Athens World

Originally posted by Adrian

Jonathan Railey remarked about this Grady Avenue bamboo stand last week in his article on the Georgia Guidestones in Flagpole. He was speaking of “roadside oddities of peculiar origin that dont really fit with their surroundings in any conventional way,” placing this bamboo in a category with the Georgia Guidestones, the Iron Horse — and the Tree That Owns Itself.

So this bamboo is considered an Athens landmark. It needs a name. Maybe it should be the Bamboo That Owns Itself, or even better — the Bamboo That Owns Its House, considering its dimensions. It’s a landmark connected to an Athens institution since it is in front of a house owned by Michael Stipe (I’m not sure which one).

Perhaps it is an invasive species, but I sure would love to have some in my backyard to keep out trespassers. Invasive species are often grown intentionally but carefully tended to. I was warned not to plant English ivy, for instance, but I decided to plant it anyway and keep it cut back when it finally grows. If this bamboo was grown to give privacy it probably backfires by attracting attention. (You know, bloggers with cameras, tipped off by Flagpole writers…)

Originally posted by Tim

It was summertime in Athens and hot as a penny on a stove top. I was about 12 years old or thereabouts. I spent summers on my bike, riding all over town. My mom would make a peanut butter sandwich for me for lunch and off I’d go on the bike. I’d generally get back home around 6 PM or so, just in time for supper. My parents believed in everyone sitting at the table for dinner.

I’d spend the day with some of my friends, riding around town, getting into mischief of one kind or another. On a particularly hot day, several of us kids had ridden over to the Vet School. Back behind the Vet building was a cattle paddock, and in that paddock were yearling steers. We stood there looking at the steers, when one of the guys who worked there asked if we wanted to try to ride a steer. I suppose it was a slow summer for them and the prospect of watching some of us little townie-rats trying to ride a steer sounded like fine entertainment to them. Well hell yes we’d like to try to ride a steer!

The fellow climbed over the wooden rails and told us to do the same. He got a steer pressed up against the slats and I climbed on. He backed off letting the steer off the slats and the steer began bucking. I stayed on about 2 seconds, hit the soft dirt, landing on my back. Up went the next kid, same result. We all tried riding the steers and no one did. By the time we had been at it for what seemed like several hours, there was quite a crowd gathered, all laughing at us. Nobody got hurt and I am pretty sure the steers had as much fun with us as the crowd did. We were covered in sweat, dirt, saw dust and cow crap. All tired out too.

We slowly rode our bikes up the Lumpkin sidewalk, headed to 5 Points. I was thirsty, all dried out from the ‘rodeo’, so we stopped at the gas station (that is now Jittery Joes). The station was closed, but the Coke machine was outside and that’s what we were after. Coke machines in those days came in several models, the one there at the gas station was an upright machine with a narrow glass door. You put your money in the slot, pulled your bottle straight out of the machine after you opened the door. There was a built in bottle opener right under the coin slot. We all got our 6 ounce Cokes and sat down, leaning against the wall to drink our Cokes.

The bottles were returnables and were manufactured all over the place, so we had a game that all kids of that era played, figuring out whose Coke bottle was from farthest away. The plant that manufactured a bottle would have the town and state formed into the pressing of the bottle. When you finished your Coke, you turned the bottle over to read where it was made. It was considered poor form to hold the bottle up high and read it from underneath before you finished the Coke. Drinking the Coke first allowed time for bets to be made about whose bottle was the winner. And so it was that day.

Damn that Coke tasted good. It went down in about 2 minutes. I don’t remember whose bottle won. I do remember that Coke tasting so good, that I got another one out of the machine. I sat back down and took a swig. This Coke tasted funny. I figured it was due to the fact that I drank that first one so fast and that I was so thirsty. Still, it tasted funny, but I kept on taking swigs. Down to the last swig now, and then I turned the bottle over to see where it was from. To my horror, inside the bottle was an old greenish band aid. It was stuck to the bottom on the inside of the bottle and now I knew why that Coke tasted so funny. I wasn’t laughing, but damn my friends sure were. I ended up puking, it just grossed me out thinking about that band aid in my Coke bottle.

It was a simpler and less litigious time back then. If something like that happened today, God knows how much the lawsuit would be worth. As it was though, it was worth millions of laughs to my friends, who took to calling me ‘Coke’ after that day. I don’t think I drank another Coke that whole summer. That was the summer I discovered the joys of iced tea. In a glass. That I filled up. And inspected prior to doing so.

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.)