Hail Chattanooga!
Hamilton Bush here, once again, to regale readers with historical highlights and time-tested tidbits that offer probing and insightful commentary on the past, present and future of our beloved city and environs.
Lately it seems that, in spite of our economic travails, there is something profoundly good and worthwhile that is making a comeback locally.
Now, Old Hamilton remembers a pork and beans commercial that played on television when he was a young man in the late 1960s. Matter of fact, the clearest memory of it was its then-unappreciated interruption of the 4:30 p.m. airing of Daniel Boone, starring Fess Parker and Ed Ames. Parker, you will remember, always got the best parts, including Boone, Davy Crockett and James J. Andrews, famous as a raider who led the theft of the locomotive General (the latter roles were in Disney films). Ames was well-known as a singer, along with his brothers. With Parker in the title role and Ames as his American Indian sidekick Mingo, a catchy theme and the splitting of the tree trunk with a thrown tomahawk were all a young man needed to be thoroughly captivated by Daniel Boone.
But … I digress! Back to pork and beans. The jingle went on merrily, “Simple pleasures are the best … in all the world!” Well, your history hound must admit that it is a bit of a stretch to equate one’s happiness and simple pleasure with a big spoonful of pork and beans, but, as Momma Bush used to say, “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!”
The point, dear readers, is this. Old Hamilton, shuffling about town, stopping in at Starbucks for a latté purchased with change he has scraped up from the slots of drink and newspaper machines and from underneath the cushions of both leather and cloth sofas, or ambling along the Riverwalk, even tripping over to the post office on North Market Street, has noticed more people just out enjoying the day – with their families, children and pets. These, of course, must be leashed and cleaned up after – both the children and the pets!
Activities involving good exercise, the great outdoors, family and friends don’t have to cost a lot of money. Play Parcheesi, take a walk, throw a stick for the dog, ride a bike with your kids - they’ll love you for it. Simple pleasures really are the best, and this becomes especially true when times are tough.
By the way, Old Hamilton enjoys a little brown sugar, ketchup, and occasionally even some bell pepper in his pork and beans. Leave the bacon in, too, and pass that big, old spoon.
Dear Hamilton Bush,
In a book named I Hear America Singing, I saw a reprint of a sheet music cover titled “Lookout Mountain.” I since have found the sheet music and a player piano roll, both copyrighted 1917, words by Joe Goodwin, music by Halsey K. Mohr. Were these guys Chattanoogans, and what else can you tell me of the song?
Sincerely,
The Sound Of Music
Dear Sound,
Picture this, Old Hamilton dressed in plain, unadorned black shirt and trousers, both appropriately blousy, arms outstretched and twirling in circles adjacent to the panoramic vista of our fair city, Moccasin Bend and the beautiful valley below the crest of Lookout Mountain. Here’s a secret! Your faithful scribe has always harbored an ambition to reenact the opening scene of the Julie Andrews classic film. Alas, such an endeavor could be deemed as a little over the top, and one thing Hamilton doesn’t need is bad media exposure.
Nevertheless, should the day arrive when traffic through Point Park can be halted for a few minutes and appropriate coverage of the event can be arranged, Old Hamilton is game for a downright bursting into song. Here’s the perfect lyric:
“Dear old mountain, look for me from your mountain height/There’s a girl I love who waits on Lookout Mountain.”
Of course, the most problematic issue would be to find the appropriate girl. That, friend, is another story for another time in another venue – perhaps a cold one at The Terminal BrewHouse.
To your question – the song “Lookout Mountain” does indeed take full advantage of the lyrical needs that Goodwin and Mohr sought to fulfill. Too bad, though, that there is no evidence that yours truly can document to substantiate that either of these musically inclined gentlemen ever visited Chattanooga or Lookout Mountain, or for that matter, even knew the exact location of our beloved rock coming to a point. Seems, at best, that the four syllables of “Lookout Mountain” simply fit their rhyme scheme most appropriately. One must give them credit; it does flow a little better than the three syllables of “Mount Rushmore” or the five syllables of “Grandfather Mountain,” which in itself would be odd considering that we are discussing a love song.
At any rate, Mr. Goodwin was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, on June 8, 1889, and died in the Bronx, New York, on July 31, 1943. He was a vaudeville performer and toured with the USO, entertaining our American Doughboys in the fields of France during World War I. He is also said to have collaborated with such composers as Al Piantadosi, Mark Fisher, George Meyer, Gus Edwards, and Louis Alter, in addition to Mr. Mohr. Among his toe-tapping hits are the memorable “Baby Shoes,” along with “They’re Wearing ‘em Higher in Hawaii” (is that the state song?) and the famous “When You’re Smiling.”
Mr. Mohr was indeed the collaborationist with Goodwin on the Hawaii tune noted above and a rousing patriotic ditty called “Liberty Bell.” He is described by some as a moderately successful composer during the early years of the 20th Century. He and a gentleman named Ballard MacDonald also worked together to produce the memorable “Piney Ridge” in 1915. Of course, our local favorite of the dynamic Goodwin-Mohr duo remains “Lookout Mountain.”
Dear Hamilton Bush,
As a relative newcomer to Chattanooga, I was asking for directions not long ago and was told to cross what I thought was the “Old Johnny” Bridge. As I drove along, past the gleaming façade of the new Blue Cross Blue Shield of Tennessee headquarters atop Cameron Hill, I noticed a plaque that stated the span across the Tennessee River was actually the “Olgiati” Bridge. Of course, stopping to read the sign in its entirety would have been hazardous; therefore, I turn to you for answers. Who was this individual named Olgiati, and what brought the bridge into being?
Regards,
Old Johnny Come Lately
Dear Old,
The modern Olgiati Bridge is named in honor of one of our city’s former chief executives, Mayor Peter Rudolph Olgiati, who held the office for three terms, from 1951 to 1963. Mr. Olgiati passed away two decades ago at the age of 88; however, he has left a lasting legacy in Chattanooga. Born in the town of Gruetli, in Grundy County, the future mayor and family moved to the city in 1913. He grew up in Alton Park and St. Elmo and worked primarily in construction.
As the superintendent of Chattanooga’s Warner Park, he was employed by the Public Works Department in the 1930s and then served with the U.S. Army during World War II. His first foray into politics came in 1947 when he ran successfully for the office of Commissioner of the Department of Public Service, a position to which he had previously been appointed.
In 1951, Mr. Olgiati - known popularly as Rudy - defeated incumbent mayor Hugh Wasson and began an ambitious campaign to ensure that Chattanooga was on the leading edge of development and modernization. His “Program of Progress” was announced at a cost of $100 million and with the hope that federal money would foot at least a portion of the bill. The investment resulted in the creation of infrastructure that has shaped the landscape of Chattanooga and facilitated the completion of an interstate system around the city - the first in one of Tennessee’s major population centers.
Elected in 1955 and again in 1959, Mayor Olgiati lost a 1962 bid for the Democratic nomination for governor of Tennessee to incumbent Frank Clement. However, his agenda of major public works projects and infrastructure in Chattanooga continued. As the 1950s waned, Rossville Boulevard had been widened, a second tunnel had been constructed through Missionary Ridge, the Olgiati Bridge had been completed (it was subsequently widened a few years ago), Lovell Field had been upgraded, an overpass on Dodds Avenue was finished, and a number of downtown streets were converted to one-way to supposedly improve traffic flow. Much of the one-way traffic routing was undone during the administration of Mayor Bob Corker, who served from 2001 to 2005 and is now a U.S. Senator from Tennessee. By far the most controversial project undertaken during the Olgiati administration was the Golden Gateway Project, a revitalization of the west side of the city that included the building of the bridge which bears his name and the controversial flattening of the top of Cameron Hill for fill dirt to be used in the construction.
Initially, Olgiati called the flattening of the hill’s crest “a surgeon’s blade removing a malignancy that was past responding to other treatment.” Historians and preservationists opposed the $15 million project, and the fight went all the way to the Tennessee Supreme Court, which dismissed a lawsuit intended to prevent the project from going forward.
Mayor Olgiati did temper his zeal in regard to the loss of historic homes and the changing of Chattanooga’s landscape. However, the top of Cameron Hill came off in the summer of 1962, a number of old homes were torn down, and Chattanooga has since seen another resurgence of redevelopment on its west side.
Olgiati was defeated by Ralph Kelley in a 1963 bid for a fourth term. Thanks to Mayor Olgiati, the city has been better prepared for the growth that it has experienced during the last quarter century.