The seventh column in his series “The Colorful Eighties in Nashville” starts off with a disquisition on the competitive military drilling craze of the 1870s and 1880s. It illustrates a sentiment among men too young to have fought in the Late Unpleasantness that roughly parallels recent popular reverence for the “Greatest Generation” of WWII vets — but in all honesty, it’s way more info than most readers will care to take in on the subject.
Don’t give up on the old man, though. Skip to the bottom of page three and check out what he has to say about the 1889 inauguration of the city reservoir that still provides our water from a hill above 8th Ave. South.
1 Nov. 1930: “Military Spirit and May Drills — Porter Rifles and Other Crack Companies — New Waterworks and Bursting Pipes — Hermitage Club Organized”
The pressure from the new reservoir was much greater than that from the old. There was one startling result. The old water pipes had not been constructed to stand this additional pressure, and besides, many were rusty and dilapidated. When the water was turned into them from the new reservoir many of them burst — not all at one time, but from day to day. Geysers spouted at various points over the city. One was especially notable. The main on Seventh Avenue in front of the First Christian Church burst, and the water spouted fifty or sixty feet high, carrying with it rocks, dirt and other wreckage. The church and an adjoining residence were badly damaged. Holes were knocked in the roofs by the falling stones, and the interior of the buildings drenched with water, destroying plastering and furnishings. It was said that a live catfish eighteen inches long was thrown out upon the street. This fish was supposed to have got into the main when a baby.
For a 2007 column dealing with this episode and others in the surprisingly lively history of Nashville’s public plumbing, I spoke with Ron Taylor, resident historian at Metro Water Services. I had to ask his opinion of Marmaduke’s fish story. Ron allowed as how a fish truly might have found its way into the then-uncovered reservoir. But an 18-incher in the water mains? “A bit implausible,” he opined.
Here’s an entertaining little discovery I made over the weekend: a 1907 Nashville society directory that Google has made available through its book-digitization initiative. If you’re familiar with “old Nashville,” you will see a lot of familiar surnames in there.
This pair of ads in the directory particularly jumped out at me:
Lockeland Springs, now an East Nashville neighborhood, had just been incorporated into Nashville’s city limits in 1905, according to this writeup at the neighborhood association’s blog. In Nashville: Yesterday & Today (published earlier this year), my wife Nicki Pendleton Wood described the waters that gave the area its name:
The springs on the Lockeland property were full of dissolved lithium salts. Mineral waters were the wellness fad of the day, and when businessman James Richardson bought the old Lockeland mansion and eight of its acres in 1900, the estate became a business as well as a home. He bottled the lithium water and sold it as a remedy for bladder, kidney, stomach, dyspepsia and rheumatic afflictions, growing very rich as a result.
Stief Jewelry was a well-known presence locally for generations. I asked my friend David A. Fox (co-founder of NashvillePost.com and former chair of the Metro Nashville Board of Education) to provide the lowdown on his family’s involvement with the business:
B.H. Stief was a repairman of fine watches and retailer of jewelry who started his company in the late 1800s. My great-grandfather, George Fox in Cincinnati, was a supplier of diamonds to his store. When Stief fell far behind on his bills, George Fox bought out the company in 1916 or 1917 and sent his son, Gilbert Fox, to run the company. Since Gilbert didn’t know anything about the business, George took in James Cayce as a partner to run it. It was located then on Union Street, but later moved to the corner of Capitol Boulevard and Church, and then to 6th Avenue. (Mr. Cayce was very involved in city life, served on the State Fair Board, and is the namesake of the James Cayce Homes.) Mr. Cayce died in 1940. Gilbert Fox died in 1942. The wives of the two men briefly ran the company, but Natelle Fox sold her interest to Mrs. Cayce a few years later. In the 1960s, E. Jaccard Jewelry Co. of St. Louis bought the company, renamed it Stief-Jaccard’s and relocated to 100 Oaks. It ceased operating some years later.