Metro Pulse/Urban Renewal

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The Mary Boyce Temple House

623 W. Hill Avenue
3500 sq. ft. (with 1200 sq. ft. duplex)
$350,000

Contact:
Rick Gentry
First Knox Realty
546-6688

by Matt Edens

I picked up the "other" paper recently and read a fairly involved article about how downtown housing is suddenly the coolest new thing—attractive to an upscale population and key to downtown's vitality as a retail and entertainment center. Glad to see the Sentinel coming around (even if they did, predictably, waste an awful lot of word count pondering where all those people are gonna park).

But, honestly, downtown housing is nothing new. And I don't mean that in the "I liked them before they were hip" way that music snobs sneer at bands that are suddenly in the Top 40. Nope, while there has been a scattering of lofts in downtown Knoxville for going on a couple decades, downtown residential goes back considerably further than that.

A century ago, when downtown was the thriving economic hub of the entire East Tennessee region, more than half of what we think of as the central business district was nothing of the sort. And as late as the 1920s most of downtown Knoxville—other than a long, narrow corridor between State and Market streets—was still residential. In fact, until the Andrew Johnson Hotel was built at the end of the decade, there were still private houses on Gay Street. Of the couple hundred freestanding houses that once crowded downtown, only six remain (a seventh, the Knaffl House, was moved to Speedway Circle). They are the Blount Mansion and the Craighead-Jackson House, the Park House, Masonic Lodge (the extensively remodeled home of Charles McClung McGhee), Lord Lindsey (built in 1901 as a private residence), and this place at 623 Hill Avenue.

Built in 1907 by Charles McNabb, it's the newest of the lot. And it was still an upscale address in the 1920s when Mary Boyce Temple moved in. A founding member of the Bonny Kate chapter of the DAR and first president of the Ossoli Circle women's group, Temple was a society Grande Dame straight out of Edith Wharton—her annual parties were the height of the social season, and she was practically a goodwill ambassador, representing the state at occasions like the opening of the Panama Canal and the Paris Exposition.

She was also, as best I can figure, Knoxville's original historic preservationist. In 1925 she put down the earnest money to buy the Blount Mansion from the developer who wanted to tear it down for a parking lot. And her efforts helped raise the rest of the $35,000 dollars that saved downtown's oldest house from the wrecking ball—a hell of a lot of money for a rundown house in 1925.

Which brings me to 78 years later. Now the house up for sale is the one Mary Boyce Temple was living in when she wrote that check (it still exists, in a frame down at the Blount Mansion). And while nobody's said anything about tearing it down (except TDOT, which pretty much wants to tear down everything...), I am a little worried.

You see, while the place is structurally sound (other than the front porch, which could use a little help), it is something of a mess. Plumbing, wiring, HVAC, kitchens and baths—all are in the "rip it out and start over" category. And while there's still a massive amount of the original interior remaining—a grand staircase, two impressive fireplace mantles, leaded glass windows, embossed anaglypta wallpaper, two sets of huge pocket doors and oak floors throughout the first two floors—all of it requires stripping and refinishing.

The finished product would certainly be impressive; a downtown showpiece that would make handsome offices or a charming B&B. But it wouldn't come cheap, considering the current asking price of $350,000—which, I remind you, is before you've even spent a dime on the renovations. Granted, you do get a second building at that price, a WWII-era cinder-block duplex that, quite honestly, I wouldn't miss if it were sacrificed to the gods of parking.

But this house I would miss. And I suspect that, at $350K, it may be headed the same way. Which would be a damned shame. This town doesn't need another gravel parking lot. It could, however, stand a few more little old ladies with checkbooks...