Greetings citizens of greater Chattanooga!
Hamilton Bush is once again on the scene to provide you with observations, dissertations, excitations, and historical ramblings. Just the other day, Old Hamilton was ambling his way along North Market Street, taking in the sights and sounds of the trendy residential and shopping area, when a dull, rhythmic thudding sound caught his attention.
After a lengthy pause and a glance high and low for the source of the disturbance, your history scribe determined that a motor vehicle, stopped at the nearby traffic light, seemed to be vibrating; nay I say pulsating, with such vigor that the driver must surely have been in the only automobile in Chattanooga sporting the thousand-fingers massage option. Then, above the din, came a muffled lyric – something about being hot. Indeed, the temperature has climbed steadily as the summer days have progressed. However, Old Hamilton gained the distinct impression that the “artist” was not delivering a dissertation on the local weather.
Now, yours truly has been on the cutting edge of entertainment innovation since, well, since the days of AM radio and black and white television. Sure, who among us cannot recall the strains of that 70s classic “Billy, Don’t Be A Hero,” which blared from our parents’ 1974 Colony Park station wagon. Don’t the fond memories come flooding back when one contemplates the strains of “Point Me In The Direction Of Albuquerque,” performed by David Cassidy, his TV mom Shirley Jones, and the remaining – decidedly less musically talented – members of the Partridge Family. Oh, and lest we forget, it was Cincinnati-based Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods who gave us the most memorable version of “Billy” which was originally recorded by the British rockers dubbed Paper Lace. Pardon the digression, but your history scribe considers providing such detailed information to be a genuine public service.
Well, back to the business at hand. Old Hamilton thought for a moment as he stood at the intersection of Frazier Avenue and North Market Street. The initial impulse was to tap politely on the glass and request that the young driver and his fellow occupants reduce the volume of their woofers and tweeters rather than assume the responsibility of providing a musical interlude for residents and pedestrians spanning multiple city blocks.
In a moment of profound clarity, though, yours truly remembered the Colony Park and his erstwhile favorite, “Brandy” by Looking Glass. Yes, that’s the one with the immortal line “Brandy, you’re a fine girl, what a good wife you would be…” To each generation its own. When the orange hand gave way to the slightly stooped stick figure, Old Hamilton started across, and, to his great surprise, found some rhythmic spring in his step. Even though an old dog may not learn new tricks easily, he can at least appreciate them for a moment or so.
Dear Hamilton Bush,
I was browsing through a local antique store the other day and came across an old amber bottle with the words “Chattanooga Brewing Company” clearly visible on it. It had not previously occurred to me that our fair city might one time have been home to a brewery. Can you shed some light on this interesting find?
Sincerely,
Strange Brew
Dear Strange,
From time to time, Old Hamilton must admit that he enjoys a cold beverage, and your question is one which is sure to intrigue a number of readers. Considering that the brewing of beer can be traced back thousands of years (the ancient Egyptians were known to work with fermenting grain) – bet you didn’t know that – examining a local link to this age old enterprise is a worthwhile exercise.
During the last decade of the 19th century, at the corner of Broad and Third streets, stood the six-story brick building which housed the Chattanooga Brewery. The building was sprawling. Mail was delivered to 201 Broad Street, but the entire block bounded by Broad, Second, Third, and Chestnut was taken by the first brewing establishment in our city. About 1889, businessman Conrad Geise invested a whopping $100,000 to get the brewing company started.
As the suds began to flow, orders from drinking establishments and saloons around the Southeast were filled. Whether or not the orders actually poured in is unknown. It is known, however, that the brand names under which the Chattanooga brewed beer was sold included Magnolia, Liebetchaner, Family, Muenchner, and Faultless (which was the house lager). Now, Old Hamilton may not be well versed on the marketing of beer, but the name Faultless doesn’t necessarily conjure up the image of a frosty mug with a thirst quenching draught and a healthy head of foam. And, what would you say to a six pack of “Family” in your fridge.
Perhaps the greatest advertising slogan of all time belongs to Faultless. Allow Old Hamilton to declare that the great marketing thinkers of Madison Avenue could have done no better. No doubt, the guy or gal who came up with “Our Beer Is Liquid Food” was a shoo-in for an Addy Award, or the turn of the century equivalent, that year.
By 1890, the brewing business was sold to a Mr. Charles Reif of Cincinnati, Ohio, who jazzed up the name as the Chattanooga Brewing Company. Therefore, your prized bottle must have been produced sometime subsequent to the acquisition. As the profits rolled in, production was said to have exceeded an annual volume of 200 freight cars. Mr. Reif plowed profits back into his facility, expanding and improving the brewery into one of the most modern to be found anywhere. One must wonder whether the beer barons of the Busch family, Augie and/or Gussie, ever took note of their Southeastern rival.
All good things must, however, come to an end. For a state law, passed in 1909, meant the best of times were in the past for the Chattanooga Brewing Company. The law placed severe restrictions on the sale of alcoholic beverages in the state of Tennessee. Refocusing on products with a somewhat lower alcohol content than the original beers met with only limited success. By 1913, a real “brewhaha” had developed when U.S. Senator Newell Sanders sponsored a bill to regulate the sale of alcoholic beverages across state lines. Adding insult to injury, the state attorney general’s office even labeled the Chattanooga Brewing Company a public nuisance and accused the company of violating state law.
Of course, if all of the above were not enough to make any self-respecting beer go flat, these events occurred on the eve of Prohibition. In 1919, the management of the Chattanooga Brewing Company turned out the lights. The party was indeed over. Glub, glub!
Dear Hamilton Bush,
As a railroad enthusiast, I have to say that Chattanooga is a great place to live. The Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum is doing a fantastic job preserving this important part of our history, and the Chattanooga Choo Choo is a wonderful place to take visiting friends and family. I remember when the famous General, the locomotive which gained fame during the Civil War, was on display downtown. Recently, our family made the short drive to Kennesaw, Georgia, and took a look at the old engine. On the coal car were the letters “W. & A. R. R.” These stand for Western & Atlantic Railroad. Do you know anything about the history of this company?
Regards,
Ridin’ A Rail
Dear Rail,
The full name of our subject was the Western & Atlantic Railroad of the State of Georgia. Founded on December 21, 1836, the line runs from Atlanta to Chattanooga and was one of at least nine that eventually made their way into our city. Traversing a distance of 137 miles between Chattanooga and the capital city of Georgia, the railroad itself was constructed, as funding ebbed and flowed, during the decade from 1841 to 1850.
Construction itself could not begin in earnest until the Georgians struck a deal with the state of Tennessee. General Daniel Newnan traveled from Atlanta to Nashville to petition the General Assembly for permission to extend the railway across the state line. In exchange for the promise of cooperation, should an enterprise in the state of Tennessee seek to venture into Georgia, the request was granted. Hundreds of laborers worked to establish the rail bed, and in 1848 the line was operational from Atlanta (which was known as Terminus and then Marthasville for a time) to Tunnel Hill, Georgia.
At Tunnel Hill, the hulk of Chetoogeta Mountain proved to be a formidable obstacle. Because investors and legislators were eager to reap some economic benefit, a temporary road was constructed to haul passengers and supplies around the mountain to tracks that were laid on the other side. By the autumn of 1849, the first railroad into Chattanooga was completed, and the first train rolled into town on December 1, 1849. A tunnel was blasted through Chetoogeta Mountain by the spring of 1850, opening on May 9.
The Great Locomotive Chase occurred in 1862 when a group of Union raiders led by a civilian, James Andrews, commandeered the General and headed northward with the intent of destroying railroad bridges behind them. Andrews and company came to grief, and one of the most famous stories of the Civil War has endured.
When the war was over, Joseph E. Brown, former governor of the state of Georgia, negotiated a 20-year lease and took over operations along the Western & Atlantic Railroad. Subsequently, the Nashville, Chattanooga and St. Louis Railway entered into a long-term lease for the use of the line. Today, CSX, the modern successor to the Nashville, Chattanooga and St. Louis, operates the rail line under lease. More than 160 years old, the Western & Atlantic route is virtually the same today as it was in the beginning.