Author: athensworld

Originally posted by Adrian

The Lumpkin House, built by the nineteenth-century Georgia politician Wilson Lumpkin, is on the University of Georgia campus. His daughter, Martha Compton, sold the house and the surrounding acreage to the university, and the story goes that it was conveyed only on the condition that if the house is ever torn down then the land would revert back to the family. That story explains why the old house is allowed to still stand.

That is not exactly true, however. Prof. Randy Beck from the School of Law obtained a copy of the deed and showed it to my first-year property class this semester during the segment of our course about defeasible fee simples. My classmates and I quickly deciphered the instrument as conveying a fee simple absolute with a restrictive covenant.

This means that if the university did tear down the house, they would keep the land regardless. The heirs may have standing to sue for breach of contract, however. How they would be identified and contacted in order to cooperate is anyone’s guess.

So I would file this silly story behind the one about the Tree That Owns Itself.

Originally posted by Adrian

I asked Prof. Bob Burton what he thought of the recent discussion in the Athens Banner-Herald about the viability of commuting by bicycle. He said he hadn’t kept up with it but agreed the editorial that started it sounded silly. Basically, the ABH said that commuting by bicycle is impractical and accommodating it is a waste of money. Bob said he has been using a bicycle at the university for 49 years, beginning in his undergraduate days. When he lived in Reed Hall he thought he may have had the only bicycle on campus, and as a reaction to this transportation choice someone put his bicycle in a tree. He got it out somehow. Many mornings I see him riding down Jackson Street on his way to Peabody Hall. Of course, it helps to have your own office to make it easier to store your belongings and change out of your Spandex duds.

Originally posted by Adrian

The worst problem my friend is experiencing from his house guest is that this visitor has taken about one shower in the two weeks since he arrived. My friend offered to wash his clothes, but he said, no, he didn’t want detergent on his clothes. The visitor is supposedly still recovering from time living in a tent in Athens and following a guru he believed to be Jesus Christ. It seems that the visitor doesn’t have his personal convictions in order because he is shifting among different ideas on a daily basis. My friend had been warned that this man was obviously a little different because he was seen dancing in circles along the streets of his hometown. This visitor is well-read and intellectually challenging, though, so I wouldn’t even begin to question his searchings. The visitor has procured items that suit his vegan diet during his stay, and my friend has enjoyed the new abundance of interesting bagels and whatnot. My friend’s apartment is near campus and downtown, so the visitor has the heart of Athens at his disposal.

Originally posted by Adrian

He said his name was “Charles, Prophet Charles.” He lives in a tent and ministers full-time, though he is infinitely better groomed than your average tent dweller. He said he was going downtown to spread the Word. He explained that he gets money by simply finding it on the sidewalk downtown — presumably dropped by drunk people — and sometimes it’s huge wads of cash. God tells him where to walk to find it. I’ve certainly never found anything more than a dime downtown, so who am I to doubt his divine influence.

Originally posted by Adrian and since edited for clarity.

My grandfather Richard Merchant visited Athens yesterday. I learned that for two years in the 1940s he worked for the Sanborn Map Company in New York. Just this week Tim, who has been reading this blog and will hopefully soon write here, wrote to me about the Sanborn fire insurance map collection at UGA. I called Tim to ask where we might find them, and he told me to go to the Map Room at the Science Library.

In the Map Room we met Tom Hardaway, and we told him about our interest in the Sanborn maps. We figured it might be nice to find a map from approximately the time Richard worked for the company. Tom found a map of Dalton, Georgia, from 1941, and he offered to give us a special viewing of the original color map, explaining that he normally directs patrons to the black-and-white microfilm copies. (After all, Richard was the assistant foreman in the coloring department, so he could appreciate the full color version better.) Tom was kind enough to engage Richard in telling a bit about his life story and found other maps that interested him. Richard talked about his map making experience with Sanborn and the Air Force, and Tom told us that fire insurance maps are not even printed on paper anymore in the computer age. Another staff member, John, joined us for a while, and he gave my grandfather a copy of a “Soldier’s Map of Atlanta” from the 1940s.

Originally posted by Adrian

David: “WUOG News…bringing you the hard-hitting investigative journalism you deserve and asking the important questions of important people.”

Chris: “What the hell is this? Who the hell are you? Where the hell are we? What the hell is this microphone looking thing?”

from a promo script already aired and transcribed on wuog.org

WUOG is the student-run radio station at the University of Georgia broadcasting on 90.5 MHz FM. If you tune in at various times you’ll hear a lot of different music — including rock, jazz, reggae, country, and all kinds of foreign stuff — as well as a range of talk programs, news reports, various announcements, remote broadcasts, and even live performances by bands playing at the radio studio itself.

Continue reading “Chris Tucker, WUOG News Director”

Originally posted by Adrian

The Arch is considered to be the gateway to the University of Georgia as it stands at the northern edge of North Campus. It is also considered to be a mystical object that will cause freshmen that walk through it to become sterile. Indeed, while observing people on the walkway that the Arch stands on, you may see some intentionally walk around it while others that walk through it do so in a snooty manner that publicly signifies that they are not freshmen. Or perhaps knowing this myth causes me to assume too much about the manners of these pedestrians. In either case, considering the placement of the steps beneath it, the three columns, and the volume of pedestrians, walking past or through the Arch requires careful attention.

The Arch is a popular landmark that appears on many postcards. In the Athens area you can buy postcards showing the Arch during the day, the Arch at night, the Arch in the rain, the Arch in the snow, the Arch covered in vomit from drunken students, and so on.

According to A Postcard History of Athens, Georgia by Gary L. Doster, the Arch was cast in iron around 1856. It is a representation of the arch on Georgia’s state seal, though the seal does not depict lamps at each end of the arch. These lamps on the University’s Arch are only turned on for postcard photography season. Doster’s account says that each of the pillars stand for Wisdom, Justice, and Moderation (Georgia’s state motto), while another account says they represent the three branches of government. (Perhaps the motto was meant to describe the branches?)

The Arch, being the gateway that it is, is the site of much activity. At times you will find protesters gathered there or flowers laid on the steps for a memorial service.

One thing is certain: There is only one Arch. Perhaps inebriated people downtown see two on occasion, but there is really only one. Resist the urge to speak of “the arches” as many people do — that will only encourage Georgia Tech fans to claim that people at UGA can’t count.

Originally posted by Adrian

Let’s get two things straight: 1) Trees have no rights. They can’t own jack. 2) The so-called Tree That Owns Itself is long dead and doesn’t exist anymore.

When you hear about the Tree That Owns Itself, you think, Hey, that’s sounds kind of neat. That sounds like an interesting Athenian story. I wonder how that happened.

Well, it’s a nice little Athenian story all right, but it’s just a big letdown. It didn’t happen at all! It’s just a wacky little story, OK? Just let it go. If you can understand why people like the story and why the great white oak tree became a landmark, then you can understand Athens. If MIT students were responsible, it would be called a hack or something. The fraudulent stone marker in front of the tree says:

For and in consideration of the great love I bear this tree and the great desire I have for its protection for all time I convey entire possession of itself and all land within eight feet of the tree on all sides. –William H. Jackson.

William H. Jackson was deceased when this marker was put up, and he never owned the land to allow him give it away in the first place! The current Tree was derived from an acorn off the original and planted in the same spot. If you want to see the Tree and you want to take the easy way there from West Broad Street, you’ll have to drive up some damned bumpy cobblestones that are seriously due for a repaving.

If you want all the dates, go get a history book like I did. (I read A Postcard History of Athens, Georgia by Gary L. Doster.)