Southside Atlanta Memories

Is this it? Happy Halloween Friday! Is it Sambo's, southsiders?

Fair reader David H. may have a tiger by the tail! As you know, he's written in recently to solicit our help refreshing some fond southside memories. He remembers his aunt taking him to a restaurant on 138 back in the 1970s and '80s.                        .

From the Atlanta 1977 Yellow Pages: 

 

I do remember the Sambo's in Jonesboro; of course Sambo means only one thing to Fayette villians; going to the doctor (if you went to Sambo, he'd be nice; if you went to Dr. Helen, you'd get a shot, and get well) or grown ups talking about politics.

It's not a kangaroo, but Sambo's had locations on 139, Riverdale road, and Forest Parkway.

This website has fantastic color pics of some early Sambo's in California, and here in Florida, but nothing about our five mid '70s locations. I will try to research that, and I do have more links for you about Sambo's - the story, coming up in future Southside Atlanta Memories!

Please share any of your Southside memories with our readers and help your friends relive theirs.

David, and I- and Sambo (love how they had no qualms about using Tony's catchphrase) say

"Yourrre Gr-r-reat!"

If you're planning on partying tonight- try-

OK, maybe not--from the 1977 Atlanta Bell YP.

Fayette County's sweetest memory

This week was marked by two bittersweet losses for us southsiders. The first was the sad news that Maggie Banks has passed. Of course the news is sad only family and friends left without her here; we all know, as one Facebook poster noted, "Heaven is a much sweeter place now that 'Miss' Maggie is there."

As outlined in the obituary in the ajc, here, Maggie Culver was a true southsider, born and raised in College Park. She married Herchel Banks in 1940 and began her career as a farm wife, for Fayette County was farm country indeed.  At the top of the rise on the other side of the creek, just east of North 85 -Urbanaasphaltatropolis (Starbucks -purveyers of the most reliably strong coffee, the most reliably dry, cold, good looking, yet unpalatable cinnamon rolls-), a trip back home to College Park would have been a day's affair-just making that first hill through slick red clay would have worn the driver's nerves. One train  stopped in Kenwood, but ceased service around that time, so Maggie would have had time trying to get home often. She began raising her brood; one daughter would later produce the brightest, funniest, cutest comedy writer to grace the halls of the new  Fayette Elementary.

In the mean time Maggie Banks began working in the food service program for the Fayette County School system.  She was responsible for years of happy schoolchildren, who could look forward to at least one aspect of the coming school day-fluffy yeast rolls and juicy fried chicken at lunch. At Fayette County High School- THE high school until 1984, Mrs Banks presided over the most heavenly vo-tech program ever created, which also resulted in a unique, and delectable Senior privlige-Senior Lunch!

Mrs. Banks trained young ladies, and gentlemen- in the art of crafting and serving wholesome delicious food with warm and welcoming smiles. On Friday, seniors were allowed to take lunch in the Vo Tech wing where they delighted in hot steak and baked potatoes and green beans -from real service with real tablecloths and napkins. High spirits aside, students generally lived up to the genteel setting, for  no one wanted to dissapoint Mrs. Banks, with her warm hugs and merry eyes. Certainly not the students working in her classes, who would only see her furrowed brow and serious expression when as she emphasised how important our guests and snack bar customers were, and how crucial it was for us to get their orders right and keep their coffee refilled.

I worked in the snack bar during summer school in 1980, and I still recall that summer as one of my favorite after Linda died. Not only did I get to sample tasty snacks, but I learned the value and FUN that could BE found in work. I loved meeting the students- and the construction workers (wink!) that came in for the hot burgers and fries and cold ice filled sodas and tea- sweet or unsweet?-  and I strove to meet Mrs. Banks' standards of hospitality and professionalism.  

By the time I was a junior, I'd discovered Mrs. Maggie's cinnamon rolls. Never have I had any better. Yeasty, spicy, and covered with sweet icing, they were baked hot and fresh on -help me out- Thursday or Friday mornings? and you could grab one if you got in early enough, or order them early in the week and get a box full on baking day. Enterprising Barry Bacon made a small fortune off my late self; he would order a box full and resell one or two to me in Mr. Avelis' Recent Presidents class. What I wouldn't giver for one of those now. Because not only were they the most delicious, but we knew they were presided over, and baked with love.

Like all of her offerings, these cinnamon rolls were mouthwatering to look at, they smelled sooo fresh - and they were. They were just what they promised, and a little bit more, just like the lady herself. For instance, I didn't realize that's where Troup County transplant Pam Adams got her cake baking and decorating chops! She took Cake Decorating under Mrs. Banks.

How many lives have been touched by Maggie Banks and her gentle leadership? How many young growling stomachs were filled, how many of us were inspired to be out best at any task, by Maggie Banks? I hope to be discussing this with you all over one of her delicious rolls, about 40 or 50 years from now, in eternity.

In the sweet by and by...

Chrysler in the international market, Ford touts gas mileage on new truck line, pundits address urban sprawl, more from LIFE-1959!

  While looking at a student group's paper documenting Atlanta urban and suburban domestic architecture,  (Hang with me--it gets good)(on the DNR's Georgia Historic Preservation page)  I chased a rabbit down the yard fertilizer hole. I didn't find the info I was expecting to find, so I decided to check out my own cache of old magazines. As you can see I hit the jackpot with this Scott's ad.  According to the ad text,  he is in the process of making his neighbors envy him, although why a grown man would want to do that to a bunch of kids is beyond me....

I kept flipping through the pages of this August 1959 'LIFE' magazine, and was gratified to see that what's old is new again....the more things change, the more they stay the same...(furnish the old person cliche of your choosing...here.)

I couldn't wait to show you all..... 

LOVE THIS TRUCK!   However, throughout the text of this ad, it never says WHAT the mileage IS--It's just "25.3% MORE" than last years model.

As I went through this 50 year old magazine, I was astonished to find the answer to urban sprawl-laid out before a lot of us here in the south even had any!  

Then there is the GM post mortem, which I thought we'd done back when '"Roger and Me" came out. Everyone I knew with a couple of notable exceptions, including our driving family, drove a GM car in the mid '70s. Most families had a land yacht of the Impala variety; my Old National cousins had matching charcoal grey sleek burgundy pinstriped Grand Prixs (2) a '75, then the new body style of '78.(click the link for an excellent little history of the '70s Grand Prix)  He worked at Doraville on the night shift, so the avocado Trimline would be unplugged for most of the day so he could sleep. Little did I know I'd one day work that shift myself...

Unfortunately by the time of the Iranian hostage crisis, giant gas guzzlers had lost some of their cachet. GM cars, too, were losing things like door handles and various other parts.

More and more harassed commuting dads were checking out little cuties that their dads tried to convince them they should be ashamed to look at. However when Mom joined in, engaged by the novelty of these little foreign boxes, and tired of being stranded by another clunker break down, Celicas and Preludes began sprouting up in the driveways of the newer subdivisions (Deer Glen, White Oak)that were (sprawl be damned) popping up over Fayette County. For sure, in town, all Fayettevillians still had a Ford under the carport, likely with this license plate on the front, (from the Dorsey-Fife House) but these new cars were so good on gas, and never broke down...

 

No planned obsolescence here, evidently....

And the weird Chrysler/Fiat deal- what's up with all that? According to this Wikipedia article...(I know, I know-look up the refs yourself..) Chrysler's already been involved with Fiat once, and most of us didn't even know... (please click these images so you can read some of the compelling reasons to drive the new SIMCA)

Ok, I'll give you one: You can make the car go-"toot" for in town driving, and "toooot" for ..but you'll have to read the rest...below...

And-when would you reset your tooter? Old National? 314 and Sullivan Road? (remember this is 1959 we're talking about) When you leave Forest Park? What do you think?

Mere gems from the 1959 LIFE magazine, anon...

Southern Pines...Seaside, and the Southside

Look at these beauties...two people commented on these lovely tall pines yesterday, so I thought you all might enjoy seeing them.
Old National of course, was the land of fragrant pines and white sand when I was growing up; at Aunt Mitzi's at the (almost) corner of Old National and Creel Road, there were several acres of tall pines surrounding the house; I particularly loved the spot in the back corner where the pines halted and soft green grass grew.    

I am not sure what hole our current house is set on, but the visionary H. L. Sudduth laid out the precursor to Seaside and Rosemary Beach. He came to this area from Birmingham, saw this little spit of land right next to the booming little upstart Panama City and bought up what he could from the shipping and timber interests that were already here. He put in sidewalks and started stylish little bungalows, and advertised the development as the last word in recreation and business life, all rolled into one.
To cap it off in swinging style,  Sudduth built a sprawling stucco hotel, a riding stable, a clubhouse and a golf course for the guests to enjoy.
But as we have discovered, easy credit leads to hard falls. After the economic downturn no one could afford to stay at the Hotel Cove, so resort changed hands. Sudduth and his children were later able to continue developing the area, and the Sealy family ably managed the steamlined operations at the Cove Hotel. There were plenty of entertainment options even without the links, setting at the confluence of the bayou, the bay and the Gulf of Mexico. My yard was safe for another 20 odd years.
After WWII, the old golf course was developed into odd little circles, and planted with happy little tract houses. In a stroke of genius, the pines were left to shade and perfume our little spot of the Cove and to stand as gray guardians of the Cove's secrets. If you can slow down, like our friend here, and be really quiet, they'll whisper their stories in  halting, pleasant accents.
Shhhh....look....listen....    

College Park book on the way

Great news! Our friend Sherry C. is working on a book on College Park. Her sweet mom was one of the first people I was able to chat about Jamestown with- She and her family had done the College Park-Fayette County thing backward and forward. Sherry knows a lot about the area, and is a crack genealogical researcher. I can't WAIT to see this book! She is interested in seeing your College Park photographs; email me here if you'd like to get in touch.   

T. B. (too bad)

He is a talented young performer with everything, including a nice house in College Park. I'm sorry he chose to stockpile machine guns. Take a look at 2006's ATL if you have any doubts, and enjoy some better Southside days. Thanks for being patient on the Cracker Cat updates. Time is fleeting...

Guess where I'm eating lunch today?

Just saw this in the ajc- The next best thing to Linda's fried chicken. She used to buy (yes, back in Pike County, in the '30s, she went out and killed, mercifully by the '60s, we got them at Colonial) a whole chicken, take it home, cut it up on the kitchen table with a long serrated knife (I may be one of few my age who know how to cut up a chicken) flour it in Aunt Jemima Pancake mix, and fry it on the stovetop in Wesson(?) Buttery Oil. Then after it drained on pater towels laid on brown paper grocery bags, she would pack it in a styrofoam cooler lined in aluminum foil. To take to Family Night Supper at FPChurch. The best. DMc remembers her frying little drumlets. I remember begging her to fry me a piece of skin. Ever the addict, I figured if the skin on the drumstick was good, a plain piece would be even better. She repeatedly told me it would make me sick; I said oh, no- so she went a head and fried me a piece. Of course, I was sick the rest of the afternoon. Natural consequences.

UPDATE!! Truett Cathey's cattle farm in Upson County? That area is right next to Pike County and where Mama grew up or where her kin was in th early 1900s.

This from the '56 Atlanta Suburban directory- So, go have a Chic-Fil-A, or order my fav- the Strip salad-really two meals in one. Then a $1.00!!!! Ice Dream Cone!

Happy Birthday Chic-Fil-A!

The real thing

George Stell left  us and we will be the worse for it. A true southern gentleman, and a true southsider. I'll never forget his impeccable seersucker suits on a warm southside Sunday, he and George Raven, another Great One, unselfconciously smoking between Sunday School and Church. Please keep his widow in your prayers; they've never been separated. Here is his obit from the ajc.com.

Fayette County Weekend

Don't forget the Anniversary Celebration at Fayette Presbyterian (see web site) on 92 N this weekend! This weekend will be a great one to hang around Fayetteville- see this article.

my first scheduled stop, however, will be the East Point Historical Society, on Norman Berry Dr.

BTW, finally got to read the Robert Hanson West Point Book-[on your right screen->  ] It is fantastic! Very attractivly done, great archival photos, and great research. Very well organised and useful. Many thanks to Adele Head, our Interlibrary Loan Librarian at the BCPL here for tracking it down for me. I'm also reading, courtesy her, Darden Pyron's Southern Daughter, a biography of Margaret Mitchell. Lots of good info and research. Very SSA.

For you southsiders of a certain age- what do you think of this comment? From the ajc, wed, 5/16

SEND A FAYETTE VENT

Atlanta needs second airport. Build it in Fayette County. All the employees are already located here. We would welcome the chance to give back to Delta and support our employer.
• Read vents | Send yours!

Colonial Stores

Just over at atlantatimemachine.com and saw this pic. Colonial was the first grocery chain I remember in Fayetteville; my first chain grocery memory was of the Big Apple at Jamestown at Herchel and Roosevelt Hwy. I loved going to Jamestown with Linda on Saturday; it was her day off from Ft Mac and I got to spend the whole day with her riding around the southside and shopping. Every part of the day was special, watching Bugs Bunny and Road Runner, riding up Old National, asking about each house we passed, glimpsing Aunt Mitzi's house under dim pines, sometimes stopping, going over the expressway, and finally reaching Big Apple at Jamestown. In addition to grocery items, Linda bought Tog a Longs for me to wear as play clothes. These were matched cotton knits, a unisex precurser to Garanimals. They were displayed in a cardboard endcap in the section nearest the far wall (away from Roosevelt Hwy.)  I shared her enthusiasm for these soft colorful clothes; what I hated was later in the day on Saturday when I had my long brown hair washed and Dippity do-ed and rolled. Then I was set under a hot, burning bonnet dryer for several hours to perfect the sausage rolls for Sunday, when I would get to wear tights, gloves, a scratchy slip, a scratchy dress, and maybe even a hat. 

But before that indignity, I was allowed to play on the 100 foot tall metal monkey bars, on the playground that I'm delighted to see is still there at Jamestown. The only trauma here was my abject screaming terror at the low flying jets that routinely flew over the parking lot. I was still having  nightmares about these planes crashing on to my house when I was in high school. Not suprisingly. 

A visit to the Ranch House ajacent to the Big Apple strip never failed to cheer me, though, as I delighted in the paper placemats with the border featuring various cattle brands traced in a rope font. 

When I began Lee Crest the summer of 1970 we began frequenting Colonial, in Hudson Plaza 2, (at GA 85 and GA 92) since it was on the way between the school and Kenwood. There was a cashier named Jackie who was always kind to me, even allowing me to ride on the grocery conveyer with the groceries.

When I saw this in the garage about to be thrown out- I rescued it and placed it on a high spot in my kitchen.