It took a dummy and a minister named Isaac.
by Jesse Fox Mayshark
One hundred and five years ago, North Knoxville was more than just a vaguely defined area—it was an incorporated city. As the first ring of "trolleyburbs" sprang up in the late 19th century, many middle- and upper-class Knoxville families moved out of the unruly industrial downtown to surrounding neighborhoods that were cleaner and safer and easily reached by streetcar. There was East Knoxville, West Knoxville (now known as Fort Sanders) and Lonsdale. And there was North Knoxville. The municipality was established in 1889, taking in the area directly north of downtown on either side of Broadway. Most of the grand Victorian houses that distinguish the current Fourth and Gill and Old North neighborhoods were built between 1880 and 1910, and they attest to the status of the families who lived there.
"Most people don't even know that north was ever a fashionable place to live, but it was" says Steve Cotham, manager of the McClung Collection at the East Tennessee Historical Center. Sadly, he says, many of the grandest homes of that era made way for the encroachment of the expanding industrial areas north of the railroad tracks and the construction of the interstate. Maybe the most impressive one still standing is the Dunn mansion at the dead-end of Armstrong Street. The house, visible from blocks away, presides majestically over its wide avenue. (Until recently, it was a cause for despair among local residents and preservationists—chopped into 10 apartments and dilapidated both inside and out, it seemed in danger of literally sliding down the wooded hill behind it into the Broadway Shopping Plaza below. But it is now being completely refurbished by new owners, who moved here from the historic preserve of Savannah, Ga.)
The city of North Knoxville, which had its own city hall, school and utility district, lasted less than a decade. Then as now, Knoxville leaders saw annexation as the most natural path to a thriving metropolis (at the turn of the 20th century, chamber of commerce types were billing Knoxville as "the next Atlanta"), and in 1897 the larger city absorbed the burgeoning neighborhoods to its north.
For the next several decades, the driving force for growth in North Knoxville was, literally, an engine—the steam furnace that powered the locomotive train of the "Dummy Line." It made daily round trips from Emory Park (now known as Emory Place), at the northern end of Gay Street, all the way to the resort and picnic areas of Fountain City. "Dummy" referred to steam engines that could run both backward and forward without turning around.
Fountain City was already well established by the end of the 19th century, but most of what lay between downtown and Sharp's Ridge was country farmland. Inevitably, some of the city dwellers taking the train were attracted by the passing scenery, and houses slowly started springing up along the rail route. Lincoln Park was originally just a small train station, but it and other depots along the way became the centers of growing neighborhoods.
One of the most significant developments came with the subdivision of the old Emory farm, near the Arlington train station. According to Ann Bennett of the Metropolitan Planning Commission, the Rev. Isaac Emory bought 42 acres of land in 1882. In 1890, he deeded a right of way to the city for the construction of the Dummy Line; he also donated the land nearer to downtown that became Emory Park. Emory, a missionary who helped found hundreds of Sunday schools in East Tennessee, was a prominent Knoxville citizen—he was also a passenger on the ill-fated 1904 rail trip that resulted in the horrific New Market train wreck. It killed almost 70 people, including Emory; he is buried in Old Gray cemetery, just across Broadway from the current Emory Place.
His son, Charles, picked up the farming business and operated a truck farm on the family land until the 1920s. In 1917, a massive annexation brought all of North Knoxville up to Sharp's Ridge into the city limits. Shortly thereafter, Charles Emory decided to switch from farming to real estate. The Emory farm was carved up into individual lots, many of which were bought by speculators and sold to city dwellers seeking to move even farther out of the noise, grime and crime. Current North Knoxvillians may look askance at suburban sprawl, but their own neighborhoods are among the city's earliest examples of it. Centered around a broad boulevard divided by a tree-lined island, Emory's subdivision was named for the family that had owned it for more than 40 years: Emoriland.
By that time, streetcars had long since replaced the Dummy Line, but the neighborhoods that sprang up around the rail lines still reflected an age of mass transit—they are lined with sidewalks, and many of the houses did not have driveways. That changed over the next decade, however; by the 1930s, new subdivisions were constructed almost entirely for automobiles. This is most visible in the winding roads and private driveways of North Hills. The neo-classical homes, divided avenues and serpentine streets, along with the spectacular views of the Smoky Mountains, gave it an air of sophistication and exclusivity.
By the end of World War II, residential North Knoxville as it exists today was almost entirely built. And as new development pushed outward in other directions, further north and especially west, some Knoxvillians began pronouncing the older neighborhoods close to the city dying or dead. They were, of course, wrong.
April 18, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 16
© 2002 Metro Pulse
| 
