on the edge of the city, the site was surrounded by a low-rent district of shanties and small factories, but was also two blocks from the central freight depot — ideal for distribution.
In advertisements from the 1880s and 1890s, the company often touted its proximity to the Georgia State Capitol, located one block west of the factory. The Fulton County Jail was later built next door to the facility, but they never mentioned that in their marketing.
Considering the company’s constant promotion in the Atlanta press, it’s surprisingly difficult to find any articles that discuss the development of its property after 1883.
At some point between 1899 and 1911, the factory appears to have doubled in size.1011 My best guess is that the expansion took place circa 1902, after the company bought an adjoining lot on Hunter Street in 1901.12 Who the designer of the addition was is unclear — Lind left Atlanta in 1893 and retired from practice.
Later renamed the S.S.S. Company, the factory continued operating at the same location until circa 1956-57, when the entire area was acquired and cleared for the construction of the I-75/85 Downtown Connector.1314 The site is now occupied by an exit ramp.
“New Buildings In Atlanta.”
New Laboratory Of The Swift Specific Co.
Now being erected corner Hunter and Butler streets, one block below the City Hall, one hundred feet long, eighty feet wide–three stories and cellar.
We give a drawing of the new Laboratory of The Swift Specific Company now being built corner Hunter and Butler streets. This will be a handsome building, an ornament to that part of the city, and is not only an evidence of the thrift and growth of Atlanta, but is a most substantial proof the confidence of the proprietors of this extraordinary remedy in its merit, and the permanent business of its manufacture and sale. In fact, they know so well that their remedy is all they claim for it, they have no hesitation in investing twenty to forty thousand dollars in substantial buildings and improved machinery for its manufacture. They will have in their new Laboratory at [sic] 30-horse power engine, two boilers, ten immense steam tight percolators, a large mill for grinding the roots, a powerful press of two tons to the inch for extracting the juices, besides numerous bottle washing and bottle filling machines. Taken as a whole, it will be, when finished, one of the most complete Laboratories in America, and will be superintended by a practical Pharmacist and Chemist of 25 years experience.
Since Swift’s Specific has come into general use as a health tonic, the demand has increased so rapidly and largely that the Company have had difficulty in keeping up the supply, but now they expect to be prepared for all emergencies, as their capacity will be, after October 1st, over a million dollars a year.
Letters From the People.
A Marvelous Cure.
From the Memphis Appeal, August 1.
To the Editors of the Appeal: Noticing in your paper where S.S.S. had effected a cure in an aggravated case of scrofula, I have concluded to give My experience with the remedy mentioned. Some time ago I was afflicted with a very stubborn case of eczema; at the time I was living in Philadelphia. It got worse and worse, until my face and other portions of my body were covered with a mass of running sores. I visited my family physician, and after being under his care for a long time without any relief he turned me over to Prof. Duffing, a noted expert on skin diseases, and after swallowing a barrel of medicine prescribed by him without giving me any relief, I consulted with several other professional experts with a like success. I was miserable, and despaired of a cure. Being very skeptical in regard to the effect of patent medicines, I had as yet not tried any, but being advised by many people I commenced at the top of the list of patient remedies for eczema, ectyma, mentagra and other skin affectations, and I think I tried them all, still however, without doing me any good. I had heard of S.S.S., and although I had been repeatedly advised by my friends to try it, still as each remedy failed in producing the desired result, and as with each failure my skepticism increased, I refused to take it until in utter desperation I concluded to give it a trial as a last resort, not believing, however, it would have a beneficial effect. But to my surprise, after taking several bottles, I noticed a decided improvement, and when I had finished the fifth bottle I shouted hurrah, for my skin was without a blemish, as fair and smooth as possible. I write this in the interest of anyone that may be afflicted likewise, and now I swear by S.S.S.
DRUMMER.
P.S.–I would be pleased to correspond with anyone that is interested, and give them full details.
“How We Grow.” The Atlanta Constitution, June 10, 1883, p. 3. ↩︎
Belfoure, Charles. Edmund G. Lind: Anglo-American Architect of Baltimore and the South. Baltimore, Maryland: The Baltimore Architectural Foundation (2009), p. 180. ↩︎
