Being Amber Rhea

As mentioned in the latest episode of Mostly ITP, this Thursday Rusty and I will be going on a tour of the Miller Theatre in Augusta. Here’s a recent Augusta Chronicle article about the Miller.

Yesterday I was going through my Flickr photos and discovered I have photos of the three most recent stages in the Miller’s life:

Update: Crap, I couldn’t find my photo of the Miller with “It’s Time” on the marquee. But here’s a photo of it from Flickr user army.arch. (He also has a photo of the Springfield, Missouri Solo Cup plant that’s identical to the one in Augusta.)

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Familial anecdote: when my mom worked at the (now-departed) Book Corner in downtown Augusta in the early/mid 70s, she and a friend used to walk down to the Miller sometimes for popcorn.

ETA: Don’t bother reading the comments on the Augusta Chronicle article. While there aren’t any in all caps (as so often seen in AJC comments) and there are a few worthwhile ideas in there, the majority of them will really make you feel crappy.

With my impending trip to Baltimore, I thought it would be a good time to post an essay that my grandmother wrote when she was 18 years old.

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The Ship Christening -

January 9, 1943

[written March 21, 1944, at Converse College]

Those who have not had the experience of christening a ship and watching it glide smoothly into the water, can not fully comprehend the thrill of such a beautiful sight. It was not until a year ago last January that I was fortunate enough to have the honor launching a “liberty ship” in Baltimore.

It was a late day in December when I was informed that I had been chosen sponsor of a new cargo-carrier to be named the “James Woodrow”. Just at the thought of being sponsor at a christening made me almost completely delirious with joy. I had seen many pictures and movies of women who had launched ships, but had never dreamed such a thing would happen to me.

Through the remaining days of December everything was centered around the christening. Mother and I spent much of our time shopping for new clothes. We simply had to look our best on such an occasion.

The 9th of January arrived, bringing with it the eventful day. Since the time of the launching was scheduled for 3:45 that afternoon, my family and a few friends and I left on the 2:00 train bound for Baltimore. I was becoming quite excited by that time, and the train wheels seemed to say in a monotonous tone “It won’t be long now”.

At our arrival in Baltimore, we were met by representatives of the Shipbuilding Company and taken in a custom built car to the shipyard. I thought, as we practically flew through town, that in less than 30 minutes I would be cracking a bottle over the bow of a “liberty ship”.

As long as I live, I shall never forget the feelings I had when I walked up those long, steep steps to the platform. Millions of eyes followed my every move, and I was almost trembling with mingled emotions.

Cameramen were there with their flashing bulbs waiting to take pictures of me, which made me feel like an important actress before an admiring audience.

The time had come! It was just a matter of minutes before the ship would be in the water.

Was I going to have good luck? Would I break the champagne bottle at my first swing or would I miss? One of the men stood by me counting the seconds, as the blocks were being cut from beneath the huge ship. Then, I heard the fateful cry “now”, and I swung the bottle easily at the hull sending a spray of champagne into the cold air. At the same moment, the ship slid down the ways, gracefully into the bay. The manner in which it hit the water was the most magnificent scene I have ever beheld. I was so happy that the boat had been christened successfully, because the sailors are very superstitious, and it is considered bad luck if a ship is not launched properly. Another ship had been sent to war, and I had helped in sending it on its mission.

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How neat is that?

I definitely plan on visiting the harbor while in Baltimore. Jenny informs me (by way of her roommate, I assume) that Fell’s Point is the place to go. I wonder where exactly the Liberty ships were built, though, and if I could go there? I should try to find out.

I bet you thought I’d forgotten about this! But I didn’t, and now it’s time for the dramatic conclusion of the full-page story about Gin-Gin’s 100th birthday in 1967.

(If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.)

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Vivid Memories

From her vantage point of years, Mrs. Foard looks back to a Columbia when “the simplicity of entertainment for youth was perfectly remarkable”—with music and singing around the piano, especially on Sunday nights when girls and beaux would gather. “It was desired that entertainment should be at home.”

Then there was the famous Christmas night “open house” at the McMaster home—”customary for over 50 years, omitting one year for death in the neighborhood.”

And the regular family prayers each morning: “Whenever Father was away, Grandma would take his place in leading the prayers.

“She would always pray, ‘O Lord, keep me from vanity and lies,’ and I would think to myself, ‘I’m not vain and I don’t tell stories’ but, my dear, that has been the greatest prayer of my life—for vanity can be anything, and lies can be everything.”

Thoughts on Today

Miss Ginny Lee also judges that “there will always be different classes into which people fall—Christianity, education, culture, experience—make differences that can’t be changed to save your life.”

And when asked for her thoughts on the 20th century, she said, “The devil is let loose in the world today—it goes right back to the Christian home, or the lack of one. But on the other hand, there has never been a time in the history of the world that so much has been given and done and planned for the elevation of mankind.”

Through her own “giving” and “doing,” the spirit of this courageous, indomitable—yet charmingly gracious—South Carolina lady has brightened the world and added to mankind’s elevation.

Cause, indeed, for rejoicing and thanksgiving that the century of her living has come full circle, and that God’s gift of life to his child Virginia Lee has been a long one, blessed with beauty.

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This isn’t the end of my reporting of the McMaster family story, though. Much to my excitement, I recently received a letter from Jay McKay (to whom I had written in January) and he provided a lot of other interesting tidbits about the family. I’ll scan his letter and the additional info he enclosed and post it soon; there are some really interesting, funny McMaster anecdotes. I’m also going to write him back; isn’t it scandalous, the thought of having an actual pen-pal, with whom I exchange letters via snail mail, in the 21st century. ;)

Note: If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3.

I’m doing two sections this time because one of them is so short.

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Close Family

In the closely-knit McMaster family — unbroken by any death for more than 32 years — there were 14 children, or whom Virginia Lee was the 10th.

Older sisters and brothers were Mary Elliot, Catherine McGregor, Rachel Buchanan (later Mrs. Douglas Mckay, grandmother of Columbia’s present Douglas McKay), Fitz William Jr., Helen Graham, James Macfie, John, Thornwell and Agnes Rice, one of Columbia’s great and most beloved long-time teachers.

After Virginia Lee came George Hunter, Benjamin Palmer, Samuel Buchanan (”Buck,” who operated the famous sporting goods store in Columbia and also was owner of the noted Good Will plantation) and the youngest, Porter Alexander.

A Full Life

Today, Virginia Lee is the last of them. And the 100 candles that blazed in her honor at Saturday’s “open house” at the old family home signified a life that has been full:

—As the nurse who gave 12 years of active service in Baltimore, Md.

—As the Red Cross volunteer over 50, beyond the age for active nursing duty, who paid her own expenses to serve in France with 25 special volunteers requested by the U.S. Government during World War I.

—As the wife and mother whose only child, a son, died in infancy and whose husband was buried on the second anniversary of their marriage.

—As the compassionate woman working with Columbia’s Society of Orphan and Destitute Female Children, and the King’s Daughters, which organized the Columbia Hospital Association in 1892. (”Because of that,” she laughs, “I’m written down in black and white as one of the founders of the Columbia Hospital. That was one of the wonderful things that happen in life—when a little spark starts a big fire.”)

—As a long-time, loyal member of Columbia’s First Presbyterian Church whose records show her baptism there on April 25, 1868.

—And as a vital human being whose zest for life has kept her so active and interested in the world that, even in her 98th year, there was the energy to enjoy a shuttlebus ride on The Carolina Queen, and even to go to the movies. She likes “The Sound of Music” so well she saw it twice!

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Gin-Gin’s wedding photo, from the article:

There will be either one or two more installments, depending on how I decide to break things up!

Note: If you’re wondering what this is all about, start from the beginning: part 1, part 2.

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Became a Nurse

When she grew older, Virginia Lee’s sense of duty and desire to use her talents constructively took her away from the family home to Johns Hopkins University; and there she graduated in the institution’s fourth class of nursing in 1896.

“Those were hard times and I felt I had to make a living,” explains Miss Virginia Lee, “so I went off to be a nurse. And such a commotion it caused! Friends of my mother’s, among them the Misses Hampton Sr., came to see her and begged her not to let me go.

“You see, their niece — Caroline Hampton, who later married Dr. Halsted, one of the greatest surgeons of the day — was at that time a graduate nurse of Johns Hopkins and they told my mother all the hard things involved in nursing.”

Thirty-four years were to pass before she returned to take up her life once again in the tall tree-shaded McMaster home in Columbia.

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Here’s a photo (from the same article) of Gin-Gin as a nurse during World War I:

Also, a few months ago, I blogged a letter Gin-Gin wrote in the fall of 1918, when she was serving in France. (Side note: I think I was using the word “matriarch” incorrectly in that and other older posts. If anyone was truly a matriarch in the family, it was Mary Jane Macfie McMaster, who had 14 children!)

Stay tuned for part 4, to be posted soon.

Read part 1 here.

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A Merry Heart

From babyhood, she grew a merry heart, keyed to the sounds of laughter through the hospitable halls of the home, whose first quarter century weathered Sherman’s burning of Columbia and the years of Reconstruction which taught that poverty need not breed despair.

From childhood, she built a firm faith centered through the family’s religion-centered life that began each day with prayers and hymns in the parlor of the home.

And now, every Sunday at twilight, there is hymn-singing for Miss Ginny, her nurse and the niece who lives with her, Mrs. A. Wadley Kirkland. She still remembers the words, too, but she personalizes them on occasion: “God will take care of ME,” she sang just last Sunday!

In girlhood, she developed a keen mind and a searching spirit sparked by talk of education from the cultured and distinguished gentlemen — judges, lawyers, doctors, preachers — who were frequent guests in the house and who joined Col. McMaster in the battle to bring about public schools and education for the masses.

(Chairman of Columbia’s first Board of School Commissioners, Col. McMaster was called the “Father of Columbia Schools,” and the old McMaster School, now McMaster College of the University of South Carolina, was named for him.)

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Here’s a photo of Col. Fitz William McMaster, taken sometime in the late 1800s:

And here’s a photo of Gin-Gin, taken in 1958 when she was 91 years old:

Part 3 will be posted soon!

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here yet, but when Rusty and I were in Augusta for Christmas, I hit something of a jackpot in my quest for information about the fabled McMaster home in Columbia. Full credit goes to my mom, who for the hell of it decided to get out a box of stuff that was in the hall closet; and among the interesting artifacts in the box was a full page newspaper article about Gin-Gin’s 100th birthday in 1967 (which my mom and Gran went to). This is fascinating enough on its own, but the article also contains a photo of the house at 1429 Laurel St. (!) and some information about its origins.

(Can you believe it was torn down for a parking lot? Shades of Joni Mitchell…)

On Flickr, I’ve posted a photo of the entire article (it was too long/wide to scan). I’ve decided to post the text of the article in a series of blog posts, each one following the section breaks that are in the article itself. The article was written by “Social Whirl Writer” Christie Fant and appeared in The State and The Columbia Record on September 17, 1967. Here’s the first part:

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A century is a long time — an unbelievably long time — for one life to last.

But when the life has been as bouyant and brimful as that of Columbian Virginia Lee McMaster (Mrs. Joseph R.) Foard, the abundance of years granted is cause for thankfulness and rejoicing.

And so, there was rejoicing on Saturday, the day that rounded out a full century of living for Mrs. Foard, a milestone passed, a capstone attained, in the very place where it had all begun — same city, same house, same room.

From many places came the members of the McMaster clan for the 100th birthday of this McMaster daughter. And they gathered for the birthday merrymaking in the old family home where Mrs. Foard lives, a house which has merrymaking and hospitality as part of its history.

The tall yellow residence stands at the northwest corner of Bull and Laurel Streets, built in 1853 by Virginia Lee’s father, Fitz William McMaster (later to become Col. McMaster of the 17th S.C. Volunteers, CSA) and his wife, Mary Jane Macfie.

Virginia Lee was born in the upstairs room where she now spends most of her days.

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Stay tuned for the next installment! And in the meantime, I’m still on a mission to find out exactly what happened with the house in the 1970s. Thanks to Gran, I now have the address of a relative in Columbia who will probably have lots of information. So stay tuned for that, too.

After work today, Rusty and I will be heading to Augusta, where we’ll be staying overnight. Then tomorrow morning, we’re heading to Columbia, SC, to continue my hunt for family history (as previously described), take photos of the city, and just relax.

We’ll be in Columbia until Saturday. We’ll probably record a podcast while we’re there; we actually have topics ready for two separate podcasts: one talkie, and one movie review podcast. It’s also likely that I’ll finish Bob Jensen’s book tonight (only a few more excruciating pages to go) and write some sort of book review.

Maybe it will rain in Atlanta while we’re gone.

My Mom has been using The Google - and using it better than I have, apparently! She found this letter written by Virginia McMaster Foard, a.k.a. Gin-Gin, the McMaster family matriarch who lived to be 102 and whom we suspect was the last owner of the family house in Columbia.

Many nurses developed a closeness to the servicemen they cared for, be they American or otherwise. Nurses spoke of the soldiers’ spirit and valor, like Virginia McMaster Foard, 1896, a Red Cross nurse in France, U.S. Base No. 1, Bellevue Unit during World War I. She wrote this in the fall of 1918.

I have been so desperately busy since coming here I have not written a letter, I am what is called a hospital teacher. I answer inquiries, etherize severely sick, wounded, or gassed soldiers and, incidentally, do all I can for anybody, such as giving flowers, fruits, “smokes” and try to ease home troubles of any nature. I visit the desperately ill, and if a long illness, write once a week to family; in case of death write to nearest of kin…

The English soldier has a smile that will not come off when he gets to an American hospital. Our men are fine. The harder they are hurt the more cheerful they are. They all get the grumps when they are neither sick nor well, but that is perfectly natural. Convalescence is a hard period, and when they get away from battle they do not think restrictions are necessary, showing a national lack of discipline. I talk to them like they were bad boys, give them a good scolding, or laugh at them. I feel so helpless, so futile, such an appalling job. I simply can cast myself on God’s mercy and ask Him to use me each day. I believe I am helping. The boys like me and often I am told I am like their mothers or aunties. You need all the tact of a woman of the world, a never failing good cheer and good humor.

Death seems so close, it certainly is “swallowed up in victory”. Immortality does not seem vague to these dear boys.

Fascinating!

My mom also found this after Googling “Katherine McGregor McMaster.” She was my great-great-grandmother and was known to the family as “Mama.” (I guess that makes her a matriarch, too!) She took her three children back to the house in Columbia to live after her husband, James Woodrow, Jr., died at a young age. Interestingly, according to rootsweb the address of the house was listed as 1427 Laurel Street in 1900. There’s some other info there that might be helpful to me when I go back to Columbia in December!

Also, Mama’s daughter, Katherine Hamilton Woodrow, is the one I may have mentioned a while back, who lived in Decatur in the 1940s. Eventually I’ll get back to trying to track down her old house.

I bought some new stationery the other day. Yes, I’m talking about actual paper, for writing actual letters. I’m going to write a letter to Gran asking for some family history details, and I’m going to include a print-out of this letter, hopefully to motivate her. She knows so much, and unfortunately, one day she will be gone and that information will be gone too, unless someone records it. And that someone is me! I might even do a podcast with her, although I think she might be gunshy. You never know, though! I think I’ll spring the concept on her at Christmas.

Here are some photos (because I couldn’t find the AC adapter for my scanner) of documents I tracked down at the courthouse in Columbia. I realize this might be interesting to no one but me, but I’m okay with that. Click through to Flickr for larger versions of all.

Property card from the tax assessor’s office (where, I might add, the woman working there was very rude to me!):
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In my wrap-up post about our road trip, I mentioned doing research on family history. So here’s what that’s about.

I’ve heard references over the years to “the house in Columbia” - most often from my grandmother, and sometimes from my mom. And while reminiscing and/or telling a story for the umpteenth time, sometimes Gran would exclaim, “I know I have a picture of that house! I wish I could find it!” (So far, she hasn’t.)

I don’t remember when exactly I became more than passively interested in this house. I’ve always enjoyed the feel of old buildings; and as long as I’ve known that the field existed, I’ve been interested in historic preservation. So, years and years ago I asked what happened to the house, and when Gran and/or Mom said it had been torn down, I accepted it with a sigh and chalked it up to another casualty of so-called “urban renewal.”

There was never anything more than that to the story, and I never thought much about it. But recently I’ve become determined to piece together the missing years between 1969 and today. It was during those years, of course, that the house met its sad fate.
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Rusty and I spent the weekend in Milledgeville, which is about two hours south of Atlanta. (Don’t you love how it’s possible to measure distance in hours?) We went on some tours, took a bunch of photos, and spent a lot of time in the big comfy bed at the B&B where we stayed.

I love when we take these little weekend trips. Even though the inn had free wifi of which we partook a bit, it still felt like we were “off the grid” for the most part. And even though I don’t usually go for touristy stuff, I make exceptions when the touristy stuff involves history or other nerdy pursuits. We really enjoyed the tour of the Old Governor’s Mansion and the trolley tour of downtown.

One thing that stood out to me about Milledgeville was that everything is so old. I know there are plenty of old small towns in Georgia, but something about Milledgeville in particular… it seems older. I don’t think that’s just a random perception, either. First of all, it wasn’t burned by Sherman’s troops during the March to the Sea, so there are a lot of actual antebellum buildings. (Peeve: we stayed at a bed-and-breakfast called the Antebellum Inn, but it was built in 1890.) It also didn’t get hit with a bunch of “urban renewal” in the 1960s. (I overheard someone talking about that while we were on the trolley tour, and I gleaned that Milledgeville had an active historical society way before most other places.) It was the state capital from 1803-1868, and, as the tour guide was saying, when the capital moved to Atlanta, Milledgeville pretty much became a ghost town. Its heyday was in the early/mid 1800s.

Speaking of ghosts… yes, of course we went to Central State Hospital! We didn’t go inside any of the buildings, because we’re not down with the B&E; in fact, we didn’t even get out of the car. (We rolled down the windows to take photos.) The place had a very creepy vibe, and I just did not want to be walking around.

Nevertheless, I may have inadvertently photographed a ghost. Generally I think the talk of “orbs” as something paranormal is crap. It’s dust on the lens, people. But what showed up in my photo was much bigger than your typical orb/dust. And I see the vague shape of a face in it (you have to view the original size to be able to make that out). Who knows, it could be something else… but, well, judge for yourselves:

There will be a podcast about our Milledgevile trip soon. In the meantime, check out my photos on Flickr: Downtown Milledgeville and Central State Hospital. And don’t forget to listen to our podcast reviewing two Atlanta swinger’s clubs!

Last night, Rusty and I went to see A/V Geeks Greatest Hits at Eyedrum. It was hilarious and awesome. I hadn’t laughed that hard in quite a while.

Skip Elsheimer’s collection of old educational filmstrips is mind-boggling. He has about 18,000 (yes, that’s the right number of zeroes) filmstrips dating from the 1930s to the 1980s. The ones he showed last night all featured particularly catchy and/or annoying music. And it’s fairly evident that the people responsible for some of them were under the influence of some pretty serious psychedelic drugs.

Some of the films are available on YouTube, including one of the creepiest ones from last night: Telezonia, which is all about how to use the telephone (and includes some painfully obvious metaphors about racial and gender equality). Rusty and I now know what we’re going to be for Dragon*Con and/or Halloween, assuming we can pull it off. I’ve never been good at making stuff, so if anyone has any ideas as to how to recreate the question mark costume, let me know. (Rusty gets to be “Telly;” now, where will we find a shirt with a big Ma Bell logo in the center?)

A/V Geeks Greatest Hits was part of the Film Love series; we’ll be going back to Eyedrum in two weeks for Summer of Love: Sex, Drugs, Rock, Art and Protest in the Counterculture circa 1967. And we’ll be interviewing Andy Ditzler on a podcast soon, so stay tuned.

Orgasm schematic from 1950:

From: The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex by Drs. Willy, Vander, and Fisher, as well as Other Authorities. Cadillac Publishing Co., Inc., New York. Copyright 1950.

View larger size on Flickr to get the full effect. More detailed photos of each page here, too.

Demolition of Avondale Mall has begun. I feel sort of conflicted about it. On the one hand, it’s a mall; and, does anybody know what (if anything) was knocked down to make room for it back in the early 60s? On the other hand, it is fairly historic, being the first enclosed mall in Georgia. But there’s no saving it now!

Well, regardless, I’m glad I got some good photos back in June.

The GDBF and I went to our first-ever implosion this morning. The Wachovia Building on the corner of North Ave. and Peachtree St. was demolished this morning at 8:00 a.m. (well, more like 8:20). We met Joeventures and a couple of his friends at the Krispy Kreme on Ponce around 7:00, and walked over to the demolition site soon thereafter. (We overheard some fellow implosion-goers at Krispy Kreme: “It’s demolition day!!”) The streets were blocked off for about two blocks around the building. There was a sizable crowd, which continued to grow the closer it got to 8:00. It was sort of like tail-gating. People in nearby apartment buildings were hanging out on their balconies and roofs, watching.

While hearing the explosions and watching the building fall like a house of cards was super-cool, I also felt a little pang of sadness. I was one of the apparently few Atlantans who felt the building shouldn’t be demolished. Ah, well. At least the site will be put to good use with condos and retail. But the Wachovia Building was unique, so I just hope the buildings that go up in its place don’t look too cookie-cutter.

Rusty has more photos on Flickr. (He also photographed the building back in May, before much pre-demolition work had begun.) There’s also a podcast coming. We recorded before, during, and after the implosion.

RIP, Wachovia Building. B: 1959, D: 2006.

Wow. What to say about this weekend?

I’m still recovering, since I’ve been going a mile a minute all day today with work stuff. But I need to try to put together some kind of wrap-up…

As mentioned previously, Friday night we hung out at the Hyatt with some fellow bloggers and their entertaining friends. A podcast resulted. (Sorry about the lackluster sound quality, but we were in a crowded, noisy bar; whaddaya want?) I’m pretty sure we were invited to an orgy. Well, it was either a thinly veiled invitation or just a statement of fact, though given the general environs I think the former is more likely.

Saturday morning I had to get up early to go get my bi-monthly haircut. After that, breakfast at Radial, and a quick trip to Junkman’s to get more appropriate attire, we were back at Dragon*Con. We participated in a panel entitled Interviews: Getting and Doing, which was part of the new podcasting track. And shockingly enough, a podcast of the panel is available by clicking the link on the panel name!

After that panel, Rusty headed home to watch football. I stayed and met up with Leann of Tag in the Seam and Laura of The Coffee and Tea Show and The Rocky Horror Podshow. They both are awesome, amazing, and hilarious, and I’m really glad we finally got to meet IRL! I also ran into Sam of The Bear’s Grove, another kick-ass GAPN affiliate.

Later that afternoon, I participated in the Women in Podcasting panel, the podcast of which should be available tonight is now available. Leann tried to persuade me to stay around for some more events and general debauchery after that, but I was so wiped out that I went home and went straight to bed.

Sunday morning we got up early and set out for Augusta, on a mission to photograph the locations of a bunch of former nightclubs from 35+ years ago. These were all clubs advertised in the 1971 magazine, “The Scene in Greater Augusta” (see Flickr set or listen to the podcast). We managed to track down most of the places we were looking for - although a few of the locations are in dispute from people who would know better than me, since they were actually alive at the time. Anyhow, it was a lot of fun, and you can see the photos here. On the way home that night, a long discussion ensued about how we love history, architecture, and especially when the two come together and include people’s personal memories and anecdotes.

Monday? Back to Dragon*Con to participate in one more panel: Podcasting Directories. The recording of that one should be up within the next few days.

Overall, the weekend was a blast. I had way more fun at Dragon*Con than I’d expected. Next year, we want to plan ahead and really do it up. (And who knows, maybe we’ll be big hotshot podcasters by then! Eh, probably not; but we’ll still throw a good hotel room party.)

Anyway… It was great to meet so many fellow podcasters this weekend. I would try to list them all, but I know I’d forget someone and then feel like an ass - so I’ll just say, you all know who you are! I would, however, like to give a special shout-out to Swoopy and Derek of Skepticality and thank them for putting together the podcsating track. I can hardly wait for next year!

Now… maybe eventually I’ll get caught up on blogging, blog-reading, etc., amid dealing with the obligations of my day job and trying to get some sleep!

So, who out there has a some extra dough laying around to spend on a beautiful historic building in Birmingham, Alabama? The Birmingham News Building, built in 1917, is scheduled to be demolished in September to make way for - get a load of this - a parking lot.

Jesus. Knocking down unique historical structures in favor of more pavement is so 20-30 years ago. Or at least I thought so. I guess I was wrong in thinking we were finally getting past that mentality.

Remember the podcast Rusty and I did a few weeks ago, about Augusta nightlife in the seventies? (If you don’t remember, you’d better git yer ass over to the Georgia Podcast Network and listen to it.) Well, I finally got around to scanning some of the pages of one of the magazines we read from, so you can see the hilarity for yourself. Also, Rusty and I have plans to go to Augusta next Sunday and go around photographing the locations of the former clubs mentioned therein. Should be very interesting (to us, anyway; we’re dorks like that).

The Williams Printing Company building on Spring St. (well, and Williams St. too, appropriately enough) is being knocked down. It always makes me kind of sad to see a cool old building like this come down, because it’s been a part of the city for a while and you know there’s some history there, even if you don’t know what that history is. And damn, the Williams building would’ve made really cool lofts.

Tony did a post a few weeks ago mentioning that all the buildings along that stretch of road are going to be demolished, but I don’t remember the reason, and I’m too tired to look for the post. Anyway, I managed to get a few pictures of the building Sunday evening, when it was still partially in existence.

Holy crap. (They had streetcars in 1953, ya know.)