This funeral home fan was recently found on eBay. Click to enlarge.
The following is a highly fictionalized conversation which took place in April, 1959 between a 109-year-old house and a demolition worker. The house was located on the southwest corner of Sixth and Pine Streets, and was being razed as part of the West Side Freeway/Urban Renewal project. The history mentioned in this article is true. However, any similarity between this house and other talking houses, whether still standing or not, is purely coincidental.
As a demolition worker walked up the front steps, birds were singing in the tall trees nearby. The morning sun lit up the front of the old structure, just as it had for over one hundred years. The building was once the residence of prominent citizens and, more recently, the location of a funeral home. The demolition worker checked the address against his project notebook, and said to himself, “Yes, this is it.” He raised his crowbar to begin dismantling the pieces of the building which would be salvaged and sold at auction. Suddenly, he heard a loud, “Ouch!!!”
The man looked around, thinking that another worker had been injured. Seeing no one, he again began prying the ornately-carved woodwork loose. “Hey! Stop that!” was then heard. He looked around once more, and said, “O.K., who is that hiding in here? Come on out!” The house replied, “There is no one hiding in here. Stop prying loose my trim. How would you like it if someone pried loose your toenails? Put down your implements of destruction.”
The man replied, “Look, I must not be feeling too well; hearing voices and all. I just know that the city sent me to start taking down this house and many others on the West Side. The mayor says that this is all part of a project to form a new gateway to downtown Chattanooga and revitalize the downtown economy of the City of Chattanooga.” The house answered, “Well, it’s obvious that you and the others don’t know the history of these houses, even though Hamilton County historian Zella Armstrong has been writing about it in the News-Free Press for the past few years. Sit down on those steps, and listen.
“I was built around 1857. They cut down some of the trees around here to build me. This was only a few years after the Western and Atlantic Railroad had entered Chattanooga. The railroad, combined with the river, allowed the area’s natural resources to be harvested, used in manufacturing, and then transported. The city’s population and wealth began to grow.
“In the early years of my existence, I passed through several owners. William F. Ragsdale, a developer and mayor in the early days of Chattanooga, oversaw my construction and then sold me to Dr. William E. Kennedy for $5,000. Dr. Kennedy sold me to businessman J.C. Warner, whose family name was later used in the name of Warner Park. William Snyder, who owned a distillery in the gorge between Cameron and Reservoir hills, was my next owner. Col. James A. Whiteside, who had led the effort to bring the railroad to Chattanooga, owned the land around me. You see that hill above me, up above the new Cedar Street Bridge? Col. Whiteside gave that hill to artist James Cameron in exchange for doing portraits of the Whiteside family. I hope that Zella Armstrong and her friends keep them from ever leveling Cameron Hill.
“The War Between the States brought about many changes to the conversations inside my walls. The Confederates had their headquarters here from 1861 to Sept. 9, 1863. Gen. D. H. Hill and Gen. William J. Hardee discussed plans of how to defend against the Federal armies.”
“The Confederates withdrew to fight at Chickamauga and then for a time encircled the Federal army in the Siege of Chattanooga. Zella Armstrong wrote in the January 9, 1940 “The Lookout” that “again, generals, but generals clad in blue, slept within the walls and sat at desks and tables as they hoped and planned for the day when the Siege should be raised.” Gen. J. B. McPherson lived here until he moved south with the army. After Gen. McPherson was killed, his body was brought back to Chattanooga. He lay in state here, and a large United States flag was draped between my front columns. I was glad to see both armies leave. They cut down nearly every tree around here for lumber and firewood.
“After the Civil War, Timothy R. Stanley, who had been a general in the Union army, bought me in 1865. Mr. Stanley envisioned a development to be called Signal City, and acquired the land that was eventually developed by C. E. James as Signal Mountain.
“In 1866, William P. Rathburn moved to Chattanooga and joined Theodore G. Montague in establishing the First National Bank. He bought me, and moved his family from Ohio. In 1870, Mr. Rathburn became mayor of Chattanooga, and I was again an official residence. Mr. Rathburn died in 1884. In 1891, Annie Grace Rathburn, daughter of William P. and Katherine D. Rathburn, married Clarence Crawford Nottingham in 1891 at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church next door to me, and I hosted the wedding reception.
“As guests arrived, they saw the four tall columns that adorned my exterior. Cathedral stained glass was mounted under the arched front doorway. Entering the front door, the guests could see my large parlor and observatory to their left, and a library on their right. The ceilings of each of my rooms were grandly decorated in various colors and designs. The dining room was described in the Chattanooga Times on March 20, 1883 as having a ceiling of “Pompeian red.” The mantels throughout my interior were of the “finest carved walnut, with elaborate tiling, the tiling in the parlor depicting scenes from Shakespeare’s plays.” Wow, did I look great in my day!
“Mr. and Mrs. Nottingham lived here, in the same house in which she had grown up. They were very generous, inviting people. At Christmas, they opened my doors to the community for a festive meal served on long tables. The Nottinghams, though from Ohio, hosted the veterans of the Confederate Army during their reunions. Prince Henry of Prussia and President Theodore Roosevelt once stayed here. The Nottinghams were also involved in supporting our troops during World War I. Mr. Nottingham was vice-chairman of the Victory Liberty loan campaign, while his wife volunteered with the Red Cross to serve food and coffee to soldiers at the local train stations. Mrs. Nottingham also helped to establish the Junior League and Little Miss Mag Day Nursery in Chattanooga.
“Each life, though, has its joys and its sorrows. I suffered a devastating fire in 1882, and would have been torn down back then if it had not been for Mr. Rathburn. In April, 1929, just six months before the stock market crash, Clarence C. Nottingham died. In 1933, the First National Bank failed, and the Nottingham fortune was lost. Mrs. Nottingham continued to stay here while the creditors sorted things out. In 1939, Mrs. Nottingham died. Various civic groups attempted to carry out what the Nottinghams had willed, that the house and grounds become a city park. However, in 1941, it was announced that the Cosmopolitan Funeral Home, which operated locations in Memphis and Nashville, would buy me.
“Ross (Roscoe) D. Cole became the only manager that the Cosmopolitan Funeral Home in Chattanooga would ever have. He had started with the company in Memphis in 1938. He and his wife, Flossie, lived on Colville Street in North Chattanooga. I understand that Cosmopolitan has merged with Wann Funeral Home, and the Chattanooga Housing Authority has purchased me for $110,000.
“In 1936, the “History of Homes and Gardens of Tennessee” described me as having been “the seat of notable hospitality and many persons of eminence.” At that time, I was one of only four residences still standing that was built before the Civil War. Since then, the area around me has undergone many changes as a result of the automobile and urbanization. In 1900, the entire length of Pine Street was filled with single-family residences with just a few businesses such as a blacksmith. By 1950, there were several businesses along Pine Street as well as multi-unit housing such as the Colonial Apartments and Weedon Apartments. Old houses have been torn down for parking lots, such as the one across the street for Barnes-Rhodes’ customers. And now, there is this West Side Urban Renewal/Freeway project that is clearing everything; nothing will be left standing within its boundaries.
“Some have spoken up to try to save me. However, I sit so far back from Pine Street that the new freeway wouldn’t have enough room. Well, I guess that I could say that as a building, I’ve served my purpose. “Change is good” and “Can’t stand in the way of progress,” they say. One day, however, folks might wish that the urban renewal had never taken place, and that they could take a walking tour of the old homes of the West Side. They might want to stroll underneath those flowering cherry trees which are blooming right now at Boynton Park on Cameron Hill. (Sigh) I guess that I’ll live on in photographs as well as in the writings of Zella Armstong and Penelope Johnson Allen. Who knows, maybe someone will write about me early in the 21st Century. By the way, have you ever heard of an Internet?”
If you have memories of the Nottingham House, please send me an e-mail at jolleyh@signaldata.net. Also, I’m always interested in hearing memories and viewing photos of the West Side and Cameron Hill.
The Nottingham House in 1872. Click to enlarge.