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Montgomery’s Memory-Ha|inted Exchange Hotel j
Succumbs to Modern Prog'ress ^ ^ |
By PAUL UNGpLty.
Written for “Ghm Sunny South
AST “moving day” in the •
historic little city of
Montgomery, Ala., wit
nessed the destruction of
the old Exchange hotel,
the building which has
seen more of the state’s
public and social. ~~ ITttr~~
than any other wnniii its
borders, and ‘ the most
historic place of public
entertainment in the
south.
The first day of October
is known in Montgomery a a “moving
day.” On that day take place practically
all the changes, whether of business or
residence, occurring in the twelve month.
One not pleased with his location will
be careful to secure a claim on another
before the end of September, for in t «e
general unsettling and settling again of
“moving day,” the changing of homes
and offices, and the abandonment and
demolition of old buildings and beginning
of new ones, there will be little or noth
ing left.
Last moving day, October I, 1904, was
memorable in that it marked the sacri
fice before the Insatiate demand for the
“modern and, up to date” of one more
of the land marks of our history. The
south, which has shown itself singularly
wanting in the • sentiment so long ac
credited to it, might. * it would seem,
have cared to preserve tills particular
one. notable as no other, unless. Indeed,
it be the Alabama state capitol. But
no.' The Exchange could not be made
fireproof, it could be remodelled, and im
proved to a degree of present accepta
bility; but Montgomery needed a hos
telry equal with that of other cities and
suited to har growing demands, one
that could be offered the exacting pub
lic for years. The Exchange site was
the best possible, the old hotel was in
adequate. could not be made fireproof;
so rather than put money into it, better
to raze the old structure and erect cMhe,
steel frame and fireproof, ami new from
the foundations up.
-•
So they went to work to tear down the
old house, and something of a job It
proved, too. Fifty and seventy-live years
ago they did not build for a day, it was
honest labor * that brought honest re
sults, durability and a soundness which
it remains to ■ be seen was inferior to
our more modern arid vaunted methods.
When the work began of pulling down
the walls, they refused to come down.
From three to four feet thick in places
they were as hand as adamant, and
the labor necessary to their demolition
was both difficult and tedious. The
bricks that went into them were hand
made, a brick' making machlnfe bought
' for the contract having been thrown
away a* a farfure—arid time had only
served to solidify and strengthen, them.
So perfect are, they still, a part are be- '
ing used in the new Exchange now go
ing up. and the whole building' was In
such thorough preservation it ,might
have stood tpr an indefinite time.
The great columns, six feet in, dia- '
meter, which gave to the old structure
its classic and magnificent appearance,
were only prevented from being' used
by reason of their height—the ,n,ew ho
tel will be eight stories, where the old
was but four.
The old Exchange and the Alabama
capltol were so closely linked together
the two must be inseparably associated
in history. When in IS45 the legislat
ure ratified the removal of the capltol
from Tuskaloosa, Montgomery outbid
ding other competitors, agreed to erect
a 375,000 capltol, and to transfer Lie.
effects of the state hither—which it did;
In thirteen wagons, and 113 boxes, .at
a cost, to itself of 31,325, having all
in readiness for' the session of 1847,
which convened in-' December. A Tew
month* later the contract for the
chapge .. hotel, -was, give* -.to- _tb» --»
firm that had builded the capltol.
At this time Montgomery was a c
try town, the center of a cotton ivnd
agricultural district, and withofa roi.-
road connection with the world, its com
munication being by the river and by
stage coach, and with a white popula
tion of less than six thousand. Yet the
same prophetic vision which led An
drew Dexter when he offered his free
lots in 1817, to set aside the crest of
Goat Hill (since Capitol Hill) for the site
of the state capltol he believed would
some day rest there, the same faith in
the future of the place, lived in the
breasts of three of. its citizens thirty
years later, and led to. the building of
a hotel, seemingly out of all proportion '
.to the patronage it could reasonably ex
pect.- These three prominent citizens,
Charles T. Pollard, Francis M. Gilmer,
and 'William Holt, erected at a cost of
between 350.000 and 3100,000. a hotel of
one hundred rooms, a really splendid
building and, as it ■ turned out, a fine
investment.
‘ HOTEL IS CAPITOL.
About eighteen months afterward, and
just two. years after the Installation of
the legislature into its handsome new
quarters, ‘while that body was In session,
the majority of its members being domi
ciled in the Exchange, fire broke out In
the capltol, and though it was 1 o’clock
mm
In the day, when under favorable condi
tions the flames might have been con
trolled, the efforts of the citizens were
unavailing and the building was burned
to the ground. Thereafter, until it was
rebuilt, the legislature sat in the Ex
change hotel.
Besides being the home, during the ses
sion. of the members, it was also that of
the governor. With the exception of
Governor Jones, who owned a place here,
every governor of Alabama since Mont
gomery was made the capital has had
his residence in the Exchange. And dur
ing the sixty years of its hospitable exist
ence aii the distinguished men and wom
en who visited the state were guests
there; the representative wit and culture
of the land found gracious entertainment;
thither repaired the Dest and_ finest of
the south's statesmanship and most ar
dent patrotism; and within its walls were
enacted some of the most stirring events
which illuminate the pages of history.
Among the noted men to whom the old
place extended its hospitality prior to
the sixties was James K. Polk, who came
the year the capitol was burned; Louis
Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, In 1852;
and Millard Fillmfire, In 1854. Mr. Fill
more was accompanied by John P. Ken
nedy. who had been secretary of the navy
during his administration, better known
as- the author of that thrilling old ro
mance “Horse Shoe Robinson.’’ The ac-
■our»r ?" the enthusiastic receptions given
the (wo resemble that accorded LaFayette
twehtjj-seven years earlier. Arriving on
the steamer “Magnolia,” they were met
by a large concourse of citizens, which
lined the river bank, thp two military
companies being drawn up in line and
firing salutes, and being driven to the
capitol in a coach and four, accompanied
by the welcoming throng, the guests and
escort, alighted at the foot of the terrace
and advanced to the entrance through two
lines of little girls, dressed in white,
who literally strewed the path with flow
ers. After the exercises they then re
paired to the Exchange hotel, where the
visitors were treated to southern hospi
tality at its best, Alabama hospitality
and at tfs famous Exchange.
It was in this year that the Laniers
took the hotel. Sterling Lanier, grand
father of Sydney Lanier, the poet, and of
Clifford Lariler, also man of letters, had
come some time before from New York,
where the Hotel LeFarge, of which he
was proprietor, had burned, and ■faken
charge of Montgomery hall, the first hos
telry of any pretensions which • the town
had. Under the management of this far-
famed host, which covered that exciting
period culminating in the secession of the
southern states and the four months
when Montgomery was the capital of
the confederacy, the Exchange achieved
CONTINUED ON THIRD PAGE.
HEW EXCHANGE HOTEL BUILDING
HOnTCOMEKT, ALABAMA.
WILLIS r. DKMHY.
Architect.
Atlanta, Georgia.
j &/?eHero of Pago Bridge
A Series of Humorous Stories by Gelett Burgess and Will Irwin
Y name is Admen Drake.
Mine ain’t a story book
yarn like yours, pardner,
or a tale of spooks ar.d
phantoms. like yours.
You can get away from
gliosts when there's other
people around or it's day.
light, but there’s some
things that you can’t
get away from in a thous
and years, daylight or
dark.
A fellow that I knew
from the P. L. outfit loaned me a story
book once by "The Duchess,” that said
something like this, only in a story book
language:
”A woman is the start and finish of
ail our troublts.’’
I always remembered Unit. It was a
right nice idea. Many and many's the
time that, thinking over my troubles.
I’ve remembered those sentiments. Su
sie Latham, that is the finest lady in
the White river country, she was the
start and finish of my troubles.
Ever since we were both old enough
to chew hay Susie and I traveled as a
team. The first time that I ever shone
in society I did it with Susie bv my
• side. It was right good of her to go
with me, seeing that l wa s only bound-
boy to old man Mullins, who brought
me up and educated me. and Susie's
father kept a store. But then we were
too little to care about such things, me
being 11 r.nd Susie 9. It was the mum
social of the First Baptist church that
I took her to. You know the sort? When
the boss Sunday school man gives the
signal you clap the stopper on your jaw
tackle and get fined a cent a word If
you peep. Susie knew well enough that
I had only 5 cents left after I got in,
so what does She do but go out and sit
on the porch while the talk is turned
off, so that she wouldn’t put me in the
hole. When they passed the grabbag I
blew in the nickel. I got a kid brass
ring with a red glass front and gave It
to her. Isald that It was for us to get
married when we crew up.
••Wily. Admeh Drake, I like your gall. *
she said, but she took it just the same.
After that Susie was my best girl and
I was her beau. I licked every fellow
that said she wasn’t pretty, and she
stuck out 'her tongue to every girl that
tried to Joke me because I was old Mul
lins’ bound-boy. We graduated from
striped Rock Union High School to
gether. That was where I spent the hap
py hour s running wild among the flowers
in my boyhood’s happy home down on
the farm. After that she went to teach
ing school, and I struck first principles
and punched cattle down on old Mul
lins’ X Q X ranch. Says I to myself. I'll
have an interest here myself some
time. and then married HI be to Susie
if she’ll but name the day. I had only .
six months before I was to be out of
bound to old Mullins.
Being a darn fool kid, I let it go at
that, and wrote to her once in a while
and got busy learning to punch cattle.
Lord love you, I didn't have much to
learn, oecause 1 wras raised in the sad
dle. ’mere were none of them better
than me If I did have >a high school
education. My eyes had gone bad along
back while I was in the high school,
calling for spectacles. When I first
rode in giglamps, they used to josh me,
but when 1 got good with the rope and
" shot offhand with the best and took first
prize for busting bronchos Fourth of
July at Range City, they called me the
"Four-eyed Cowpuncher,” and I was
real proud of it. I wish it was all the
nickname I ever had. "The Hero of
Pago Bridge”—I wish to God—
The X Q X is seventy miles down the
river from Srtiped Rock. Seventy miles
ain’t such a distance in Colorado, only
I never went back for pretty near two
years and a half. Then, one Christmas
when we were riding fences—keeping the
line up against the snow, and running
the cattle back if they broke the wires
and got across—I got to thinking of the
holiday dances at Striped Hock, and
says I: "Here’s for a Christmas as
neaT home as 1 can get, and a sight of
Susie.”
The boss let me off, and I made it in
on Christmas Eve. The dance was going
on down at Forresters Hail. I fixed up
and took it in.
And theje she was—I didn't know her
foT the start she'd got. Her hair—that
she used t» wear in two molassey-colored
braids hanging down her back and
shining in tne sen tfie way candy emnes
when you pull it—was done up all over
her head. She was all pinky and whltey
ln the face the way sue used to Be wner
she was a little girl. She had on a sort
of pink dress, mighty pretty, with green
wa3sets down me iront and a green
dingbat arooind the bottom, and long
—not the way it was when I saw ner De-
foTe. She was rushed to the corner with
every geezer in the place piled in front
of her . I broke into the bunch. Every
body seemeH to see me except Susie. She
treated me like any other maverick in
the heTd. She hadn’t even a dance left
for me. Once, in “Old Dan Tucker,
she called me out, but she’d called out
every other tarantula in tne wmte river
country, so there was no hope in tbat.
If ever a man didn’t know where he was
at, I was tna candidate.
All that winter, riding the fence, I
thought an dthought. I’d been so dead
sure of her that I was letting her go.
Here was the principal of the high school
and youing Mullins that worked In the
Rancher's Bank, and Biles tnat owned
stock in the p L, all after her, like
broncos alter a marked steer, and 1 was
only me "Four-eyed cowpuncher,” 330
and feund. And I got bluer than the
says
hee s
myself, if she ain't married whet{ spring
melts, by me Lora, i'll nave ner.
i’m one of those that ain’t forgetting
the 16th of February, 1898. Storm over,
and me mighty glad of it. Snow all
around, except where the line of fence-
rails peeked through, and the sun just
blinding. I on the bronco breaking
♦
i
m
4
•
*
orado national guard was accepted, en
listing as a body. When we were in
camp together and the medical inspector
went around thumping chests, the cap
tain gave him a little song about my
eyes. “He can’t see without his glasses.”
says Captain Fletcher, “but he can
shoot all right with them on. And he
raised my extra men, and he’s a sol
dier.”
The doctor says: "Well, I’m getting
forgetful in my age, and maybe I’ll forget
the eye test.” Which he did as he
said.
After that was Dewey and Manila Bay,
ana the news that the Colorado volun
teers were going to be sent to the Philip
pines, which everybody had studied about
in the'geography, but nobdy rememberer,
except that they were full of Spaniards
Just dying to be lambasted.
We got going at last, muster at Den
ver. and they gave us a Sunday Off to
see our folks. You better believe I took
an early train for Striped Rock—and
Susie. A nundred and five miles It was,
and the trains running so that I had Just
two hours and twenty-five minutes in the
place.
Susie wasn’t at home, nor any of the
Lathams. They were all in church at
ihe Baptist meeting house, where I gave
ner the gTab-bag ring for kid fun. I
went over there and peeked in the door.
A new sky-pilot was in the pulpit, just
turned loose on his remarks. Sizing him
up, I saw that he was a stem-winding,
quarter-hour striking, eight-day talker
that would swell up and bust if he
CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.
through the crust, feeling mighty good
both of us. Down in a little arroyo,
where a creek ran in summer, was the
end of my run. Away off in the snow
I saw Billy Taylor, my side-partner,
waving his hand like he was excited. I
pounded my mule on the back.
“The Maine’s blown up,” he yells. “The
Maine’s blown up!”
"The what?” says I, not understanding.
“The Maine—Havana harbor—war
sure!” he says. I tumbled off in the
snow while he chucked me down a bun
dle of Denver papers. There it was. I
went as loco as Billy. Before I got
back to camp I had it all figured out—
what I ought to do. I got to the fore
man before noon and drew my pay and
left him cursing. Lickety-split, the cay-
use—he was mine—got me to the station.
I figured that the national guard would
be the first to go, and I figured right.
So I telegraphed to old Captain Fletcher
of Company N, at Range City; "Have
you got room for me?” And he answer
ed moi knowing jusfhow I stood on the
ranches: ‘Tee. Can you raise me
twenty men to fill my company?” He
didn’t need to ask for men; there were
plenty of them anxious enough to go.
but he did need the sort od man I’d get
him. Snow be darned. I rode for four
days ’ signing up twenty heliaroos that
would leave the Rough Riders standing.
Into Range City I hustled them. There .
we waited on the town, doing nothing
but live on our back pay and drill while
we waited, nineteen for glory and Spanish
Olood, and me for glory and the girl.
Congress got a move on at last, though
we thought it never would, and the Col-