In 2001, during my first attempt at college, I was contacted by a friend from high school who was transferring to Georgia State. He and two other friends were looking at houses near campus and wanted to know if I would like to be the fourth roommate. I asked him to send me the address so that I could go check the house out myself and see if it would make sense. The address he sent me was familiar, and at the time I was unable to figure out exactly why that particular combination of numbers and letters was so memorable. A quick google maps search later and I immediately knew the exact house they were looking at.

Almost unbelievably coincidental that house at 484 was once the house where two friends of mine had lived in at separate times. In the late 2000s members of the Eta Gamma chapter of the Sigma Nu fraternity at Georgia State occupied both 484 and 488. Two years before I would be asked to join my friends in that house I had attended multiple parties at the connected houses. A school year later and the brothers of Sigma Nu moved and were replaced by four sisters from the Zeta Tau Alpha sorority.

The following year my friends and I moved into the house and naturally (after drawing out of a hat to see who got which room) I drew the same room both of my friends had lived in previously. This room is what inspired me to write about this neighborhood in Atlanta. There are many more historically significant and interesting places in the city but there, in that room, I would sit at my desk looking out my windows at the old pecan tree in the field across from me (I even drew the tree in the center of my desk).

Above is a Google street view capture from 2011 showing the 484 house on the corner, my truck on the side street and the pecan tree in the back left. 1

Other than simply being a random, solitary tree in a vacant lot this tree ended up earning a place in my heart. Across the front side of the house is the Philadelphia Baptist church. I used to watch the members of the church leave service on Sundays and throw sticks and stones into the tree in order to dislodge the pecans from the tree to be used in pies, cakes, cookies, and other baked goods. It was a beautiful tradition that must have lasted many decades. The tree was quite tall, nearly two feet thick, and most certainly was over 50 years old.

Last year I was in the neighborhood for my friend’s graduation. Afterwards, I took a detour to go see the old house and had my heart broken. The tree had been cut down and now townhomes stand in its place. A reminder that urban growth has no place for sentimentality and nostalgia. The discovery of my beloved pecan tree made me think about what other places full of memory have been torn down in my old neighborhood and what still remained from the past. Most of the houses on Martin St. are newer builds – the oldest being roughly twenty years old by the time I moved in and most being about ten years old.

The first building I was motivated to research is the Philadelphia Baptist church. The church across the street of the 484 house (at 481 Martin) who’s members I would watch (and sometimes join) collect pecans out of the aforementioned tree. The earliest map I was able to find showing the existence of the church is from the 1911 Sandborn map. Little information is available on when the church was built but it would have been between 1899 and 1911, as a result of the growing neighborhood.

1911 Sandborn Map - shows the then Salem Baptist church in the top right corner.
Salem Baptist Church seen in the top right of this 1911 Sanborn map, #505.2

Around 20 years later there was an article published in the Atlanta Daily World that tells a wild and humorous story about the former paster of the church and possible arson. A one Mr. C. L. Wilder was dismissed from the church after a series of events starting with his proclamation that because the church was behind on its mortgage but had an $8,000 insurance coverage, “it would be best if the church had a fire.”3

After the church did in fact have a fire, Mr. Wilder claimed that it was an, “act of God” a coincidence that the congregation did not believe. The article unfortunately doesn’t continue with details on whether or not he was arrested on arson charges or not, only that he was not to be allowed the ability to “interfere” with the selection of a new minister.4

For the most part of the church’s history things operated smoothly. A commonality at the time, the Salem Church was a small local, community church that existed nearby dozens of other small churches. The neighborhood church was meant to be smaller, more intimate, and most importantly walkable. The church would undergo multiple pastors and name changes throughout its history. But, it appears that the location of the original church foundation stayed in the same place. As seen below in this Sandborn map from 1950 the location and name remained the same from its creation in the early 1900s into the 1950s.

In 1980, the church would undergo a name change from Salem to the New Zion Hill Baptist church with new management as well. In September they held a special service in acknowledgment of their newly gained charter. To celebrate the church invited members of the community to join them in a special sermon and they had a guest pastor, a Dr. Samuel B. Jordan, from Pennsylvania to deliver the service.5

From here the church would operate in the community as it most always had until recently when it changed its name for the last time to the Philadelphia Baptist church. Curious to me if the guest pastor from nearby Philadelphia had any long lasting influence on the church group.

Early drawing of the Summerhill School.6

The Summerhill school was built in the late 1860s during Reconstruction to serve the black community in the neighborhood. By 1872, when the school board was founded, the Summerhill school was likewise charted into the school district. In 1897 an article written in the Atlanta Constitution about the Summerhill school describes it very pleasurably. It commends the school and the community for the participation of the students and the service it provides. It interesting however to see how the writer of the article makes clear and purposefully comments about the conditions, availability, and quality of education the black children in Summerhill were receiving. Claiming that, “at no way are the negroes at a disadvantage considered with the white children” and that “fewer negro children… are kept from school on account of being unable to buy books than there are white children deprived of an education.” While it would be incredible for this to be wholly true, it seems unlikely that in Jim Crow, post-Reconstruction Atlanta black and white grade schools were equal.7

Sandborn map from 1911, showing the summerhill neighborhood
map 513, 1911. Summerhill School (highlighted in pink) and a store at the current 484 house lot.

A few years earlier another article from the Atlanta Constitution recalls the story of an angered father and mother who, after threatening their daughter’s teacher wound up being arrested and faced with a large fine. As the story goes, the child was being disruptive and was being punished for it by a whipping with a cane (common practice in school houses of old) the child broke free of the teacher and ran home. The following the day the teacher finished the carnal punishment (to the amusement of her classmates) when her father heard the teacher yelling and assumed it was his child. Upon reaching the school the father, and eventually the mother too, chased to teacher into the principal’s office where she was hiding.8

Article from the Constitution, 1893.

By the 1910s the Summerhill school was already becoming overcrowded. The decision was soon made to demolish and build a much newer and larger school on the same lot. By 1923 the school foundation was set and the cornerstone ceremony was ready to get underway. An article from the same year details the dignitaries at the ceremony, many of whom were members of the local masonic temple.9 The newly built Edwin P. Johnson school would go on to serve the community in Summerhill for about 50 more years until it became over crowded itself and was later decommissioned. Sadly, the school stood there vacant and decaying for years until it was demolished in the 1980s. No later than 1999 the lot where the school once stood would become all residential.

Above, the E. P. Johnson school on the corner lot where the 484 house sits today. 1950, map 330.10

As is the case with all urban development things were going to change and have been changing in the neighborhood for years. However, an issue has arisen when looking back the Summerhill neighborhood at the arguably forced and accelerated development of this area because of the Olympics. In an article written by Seth Gustafson, he relates the issue of Olympic development as being the cause of increased gentrification and the issues that follow it (raised property value / taxes). He claims that, “rapid gentrification of the area surrounding the Stadium represented not only a major disruption for neighborhood residents, but also the removal of poor, predominantly minority residents from a highly trafficked and Olympic-related area.”11

This issues appears to be a repetitive theme for Summerhill and as Dr. Maurice Hobson explains it when Mayor Ivan Allen was pushing the development of Fulton County Stadium in the 1960s it was by way of displacing or disparaging poorer citizens in turn for new development. While the land the stadium was going to be built on was owned by the city at that point (having been condemned for “blight”) the surrounding areas were nevertheless going to be affected by the new stadium. According to Hobson the residents were becoming disgruntled because the “development of this area displaced 965 black families,” furthermore, it “forced ten thousand people into 354 acres.”12

Visiting our old homes, vacation spots, schools, or churches are pleasure pockets of nostalgia. We are able to visit these places and see how they have changed through the years but we aren’t as easily able to see what they looked like before our time. Before everybody carried a camera in their pocket photographs had to be more deliberate and were also more time consuming. Just 25 years ago it was most common to send your film to the Kodak guy to be developed than it was to upload it the internet. Without the painstaking work that archivists have done, as a community, it would be nearly impossible for us to ever find the pictures and maps that we look back on in wonder.

  1. https://www.google.com/maps/@33.7414978,-84.3840688,3a,75y,95.7h,83.62t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1ssG_t_rgkSumRHeOLZd-ANQ!2e0!5s20110801T000000!7i13312!8i6656?entry=ttu ↩︎
  2. https://www.loc.gov/resource/g3924am.g3924am_g01378191104/?sp=66&st=image#viewer-image-wrapper ↩︎
  3. “PASTOR IS BARRED IN CHURCH SCHISM: COURT ORDERS C. L. WILDER NET TO INTERFERE IN MINISTER SELECTION.” The Atlanta Constitution (1881-1945), Oct 31, 1935. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/pastor-is-barred-church-schism/docview/502278224/se-2. ↩︎
  4. Ibid. ↩︎
  5. “NEW ZION HILL BAPTIST TO OBSERVE CHARTER DAY.” Atlanta Daily World (1932-), Sep 05, 1980. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/new-zion-hill-baptist-observe-charter-day/docview/491551015/se-2. ↩︎
  6. Acheson. “THE SUMMERHILL SCHOOL THE OLDEST NEGRO SCHOOL.” The Atlanta Constitution (1881-1945), Mar 09, 1897. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/summerhill-school-oldest-negro/docview/495384904/se-2. ↩︎
  7. Ibid. ↩︎
  8. “A SCHOOL IN COURT.: AN OLD NEGRO RUNS A SCHOOLMISTRESS FROM SCHOOL. LIVELY TIMES AT SUMMERHILL SCHOOL THIRTY-ONE PUPILS BEFORE RECORDER CALHOUN TO TELL ABOUT THE BIG ROW. GOOD FINES.” The Atlanta Constitution (1881-1945), May 04, 1893. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/school-court/docview/193870254/se-2. ↩︎
  9. “TO LAY CORNERSTONE OF JOHNSON SCHOOL.” The Atlanta Constitution (1881-1945), Sep 21, 1923. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/lay-cornerstone-johnson-school/docview/499074785/se-2. ↩︎
  10. https://digitalsanbornmaps-proquest-com.eu1.proxy.openathens.net/browse_maps/11/1377/6156/6530/98518?accountid=11226 ↩︎
  11. GUSTAFSON, SETH. “Displacement and the Racial State in Olympic Atlanta: 1990–1996.” Southeastern Geographer 53, no. 2 (2013): 198–213. http://www.jstor.org/stable/26229061. ↩︎
  12. HOBSON, MAURICE J. “Building Black Atlanta and the Dialectics of the Black Mecca.” In The Legend of the Black Mecca: Politics and Class in the Making of Modern Atlanta, 12–49. University of North Carolina Press, 2017. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5149/9781469635361_hobson.5. ↩︎