Most people call it a Trolley Car, but the actual terminology in “the day” was Road Railway or Street Car. Shortly after the American Civil War in 1866, Memphis and Nashville adopted these public road transportation vehicles. Initially they were horse and mule drawn vehicles. Then they were powered by small locomotives called dummy railroads, and around 1889 they began the conversion to electric power.
In 1927 Brown’s Diner was opened using two former street cars as the restaurant in the form of a “T”. Brown’s is the second oldest restaurant in Nashville and holds the oldest beer permit: #0007.
From the recent renovation, these images suggest that Brown’s Diner’s cars may have been powered by mules or horses. But the wheels don’t match the car, and the 38 foot car is too large to be animal powered. One expert thinks these wheels are not original to the car and were only used to move it from the rail line to its current location. Car #1 which is perpendicular to Blair Blvd, and has two blocks of wheel trucks intact which have flat iron wheels 26 inches in diameter. They are not cast-iron like typical street cars. They also lack the sprung and equalized mechanism (suspension system) designed into a four-wheel truck system.
Axle assembly 16 feet from the west end of the car.
How the cars got to this location is speculative, but about 6 months before Brown’s opened in 1927, Nashville hosted the “Parade of Road Railways”, which is featured in Ralcon Wagners book Nashville’s Streetcars and Interurban Railways. Brown’s Diner is located at the terminus of the Nashville Street Railways line at Blair Boulevard and 21st Avenue.
Road and Road Railway Map
The rafters of Car #1 are covered back up with insulation, but here is what it looks like above the new ceiling:
21 rafters spaced about 21 inches apart, except for the ones next to the flue.
Car #1 measures 38 feet long in the interior, 8 feet wide and 7.5 feet tall. Two sets of wheel assemblies are located 41″ from the south end of the original car, and 16 feet from the west end of the car. They certainly had more wheels than just four to move the car. Probably eight wheels on two four set groups.
Car #2 is yet to be examined, but one wheel was discovered near the intersection of Car #1. The mystery is the origin of that car because the wheel does not match any know street cars. It’s more like a wagon wheel consisting of wooden spokes and rim. It measures 32 inches in diameter.
Car #2 is either not a street car, or modified with these wheels to roll it into place. Examination will continue during the second phase of the renovation to begin sometime later this year.
From what has been examined so far, this 3D model represents the known structural elements of Car #1. I will make updates to it as more information is discovered.
My moments of stupidity are well documented, but my strokes of genius may have been under reported…
I was going round and round about the best use of the long abandoned playing field at Brookmeade Park in West Nashville: open space, dog park, soccer field? Native American Living History Village!? After all, it was the site of one of the largest archeological digs in Middle Tennessee.1 Artifacts were dated back to the Paleo-Indian period after the last ice-age. The Woodlands and Mississippian graves revealed an amazing amount of information about the tribes health, diet and mortality.
First of all, I don’t think the general public cares (or is even aware of) the indigenous people we all but wiped off the face of this country. All the more reason to tell the story and pay homage to them here: in a wooded area, on the edge of the capitol city of the state of Tennessee (Cherokee for Tanasi).
Practically speaking, a Living History Village would be expensive to build, and even more challenging to maintain and protect, especially at this location. Vandalism would be expected from the get-go.
Enter A/R. Augmented Reality is in insanely inexpensive compared to brick and mortar construction. In this case, the imagery is readily at hand.2 All the user needs is a smart phone, tablet or special glasses. Scan a QR Code and Bingo! Augmented Reality 3D imagery appears right before your peepers. And best of all, its bullet proof from vandals.
Check out this model in 3D and virtual reality on Sketchfab:
Brookmeade Park Greenway at Kelley’s Point by belmontguy
In 1997 I started documenting the development of the new mega shopping center near Charlotte Pike and Davidson Drive in West Nashville. The limestone rocks photographed here, were just some of the components of 141 Native-American Stone Box graves containing 173 individuals discovered during the excavation. Artifacts recovered date back as far as the Paleoindian Period (12,000-10,000 BC).
The remains were warehoused for a period of time, and then reinterred at an undisclosed location in Brookmeade Park at Kelley’s Point Battlefield. They are more than likely being camped on, and fowled by, human waste and garbage today. This is a shameful despicable desecration of indigenous people.
“The greatest distinction within the data set explored here is the Kelley’s Battery site (40DV392) and the two excavated cemeteries (Figure 8). A total of 141 burials yielded the remains of 173 individuals at the Kelley’s Battery site.” 1
1997 Protest of the Walmart/ Lowes Super Center in West Nashville
“The Kelley’s Battery site (40DV392) is a multi-component prehistoric site located on the Cumberland River in western Davidson County, Tennessee. Salvage excavations were conducted in 1998 prior to destruction of the site by development. Evidence of Paleoindian through Mississippian period occupations was recovered. Of particular interest is the excavation of two Mississippian stone-box cemeteries and associated village. An overview of the excavation is presented along with investigation results. A single radiocarbon date of 670+60 B.P. with a single-sigma calibrated range of AD 1282-1390 was obtained for the Mississippian occupation. The excavation and analysis results determined the Mississippian occupation of Kelley’s Battery comprised a nucleated village primarily occupied during the period of regional decentralization (AD 1325-1425).” 1
Kelley’s Point Stone Box Grave Components circa 1998
“Mississippian Indians in Middle Tennessee usually lined their burials with large limestone slabs. They placed slabs on each side, and at the head and foot of the grave, carefully cutting and joining them. The body was placed in the stone coffin face up and fully extended. A stone slab was used as a cover, and a layer of earth, from a few inches to a few feet deep, was spread over the top. This type of burial is called a stone-box grave. Mississippian people in other areas of the Southeast also used this method when easily worked stone was available.” 2
The siege of the park by homeless started around 2018 and exploded in 2020. The city of Nashville has yet to enforce a variety of laws being violated in the city park including camping, open fires, littering, loitering, defecating, drug use and more. The Metro Greenway has been deemed unusable and unsafe. Crime in the area has risen around the camp. At least 8 individuals have lost their lives to overdoses in the last 2 years. Neighbors surrounding the park are pushing hard for their removal and relocation to subsidized housing and/or treatment for a variety of addiction’s and mental illnesses. reclaimbrookmeadepark.com is a grass roots group spear-heading this effort.
Additionally, the park is the site of a historic naval action, preceding the Battle of Nashville. For two weeks in December 1864, the Confederate Cavalry clashed with a half-dozen US Navy gunboats here. This was the last major offensive champaign of the American Civil War by the South and one of the largest of its kind.
August 2021 at Kelly’s Point at Brookmeade Park – photo by Bill Brewer
A New Park
One of the reasons Brookmeade Park was a magnet for a homeless camp was it’s under utilization. Most people in the area never knew it was there because it is hidden from view under the immense amount of invasive plant undergrowth.3
As soon as the residents of this park are relocated to suitable living conditions, a plan needs to be in place to ensure the parks activity with the local population. There are a variety of possible options for this 14 acre scenic parcel of river-front property. Suggestions include:
In 17971 brothers John (29) and Benjamin Phillips (31) migrated from western Pennsylvania to what was then called Round Lick in Wilson County, Tennessee. It was renamed Watertown in the mid-1800’s in honor of Wilson T. Waters, the grandson of one of it’s founders.
In 2021 one of the oldest Middle Tennessee frontier log cabins was removed from its 220 year old site. It may have been the oldest two-story log cabin in Wilson County. Parts of it were salvaged by a family descendant that hopes to one day restore a one-story version of the Phillips family homestead. A digital reconstruction of the original cabin can be viewed here. Images of the second floor in 2016 can be viewed here.
2016
“Dr. J. M. Phillips, in an article on the Phillips family in the Watertown Sentinel, January 19, 1906, state: that the brothers and their families em-barked southward on a flat-boat on the Ohio River at Pittsburg, thence down the Ohio to the mouth of the Cumberland; that they disembarked there and struck out across the wilderness of Kentucky and Tennessee in wagons until they reached the headwaters of the Round Lick Creek at the present site of Watertown. The settlers followed the West fork of the creek until they came to a big spring in the canebrake, and it was there that they made their final halt. John Philips built his home only a short distance from the spring.” 2
Spring
On December 20, 1801, William Phillips sold 200 acres to John Phillips far $400 in cash. “Beginning at a hackberry on Lytle’s 2.5 west boundary, six poles 3 [33 yards] north of the creek running thence west one hundred and forty-nine poles [820 yards] and three-fourths to a stake; thence south two hundred and nineteen [1205 yards] and a half poles to a stake; thence east one hundred and forty-nine [820 yards] and three-fourths poles to three lynns; thence to the beginning; the whole containing two hundred acres be the same more or less with all its appurtenances.” 4
In the preceding years, John’s land increased to 365 acres. “The Wilson County Court Records of 1803 show that John Philips owned 200 acres of land on the Round Lick Creek and Benjamin 120 on Round Lick and 100 on the Hickman Creek. Both brothers acquired more land as they prospered. John bought fourteen acres from William Philips (of Davidson county) for $40 cash on December 14, 1808; ninety-five acres from William Campbell, for $750 cash on September 27, 1819; 21 acres from Richard Cartwright for $78 cash on December 10, 1829; and 35 acres from Joseph Philips for $350 cash. Both John and Benjamin received grants from the State of Tennessee, John’s on July 20, 1813, and Benjamin’s on May 24,1814. Both grants were signed by Willie Blount, governor.”5
John was a respected member of the community, but did not unite with any church, although his wife Mary was a member of the Baptist church. They had 11 children; six sons and five daughters. All eleven lived to raise families of their own.
“John Philips died July 30, 1846, at the age of 78; his wife, Mary pre-deceased him on November 20,1844, aged 71. Benjamin died only 28 days before his brother, on July 2,1846. Lydia Philips died August 19, 1851. The report of Sion Bass, administrator of Benjamin’s estate, was confirmed by the County Court December 14, 1848.
David Phillips, son of John, was appointed administrator of his father’s estate. However, David died September 30, 1846, only two months after John’s death, before he had completed his administrative duties. Rev. Henry Bass, who married John’s daughter, Francina, was appointed administrator de bonis non, and proceeded to wind up the estate.
John Philips accumulated more than a modest amount of wealth for a farmer of his day. When he died, he owned 350 acres of fertile land, and possessed $1,436.75 in gold and silver, $40 in bank notes and about three dozen promissory notes of various amounts. After the payment of all debts, his personal estate totaled $7,039.69. Each of his ten distributees received $703.96 and thirty-five acres of land.
Among the expenses itemized were: $1.00 to Doke Young for crying sale and $6.00 to W. L. Waters for coffin. The total funeral expenses, including clothing, were $15.75. A tomb stone was erected many years later.
The list of articles itemized among John Philips’ personal property gives the reader a conception of the self-sufficiency of the pioneer home. Among the articles listed were the following: One yoke of oxen [2], 38 hogs, 36 geese, 548 pounds of bacon, 163 barrels of corn, 4,480 bundles of oats, 3,000 pounds of fodder, 1,910 pounds of pork, 12 plows, 3 singletrees, 1 doubletree, 1 wagon, 1 cart, 36 bushels of wheat, 3 washing tubs, 1 brass kettle, 2 teakettles, 2 fat skillets, 5 pots, 2 fire shovels, 2 cotton wheels, 2 wooden buckets, 4 bedsteads,140 pounds of seed cotton, 1 cross-cut saw, 2 coffee mills, 1 deer skin, 1 wash pan, 1 frying pan, 3 bread trays, 1 candle stick, 2 shot guns, 2 rifles, 1 candle stand, 1 handsaw, 2 clocks, 1 pair of sheep shears, 3 pecks of dried apples, 4 bee hives, 3 pairs of weavers looms, 4 bee gums, 7 saddles, 2 sickles, 1 umbrella, 17 ducks, 100 chickens, 13 bushels of Irish potatoes, 2 pickling stands, 1 grindstone, 1 work bench, 814 pounds of picked cotton, 67 pounds of lard, 19 horses, 39 sheep, 18 cattle, and dozens of other items.
There is a two-year discrepancy in the records as to the date of John Philips’ birth. The family Bible of his son, Benjamin, gives it as April 16, 1768. His tombstone records that he was in his eighty-first year when he died in 1846, which would place his birth in the year 1766. Since the Bible gives Benjamin’s birth as April 18, 1766, and was a contemporaneous record, while the tombstone was erected many years after John’s death, the author is inclined to accept the date given in the Bible.
Benjamin Philips’ estate was wound up in 1848. His coffin, too, was bought from W. L. Waters for $6.00. Among the interesting items of his settlement was an allotment of $26.90 to his widow, Lydia Philips, for a year’s support.
The brothers and their wives are buried on a little knoll which was formerly a part of John Philips’ farm, only a short distance southwest of Watertown. A handsome tombrock marks John’s grave, bearing this inscription: “John Philips died July 30, 1846, in the 81st year of his age.Mr. Philips was one of the first settlers on Round Lick, being the father of six sons and five daughters.” 6
1. Phillips Family History – p. 10 Harry Phillips 1935↩︎
2. Phillips Family History – p. 10 Harry Phillips 1935↩︎
2.5 “The area around Watertown was first settled by Captain William Thompson of North Carolina in 1780. He built a fort in the area to protect settlers and provide a safe haven for travelers on the nearby Holstein Trail. After Thompson left, the land became a revolutionary war grant given to Colonel Archibald Lytle, who received 1,000 acres, and his brother, Captain William Lytle, who received 500 acres.” – – https://watertowntn.com/about/history/↩︎
I grew up surrounded by my large, extended family: cousins (close and not-so-close), aunts, uncles, all four of my grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and even three of my great grandparents. Family was the main part of my universe. But it was also kind of confusing for a kid to understand who was who and how we were all related. A few years ago when I was going through my childhood stuff at my parents’ estate, I found a family tree chart that I made by hand in 1965 when I was eleven years old. That was about the time I got the genealogy bug that I have had ever since. That was also the year my mother came into possession of a copy of the book Phillips Family History.
Phillips Family Historywas written by Harry Phillips who happens to be my double third cousin, twice removed. It…
Kelley’s Point (Brookmeade Park) Under Siege – Again
Brookmeade Greenway 2016
December 12, 2021
In the late 1990s I began research on a little known American Civil War battle site near where I grew up in West Nashville. Having served in the Navy, I was captivated by the fact that, not only was it the location of a Civil War battle, it was the location of a Civil War Naval battle. There was little more than a footnote in the accounts of The Battle of Nashville that I could find.
The 1864 saga fell together at my fingertips with the recently released computerized naval official war records (N-OR). About the same time, an opportunity presented itself to publicize this story when the historic site was set for a massive commercial real estate development.
The real estate project was opposed by much of the community. Among many concerns, it was also…
Around 2011 I hosted a wonderful get together at my home in Nashville. My Mom’s first cousin Joe observed: it was the most diverse crowd he had ever been a part of. I hadn’t thought about it, but was proud to hear him say that.
In attendance were a Metro detective, several school teachers, college professors, lawyers and paralegals. An airline pilot, construction worker, home inspector, hair stylists, postman, woodworker and bank executive. A hot dog salesman, chief and former movie executive. A college and high school student, interior designer, real estate agents and marketing assistant. Nationalities included: the U.S., Pakistan, Iran, Israel, Russia and Panama. Ages covered seven decades.
I don’t think I could replicate that event again. In fact I have lost touch with many of them since then. I’m not sure why, but I fear it may be politics. My gut feeling, is my liberal friends think I’m a conservative, and my conservative friends think I’m a liberal. If you’re not with us, you’re against us I can almost hear them say. Being in the political middle ground is a lonely place these days. Kind of like the ole’ Maytag repairman. I guess there’s not much tolerance for a concealed permit carrying tree-hugger. 😉
My favorite quote of all time is from Ben Franklin: “If everyone’s thinking alike, nobody’s thinking”. Think, and try to look at things from both sides. Rotate your news sources. Check your facts. Compromise is the center point of an effective governmental process.
I remember my father pointing out historical landmarks around the Nashville area, such as the famous U.S.C.T. charge on Peach Orchard Hill, but never, can I recall a word about it in my 16 years of education, despite that fact that the Civil War Battle of Nashville was one of the most decisive of the war. It was literally fought in our own back yard.
Battle of Nashville Statues
Somehow I sensed the significance of that turning point in history, and felt I had some kind of connection to it. After all, 7 of my 8 great-great grandfathers fought in it. Ironically, the eighth one was the only one of them to lose his life in it. The Preachers death is a mystery.
I was very aware of slavery however, and felt the after-effects of it growing up in the turbulent Southern 1960’s. I consider that period the third phase of the American Civil War, and hopefully it’s final chapter. That war did not start out as a war against slavery, but it ended up transforming into a fight for human rights.
Growing up in south-west Nashville, I would say at least half the homes had African-American housekeepers, nannies and gardeners up through the 1960’s. We had a dear lady named Ruby that spent at least as much time raising us, as my parents. My brother had autism, and my poor mother needed all the help she could get. Miss Ruby was more like family than a domestic. She even came with us on family vacations to Florida, and I am still friends with her nephew today. Ironically, he and I would play “Army” in my back yard as kids, and unbeknownst to us at the time, we both ended up in similar roles in the military.
My parents helped Ruby out financially the rest of her life, including nursing care in her final years. It was so sad to hear stories of another lady at that facility that has been cast aside by her white family. Ruby remained close to us for the rest of her life.
Horsing around with Ruby
Hillwood High School
I was on the front line of desegregation. In 1971 my all-white high school received about a third of the student population from the considerably less affluent North Nashville part of town. This was not done in a gradual transition, as originally proposed in 1954, but all at once September 7, 1971. Not only was there 100+ years of pent up racial tension, the economic class divide was even more palpable. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for these black students to catch the bus at 6 AM, ride an hour, and end up in “Beaver Cleaverville” where some may have had family that worked as domestics. They were not happy when they got off the bus.
First Day of Busing
Technically, the 11 year old Hillwood High had been integrated by a local family a few years before. But in 1970, there was only one student, and she was the only African-American student in the school. It was essentially a white high school. Ironically, the family lived in the area because her ancestors had been given a tract of land from their former slave masters on the Belle Meade Plantation. Her address in 1970 is listed as 6204 Harding Road, the location of the West Meade Mansion. There were still former slave cabins there at the time. Presumably that is were she lived.
West Meade Mansion – Wikipedia
Unfortunately, my class was the youngest in the school that very tumultuous year. The class of 1976 was the last to see a segregated Hillwood in 1970 the year before. In 1971, for the second year in a row, we were the youngest class on campus. The new 7th grade were sent to Wharton Junior High, and Hillwood became 8 -12th grade. And what in the world were 8th graders doing in the same school as 17 & 18 year olds in the first place? That led to at least one pregnant 8th grader by a Junior that I know of. At least most of our classes were in the former H.G. Hill Elementary building and we had our own cafeteria.
H.G. Hill
The former Horace Greeley Hill school was next door to the high school. It was opened as the lower school in 1971. H.G. Hill made a fortune in grocery stores and real estate around the turn of the 19th century. Hillwood derives it’s name from his vast estate. His name sake, Horace Greeley was a notable abolitionist leading up to the Civil War. H. G. Hill was born in White County, TN in 1873. White county was a bitterly divided community during the war. There were a lot of Tennessee Unionist in Middle Tennessee. Even Shelbyville, southeast of Nashville, was dubbed “Little Boston” by local secessionist.
I was actually naively looking forward to the social experiment we were cast in. After all, every black person that I had met in my young life had always been nice to me. But these new students were not required to be nice to me, and the first day of school was a real eye-opener.
A few days before busing started, someone vandalized our next door neighbors mailbox. Judge William Miller sat on the 6th Federal Circuit Court of appeals. He was the United States authority that had been tasked with carrying out the 1954 Supreme Court decision to desegregate public schools. He had actively been involved in the case since 1955. 1957 saw the first small steps to integrate a hand full of first graders, but it took another 15 years of foot-dragging before the law would be fully enforced.
The mast top of the Judges mailbox had a statue of an eagle with outstretched wings. One night in 1971 the wings were broken off and a white stripe painted down its backside.
We’re Not in Kansas Anymore
As I recall, that first day was just loud. The rules for indoor voices flew out the window that morning. Lunch was a game changer at 4th period in Mrs. Van Buren’s class. Although the teachers all intermingled at their tables, the students separated into black and white on both sides of the cafeteria. Minutes into the first meal, a ruckus erupted on the far side of the lunchroom. A tall black girl from our social studies (ironically) class locked it up with another black girl, screaming and pulling hair. Our white 8th grade administrative aid, Mr. Warfield, rushed over to break it up. She then turned on him, and to everyones disbelief, picked up her lunch tray and smashed it into pieces over his head. I will never forget his dazed look, peas and carrots clumped over his flat-top hair-cut. I never saw the assailant in school after that.
A distinct visible change was the new dress code, or lack there of. Up until 1970-71, the rules required short hair for boys, collared shirts and dress trousers. Girls had to have dresses that could not go much above the knee. Juxtaposed 3 months latter: long hair, t-shirts, bluejeans and pants replaced dresses for most girls.
Cigarette smoking was tolerated in tucked away areas outside the buildings. Pot smoke was common in the parking lots, and at least one student that I knew of dealt “lids” out of his locker. To make matters even worse, the drinking age was lowered to 18, mostly to allow Vietnam soldiers across the country to legally buy beer. The sensible thing to have done, would have been to lower it for anyone with an active duty military I.D.
From age 16 on, I had no problem buying beer. Even if they did, the drivers licenses didn’t have photos, so you could just borrow one. There was a beer store on 8th Avenue North, that would sell just about anyone a 16 gallon keg of beer for $38.
From 8th grade on, at Hillwood alone, there were six students killed in five years from a variety of accidental deaths, mostly alcohol related. I was a pall-bearer twice in one year. One of them was killed by a drunk driver on my motorcycle. After the death of my 3rd buddy in late 1976, my father told me I had lost more young friends than he had in World War II.
Another student was killed speeding to Burger Chef for lunch. Leaving the school grounds without permission was a very common occurrence. It was a free-for-all over all. Skipping school was epidemic. Some teachers would rather have disruptive students stay away, and pass them with a D-. I have a report card that shows 72 days absent with a passing grade.
Although most people from this time won’t acknowledge it, there was a high degree of racial tension and violence between the North Nashville students and those of the Hillwood, West Meade, Brook Meade, Charlotte Park and Belle Meade* neighborhoods those first few years.
*Half of upper-crust Belle Meade was zoned to Hillwood, but few attended. The other half of Belle Meade was zoned to Hillsboro High.
Don’t Take Me Alive
I was in several pretty severe fights in high school. Most were confined to the outdoor “smoking lounge” and gym. I recall defusing the last one with a bluff. I did pick up some tactics in street-smarts while I was there. “Don’t take me alive” was my bark.
In addition to the North-South Nashville divide for the Bicentennial class of 76, there was still some blue-collar and white-collar rivalry between Charlotte Park and West Meade. I was singled out in 1973 by a group of them for some reason. They terrorized me for months, until I recruited some friends from Hillsboro High to even things up. I think it was actually a case of mistaken identity. The reason I mention it, is the response my mother got from the black assistant principal Mr. Hill over the ordeal. He told her it was all he could do to keep the boys from killing each other, and that things were way out of control there.
In my opinion race was an element, but I believe the larger ingredient was the socio-economic disparity. At Hillwood High, you had the poorest part of town being bused into the wealthiest part of Nashville. As an example, there was a black friend of mine who probably got picked on the worst that first year. His parents were both doctors, and they lived in our neighborhood. They might have been the first African-American homeowners in West Meade. Some of the North Nashville kids wore him out. He also got an earful from his white neighbor, when his daughter was seen with him talking one afternoon on the front porch. The last time I saw him was around Christmas 1976. He hasn’t made any of the reunions.
That first year of busing ended in tragedy with a so-called “accident”. In an altercation over a yearbook on the last day of school, a boy scout was left dead in the hallway from a fist to the throat. Not much was made about it in the news. The initial charge of murder was reduced to manslaughter. The assailant was sent to a youth correctional facility. I’m not sure how long the sentence was for.
Many Hillwood area families had already started the white-flight to private schools the year before. By the 1972 school year, pretty much every one of them were full, and new ones were opening in Churches all over Nashville.
Nashville Christian Academy: Founded 1971
Franklin Road Academy: Founded 1971
Harding Academy: Founded 1971
Donelson Christian Academy: Founded 1971
Goodpasture Christian School: Founded 1971
St. Paul Christian Academy: Founded 1971
At last count in 2019, I believe there are around 40 private schools in Davidson County. Pre 1971, I can only think of 7 high schools then.
BGA
MBA
Father Ryan
Harpeth Hall
Peabody Demonstration School
Saint Bernard
Saint Cecilia
According to this 2014 data, Green Hills/Forrest Hills ranks #9 in the country for the highest private school enrollment: 72%
From 1969 to 2007 the white student population in Nashville Metro public schools dropped from 74,000 to 23,000 despite a population growth of over 200,000.
1957: 60,000 students, 48,000 white, 12,000 black (80-20)
1963: 85,000 students 67,000 white 19,000 black, 1000 other
1969: 96,000 students 74,000 white, 21,000 black, 1,000 other
1970: 85,000 students 62,000 whites 21,000 blacks 2,000 other
1971: 74,000 students 50,000 white 24,000 black
1980: 66,000 students 40,000 white 22,000 black 2000 other
1990: 67,000 students 35,000 white 24,000 black 8000 other
2000: 68,000 students 30,000 white 28,000 black 11,000 other
2007: 75,000 students 23,000 white 37,000 black 15,000 other (30-49-20)
My parents were able to get my brothers and sister into private schools in 1972, but things had deteriorated academically at Hillwood so bad, that Battle Ground Academy (BGA) required Hillwood boys to repeat a grade for the few slots left. I pleaded with my parents to let me remain were I was. I would later question my decision to stay.
Even the blue collar workers from the Ford Glass Plant neighborhood were doing all they could to get, at least their daughters, in private schools. There were many empty kitchens and second jobs all the sudden in that working class neighborhood.
Most of us loved these black people that had helped raise us. It was very confusing to be so at odds with such a large group of people that seemed to hate us for no reason. What did we do? It seemed we were caught in the cross-fire of history and the sins of our forefathers.
The Help
My parents provided an automobile for Miss Ruby to commute in, but most of the domestics rode public transportation. About the time we came home from school you could see scores of negro ladies (dressed in white uniforms) standing on the suburban street corners waiting for the long bus ride home. On the drive home one day my friend Clinton made an interesting observation that afternoon: “You know Bob, the black folks today are not much better off than they were in slavery times. They just have to commute to work now”.
Clinton died August 26, 1974 in an accidental death. He was a child prodigy, taking trigonometry in 8th grade. He inspired many of us to read and learn. His influence on my education would be profound.
Everett Walker Assistant Principal
I would say that the chaos was the worst that first year, but it took another year or two to stabilize the mayhem. The best fix was hiring a new assistant principal. He was a rather tall African-American former Marine Corp drill instructor. Mr. Walker ran a tight ship, and everyone respected him for brining order to the school in 1975. It was finally beginning to feel safe, and now we were upperclassmen.
However, the damage had been done. The drain-off of quality teachers to the private schools, incentivized by tuition-free education for their children, took its toll. Worse than that, the most influential families didn’t have a dog in the fight anymore. They left public education and were not coming back. It was the perfect storm – neighborhood schools gone with the wind.
There were at least a dozen really good educators that withstood the fire-storm, and I commend them for their brave work:
“Mr. Walker, Mr. Whitmon, Coach Graves, Coach West, Albert Gaines, Frank Cirincione and Roy Carter were instrumental in the ‘tough love’ side of that, while Ivey Nixon and Shirley Luckett and even dear old Herschel Hardaway brought the tenderness and love a teenage kid needs so desperately.” – Howie K. Class of 1978
Don’t blow it!
I would bet that today, that not one in ten households in Hillwood Estates are in public schools – if that many. In fact, there are so few, they are talking about moving the school to another part of town on the outskirts of Nashville.
Before 1972, I’d bet at least 90% of neighborhoods went to school together. Neighbors knew each other, parents were involved in PTA’s and children were supervised. In general, people were not so politically polarized, that I trace back to a breakdown in community cohesion, and the retreat to isolated, insular communities, Churches and schools.
The Nashville magnet schools are some of the best in the country, but that only provides for a small percentage of the population. I’m not saying that you could not get a proper education in public schools here, but you really had to work for it. The disciplinary problems were so wide spread that it seemed many teachers just gave up, concentrating on a dedicated few. In 10th grade, my English teacher separated our class in two: college bound on one side of the room, the rest on the other. She ignored half the class for the remainder of the year.
If you were a marginal student with, maybe a dose of self esteem deficiency, or ADHD, it was real easy to give up and just do the minimum, which was not much. There was too little adult supervision and inspiration. Our world consisted of a series of social catastrophes: assassinations, Vietnam, Water Gate, a multitude of corrupt Tennessee politicians from the governor on down, and the 60’s hit town about 1972. Drugs were everywhere and blindsided families, schools and law enforcement.
Another development that divided the school even more, was the back-lash against the perceived drug culture with the “long-hairs”, or “freaks” targeted. The jocks against the freaks soon became the new turf war, as even prep school boys joined in the pursuit of anyone looking like a hippie around town. For me, this climaxed the summer of graduation in a convenience store parking lot. I snapped, after a prep school boy called me a long haired fagot. I hurled my Icee in his face, followed up my a right hook to his jaw. My buddy and I barley got out of there in one piece. Bill would be gone a few months later from an apparent drug overdose.
Bob and Bill
In the fall of 1975 I decided to try another high school and got permission to transfer to McGavock on the other side of Nashville. I was hoping to get a fresh start, as I was beginning to take school a little more seriously. But the hour bus ride to school everyday made for an early day, and after a semester of sleep deprivation, I decided to go back to Hillwood to finish my senior year. I got an appreciation for what the kids from North Nashville had to go thru on their daily commute.
McGavock High 1975
By 1976, the educational deficiency was so extreme that some colleges were adopting 090 level remedial classes to try to catch us all up: mostly math and english. The then, Belmont College, accepted a lot of under-educated high school graduates such as myself.
After I lost my 3rd friend in December 1976. I unceremonious cut my hair, poured into academics, and my grades improved. I sold books door to door two summers of college, totally transforming my appearance and self confidence. With some great teachers, small classes, and lot of tutoring, I was able to go from a 1.6 GPA my first semester, to a 3.0, over six years of co-op education.
In 1982 I graduated with a business degree and went to Navy officer candidate school, wanting to get as far away from my past as possible. Maybe I was longing for the order and discipline that was so lacking in my youth. Maybe I was revolting against the revolt. I don’t know, but it fit me like a glove. The highlight of my basic training was on the rifle range, scoring expert in my class. Afterwords Gunnery Sergeant Campos commented: “Henderson, I think we finally found something you know how to do well”. Years later, I almost fell out of my theater seat, when I heard that line about Private Pyle in the movie Full Medal Jacket.
The vast majority of my friends did not survive college academics. Most of them flunked out their first year. My saving grace was there wasn’t much of a social life at the time on Belmont’s campus, I was broke and I worked out of state during the summers. Most importantly, I was told I could not do it.
Shine on You Crazy Diamond
Another wave of tragedy struck in the early 80’s with the cocaine surge. Fortunately, I was long-gone off to the military by then. That one claimed four more high school friends, from Hillwood, Hillsboro and Bellevue.
It was easy to feel bitter, resentful and contemptuous of those that made this weather we had to stand in. Our initial targets of ridicule were the teachers, administration and the Board of Education, but that was not fair. The more insidious element was the 1960’s counter-culture, and the drugs that came with it. Controlled substances poured into the power-vacuum of 1972, 73 and 74.
The most common side-effect of this teen-age wasteland was substance abuse. The cases are too numerous to quantify, including two super-star senior athletes that were our role models in 7th grade. As I write this, I anticipate yet another casualty.
In a larger sense, I believe the American Civil War took 111 years to run it’s course. Some would say it’s still being fought. More can be done, but I have seen substantial racial progress in my lifetime: financially, academically and socially. Having been at ground-zero of act #3, I feel I own a part of it.
Prologue
A few years ago I took a girlfriend to a Rose Park teacher retirement party that was held in North Nashville. We were the only white couple at a very large backyard BBQ, and very warmly received. Almost everyone in attendance had gone to Hillwood High School. Ironically it was the largest social function I have ever been to with alumni of my high school, outside of a class reunion!
“Nashville was almost 180 years old in 1957 (its founding had coincided with that of the American nation), and it wore its age with a certain patrician pride. Early in its frontier history, an admiring local citizen had dubbed it “the Athens of the West” (later remapped to the South by the Civil War and other changes of geography and perspective). Its leaders liked that image; it called to mind a place of reasonable and civic-minded people, of moderately progressive conservatives. In the war of rebellion, Nashville had spread its sympathies in both directions, sending hundreds of its own residents, white and black, to fight and die for the Union Blue as well as the Confederate Gray. It was not a place of extremes, but of the center. Had they been left to their own devices, some Nashvillians apparently believed, they could have worked out their racial problems amicably and equitably.
Such an opportunity for compromise and reconciliation never blossomed in the Nashville of that war-wracked era, and in the postwar Reconstruction era and beyond, the dream of full citizenship for former slaves soon turned to dust. Slavery was gone, but so was the promise of economic and political freedom; every southern state passed laws mandating racial segregation in a “separate but equal” society that assured Caucasians of perpetual advantage in every station of life—in political parties, civic agencies, hotels, theaters, trolleys and trains, from hospital rooms to schoolrooms to the workplace and even the graveyard.
But decades later, in the fall of 1957, a new opportunity was at hand. The elusive ideal of racial equality, often glimpsed but rarely grasped in the United States, was once again coming into focus for Nashvillians—and this time, it was going to be reflected in the quietly serious faces of a few brown-skinned six-year-olds. Powerful forces were rallying to one side or the other, for the children or against them. A fundamental principle of American democracy, as interpreted by the nation’s highest court, was about to be applied, and Nashville would be an early testing ground—one of the first of the South’s cities to put into motion a comprehensive plan for the desegregation of its public schools, and the only one to that date with a strategy of building from the bottom up, one grade at a time.”
“Nashville was learning that recovery from trauma, followed by limited success and a predictable normality, was not news and not history—it was just the way things were supposed to be. And so it happened that the little trailblazers of desegregation, along with their white classmates, eventually slipped quietly back into the anonymity of childhood.” –John Egerton
Statistics
Student Population 1957-2007
1957: 60,000 students, 48,000 white, 12,000 black (80-20)
1963: 85,000 students 67,000 white 19,000 black, 1000 other
1969: 96,000 students 74,000 white, 21,000 black, 1,000 other
1970: 85,000 students 62,000 whites 21,000 blacks 2,000 other
1971: 74,000 students 50,000 white 24,000 black
1980: 66,000 students 40,000 white 22,000 black 2000 other
1990: 67,000 students 35,000 white 24,000 black 8000 other
2000: 68,000 students 30,000 white 28,000 black 11,000 other
2007: 75,000 students 23,000 white 37,000 black 15,000 other (30-49-20)
New Private Schools in 1971
Nashville Christian Academy: Founded 1971
Franklin Road Academy: Founded 1971
Harding Academy: Founded 1971
Donelson Christian Academy: Founded 1971
Goodpasture Christian School: Founded 1971
St. Paul Christian Academy: Founded 1971
Hillwood Class of 1976 (photographed)
1971: 370 Students – 100% White
1972: 383 Students – 280 White 102 Black
1976: 189 Students – 170 White 19 Black
In memory of Hillwood students lost:
Joe Robinson School Year 1971-72
Sharon Arkovitz School Year 1972-73
Bob Kendall School Year 1973-74
Terry Miller School Year 1973-74
Clinton Elrod School Year 1974-75
David Miller School Year 1975-76
Vol. XIFrom my fathers scape book. June 18, 1957, the day I was born.Like most families, my parents read both sides of politics. The Banner was the more conservative of the two.
#busing #civilrights
Circa 1977
Tim Graves and Allen Diehl kept us in stitches with their cartoons. Allen’s impressions of some of the teachers were worthy of Saturday Night Live.
by Tim Graves
by Allen DiehlAllen’s Comedic Impersonation Genius
Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my cousin and I give thanks by honoring our distinguished ancestors. This consists of identifying new family cemeteries and maintaining existing ones. This years goal was to find a new one.
My cousin Billy Pittard located the resting place of our 4th Great Grandfather: Julius Howard Williams. There are two Williams family cemeteries in the area. One is located at 12649 Cainsville Rd, Lebanon, TN 37090, the Julius Williams location is about 3 miles southeast on Greenvale Road (it’s on private property).
Julius was the first to settle in Tennessee of this family line. He was the son of Joesph Williams, which is suppose two be buried there too (although no headstones were legible with the name). The original homestead was near a spring down the hill from the cemetery.
Julius owned a racetrack on Cainsville Road where Simmons Bluff intersects. President Andrew Jackson was a friend and raced horses there according to family legend.
His daughter Rebecca Jane (Becky) married out 3rd Great Grandfather Reverend John Phillips. John Phillips died of unknown causes at the age of 40 in April 1862, only about a week after the Battle of Shiloh. His father-in-law Julius died the next month, and we discovered several other Williams family deaths July thru October 1862. #coincidence?
Becky died a year after the war at age 43. Her children (our great grandfathers and their sisters) were scattered to various families in Wilson and Rutherford Counties.
The cemetery has been very well taken care of over the years. In fact, it’s the most intact one we have discovered. If only other landowners were so reverent of the hundreds of small family cemeteries across the region.
In July of 1944, the 301st Bomb Group flew 21 bombing missions in 26 days. On the 26th, their target was a Natzi aircraft engine plant near Vienna, Austria. Things went south when the fighter escorts didn’t show up. Almost half the bomber group went down in flames by over 100 German fighters. My cousin pilot 2nd Lt. David Kerr was one of them.
74 years latter, we found the crash site with the help of several local Austrians. This is what it looks like today. There are thousands of pieces of the aircraft scattered for many kilometers. Many are clustered near these 360º images I shot on my trip there in 2018.
Letter home from Vienna:
Dear Family,
I am taking my boy Ryan to see the crash site today. Yesterday the family that owns the property treated me like a king. The son of the ranch refused to let me cary my backpack up the mountain. We talked for hours after this incredible exploration over dinner.
Upon arrival, my most gracious host presented me the radio operators chart holder complete with their call tag #30385. This I will give to his sister Mary Ann in Texas when I return. The green coloration on one piece of the aluminum left no doubt this was David’s B-17 F model. He also gave me three 50 caliber rounds (defused) and a couple of squares of flack jacket armor.
3 local Austrians spent most of the day with me cataloging everything from flight controls to bomb fragments. One guy dug up parts with his metal detector at every turn (Steve you would be impressed with his skill). His older brothers were on the scene right after the crash in 1944. Not aware of what this really was, they described it as Christmas-like with all the silver, red and green bright colors – the smell of burning spruce.
As I reached the summit with the family Cocker Spaniel, I was greeted by only the birds and the wisp of the cool mountain air. A cuckoo bird in the distance chimed in. In the distance to the west, a 3000 meter snow caped mountain top stood majestically across the valley below.
From the Rocky Mountains, to the Smoky Mountains it’s the most beautiful forrest I have ever trekked. There is no underbrush like Tennessee, so you can see a long distance down the steep slopes.
The tranquil nature of the landscape juxtaposed with the most violent event imaginable, was odd. It felt so incredibly peaceful in the midst of a 74 year aerial graveyard. It remains like sunken shipwreck. There is a large opening in the dense tall spruces near the top of the ridge line were trees will not grow again. This would be a fitting place for a small monument to the crews.
We found plexiglass from the plane which indicated to me an explosion before it had a chance to burn. We located the precise location were most of the crew where found, buried and reburied in 1947 at Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis, Missouri.
The sole of a boot, shredded nylon, even large pieces of of a leather glove lay scattered on the hillside 74 years later. In David’s plane alone every 500 lb. bomb but one detonated on the way down. A hole the size of baseball in the massive propeller blade was shot clean through. Most of the airplane is less than the size of your fist, and they lay at every step for hundreds of yards down the steep slope.
Some of the airmen in parachutes were witnessed catching on fire going down. I believe that much of the crew were probably killed in the explosions, and most likely died instantly, including David and his copilot.
Eye witness accounts of the fall have been well documented by our host. He has a vast database of information with a map detailing debris over more than 6 kilometers of the area.
The year after this infamous tragedy the area was overrun by the Soviets with fierce fighting. The grandmother of the current property owner was killed in a 1945 rocket attack on her property. Ironically, this was the high-water mark of the Soviet push west in this region.
Our Austrian friends grandfather was able to survive the war and surrendered to the American forces. He told me that most locals in the past have not wanted to discuss the WWII history in this region. This is changing he said.
The family is very protective of this sacred ground and have done a great job keeping it as-is. At their request, we will keep its location a secret. My hope is, that this might give some closure to family still living that never knew their fate. Like so many horrible wars, many times, they just never came home.
2nd Lt. David Kerr and family on his last visit to Nashville.
BNA Bucket list 