Down Under Downtown
by Devin Greaney

From MEMPHIS DOWNTOWNER, February, 2007

TOC: Next time you take a stroll around Downtown Memphis, give pause to the many historic treasures that lay buried beneath your feet.

The last casualties of the Civil War could have taken place in Memphis — almost 130 years after Lee surrendered at Appomattox. Archaeologist specialists Weaver and Associates LLC were excavating a well in late 1993 at the site of today's AutoZone headquarters near Front and Peabody Place when they uncovered a surprise.

“One of the things we found as we were merrily digging along was an unexploded Civil War cannonball with the fuse still attached and still full of black powder,” Weaver recalls. “It was quite a production to gently pick it up while it was still live!“

They contacted the police, who saw this 64-pound piece of artillery as a bomb — which it was — and wanted to blow it up. The archaeologists saw it as history — which it also was — and wanted to preserve it. The historians won out. “We gave it to a conservator," says Weaver. "Black powder is notoriously unstable. The conservator put it in a bucket of water and removed the fuse."

Just think of it: This bomb survived the end of the war, generations of Memphians coming into this world and leaving, and construction of a section of the old Goldsmith’s Department Store. You might have walked over it on your way to see Santa at the Enchanted Forest. It was like a traveler from a strange world because ... ? Because it was underground — that strange unworldly place where time ceases because no one notices.

But back to the archaeologists. As principal and senior archaeologist of Weaver and Associates, Guy Weaver has a history buff’s dream job. He, his wife, Louella, and members of his firm dig through historic sites — and potential sites — to catalog pieces of the past, usually discarded as garbage. "Since the 1970s, laws required archeology to be used on any federally funded or federally licensed project," he explains, "which gave rise to the field of cultural resource management.”

In the early 1980s, a study was done in a well in the basement of the Falls Building at 22 N. Front. “University of Memphis graduate students and volunteers with very little money began excavating this well," says Weaver. "It went down 40 feet, and we found evidence of what we believe was an old tavern. That was really our first exposure to these buried archeological resources that we now know are all over Downtown."

Bottles from Sall's Brewery found at the FedEx Forum date from the 1860's and 1870's
Weaver has explored underneath Downtown at the riverbank cobblestones and, most recently, at the FedExForum. At the Magevney House — one of Memphis's oldest remaining residences — they discovered several conch shells in the well. At the Hampton Inn site at Beale and Peabody Place, they found remains of an ice house, a flour mill, and a bordello that were destroyed in a fire around 1880.

Wells are a wealth of artifacts. The city's first drinking water came from the river and the Gayoso Bayou, but then residents began digging wells. “They were the major source of water up until the 1870s," says Weaver. "During the last great yellow fever epidemic in 1878–79, most of the people who didn’t get out of the city died. When people started coming back to the city, there were all these deserted houses filled with belongings. People believed that the cause of yellow fever was 'bad airs.' They didn’t know it was caused from mosquitoes. One of the recommendations was to fill up these wells.” Vacant houses full of belongings and wells in need of filling reflect the massive post–yellow fever cleanup efforts.

At Weaver's offices, yesterday's trash provides a look at times long past. At the FedExForum site, they recovered bottles from Salls and Company, a Memphis brewer from 1867 to 1872. They look like something from a South Main arts bazaar as Weaver lifts them, the bluegray ceramic capturing lights of different colors. By contrast, the plastic 20-ounce Dr Pepper bottle I just finished looks primitive.

Beneath Downtown is not only an interesting place because of what is unearthed, but also because of the basements that await just a staircase or an elevator ride away. The new strip mall in Bartlett or subdivision in Collierville won't have basements for future exploration, but Downtown, basements are fairly standard.

The Burkle Estate at 826 N. Second has a cellar and a story. The story goes that German immigrant Jacob Burkle helped slaves escape to the North. At the back of the house was an opening to a crawl space — more accurately, a creep space — under the floor, where it is believed slaves hid below the floorboards and crawled through an 18-inch hole to the cellar.

Another early Memphis family is still part of Downtown Memphis. After 131 years, A. Schwab's — the oldest family-owned general store in the Mid-South — seems to have resisted change from its days as the town’s general store. But fourth-generation Elliot Schwab shows that time really stops in the basement.

Elliot Schwab shows off some of the collection
“This is the old side,” he says, pointing to the dirt floor on the west half. “It was built after 1812 but before 1850. Something unique about the building when it was built is that they still had the idea of earthquakes. It was constructed to withstand such an event. Not a bad idea considering how close we are to the New Madrid fault!"

Down in the basement is a treasure chest of old stuff, mostly reminiscent of daily life from times past. There is a cracked sign from the old State Cafe, an old hay crane. “Hay cranes were neat," says Schwab. "You could unload a whole wagon load in one grab."

A pile of coal from 60-plus years ago sits down there. “We used potbellied stoves up until the early '40s," Schwab explains. "Then we started getting gas heat." He moves towards a baptismal font. “It’s amazing how much stuff we get because a person had something and they don’t want to throw it away. That’s fine with us!

“We wanted a wagon," he continues. "I don’t know why. We came across one sitting in a field one day and talked to the owner. He said to go ahead and take it, and they gave it to me to put together. It wasn’t hard, except I didn’t know what I was doing and I put it together backwards!"

Pictures from an abandoned photo studio, an old dentist chair, a 1987 poster from Wonders' <<Ramesses the Great>> exhibit — the newest item — what is his favorite? “I can’t say there is any one favorite," he says. "How can you pick your favorite child?”

Joey Hagan, cofounder of Architecture Inc., says basements were essential until the 1930s, when inexpensive TVA gas and electrical heating came to Memphis. "Coal came to the home and businesses, so basements were standard," he says. “That’s where all your utilities were located. They also stored dry goods because basements tended to maintain a constant temperature." Another plus in the days before air conditioning.

Jimmy Ogle, vice president of operations for The Ericson Group, discovered a fascination right under everyone’s feet — portals into the underground world. In the summer of 1997, he began photographing manhole covers, categorizing the photos and documenting the addresses. Few notice these manhole covers — unless, of course, one is missing — but Ogle finds them fascinating. “So far, I've come up with 195 different kinds of manhole covers just in Downtown Memphis,” he says. “It’s ornamental art, and there is a real art to it.”

He shows one with a spider web design that resembles a hypnosis coin you could buy from comic books. He also shows the relief of a steamboat on manhole covers from the early 1990s on Main Street. “Someone spent a lot of time making these covers,” he says. "They are also history."

Some of the old manhole covers show names of defunct companies, such as Cumberland Telephone and Telegraph, and Memphis Power and Light. Another cover has been polished almost smooth from decades of literally millions of tires. Could Model T's have driven over this piece of Memphis? And why is there a Con Ed cover — the power company for New York — on a Memphis Street?

The ones that saying BellSouth cover the workplace of J.T. Elmer and Jay Erwin. It is a warm day, and they are checking cables beneath Channel 3 Drive. The crew backs a truck up to the hole, lowers a tube in to circulate the air, then follows a ladder to about eight feet below. It’s a tight space connected by tunnels just a few inches wide for the cables to pass.

“It’s not like what you see on TV with people walking around,” Elmer says. Also, there are no snakes. “There is nothing for them to eat down there. There are mostly roaches, crickets, and filth. Downtown phone cables were laid in 1912 and 1913 are still carrying calls today — and they work just fine!"

There is not an underground network of tunnels to transport cotton, like some rumors have stated, but a few tunnels do exist. From a parking garage at Front Street and Jefferson to the Renaissance Apartments at 99 N. Main, a tunnel runs under Front Street to what used to be Lowenstein's department store. It seems not to have been used much since the store closed in 1981. The old police building next to today's Fire Museum had a tunnel going to the court house. The city engineer’s office says a tunnel goes from the Marriott Hotel to the Convention Center underneath Main Street.

On a cold December day in 1986, a burial took place at Court Square, but no tears were shed. Celebrating Tennessee Homecoming and the remodeling of Court Square, a time capsule was placed under a monument, according to architect March Hall, whose firm, MMH Hall, Architects/Planners Inc., designed the complete renovation of the park — which included the first use of Memphis park benches designed and fabricated by Jim Wallace, director of the National Ornamental Metal Museum.

March and Mckrell Hall at the aproximate site where the time

capsule was buried in 1986. Mckrell was an 8-year-old Brownie

at the time.
The plan was that in 50 years — December 11, 2036 — the capsule would be excavated, recalling the days of giant cell phones, Max Headroom, and lots of hairspray.

But today, no sign of the marker is visible. It was removed along with the time capsule, Memphis benches, and a number of monuments deemed "not of historic significance," and they now sit in a General Services warehouse. Hall remains hopeful that the capsule will be reburied in its "appropriate place" at Court Square.

Below Downtown is still a busy place, but some things, of course, will stay covered up. A ditch goes underground at Vance and flows north, becoming visible around Auction. This is the old Gayoso Bayou, an early source of water and the one-time boundary of early Memphis.

Hagan remembers a construction worker remodeling Pancho's on South Second. “He was jackhammering, and the jackhammer fell out of his hands. About five seconds later, he heard it hit. We assume its an old cistern,” he says.

Weaver says that moving a cemetery in the 1800s was “more of a ceremonial thing” that involved a prayer and removal of some dirt, but not the bodies. Such may have been the case with the old Morris Cemetery at G.E. Patterson and South Main. So six feet below the shoppers in that area of South Main may lie the remains of Victorian-era Memphians.

Below Downtown today, you can park your car, get a haircut, attend court, swim, or bowl. But as archeologists and basements show, perhaps the most interesting thing is how time typically stops for the world underground. At the Bon Ton Cafe on Monroe and Cayenne Moon on South Front, for instance, there are attractive basements for food, drinks, and visiting. You can see time has stopped while sitting down there. Is it rainy or sunny outside? Day, or night? How could you know? Come to think of it, why would you care?

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