“What has happened to Decatur?”

by Jim Philips

(originally published as “Centennial for the Decatur Schools” in Community Review, 2001)

“What has happened to Decatur? It looks great!” This was the question most asked by our out of town classmates at the recent Decatur High Class of ‘65 35th Reunion. As always, it is great to see our old classmates, tell each other that we look wonderful and that we haven’t changed a bit. We have been the Baby Boomers, the Me Generation, the Sandwich Generation, and now, someone said that we have become the Pre-Geezers. Of course, our focus and interests have changed over the years, and conversations have been dominated by the different and evolving stages of life, i.e. marriage, divorce, kids, grandkids, midlife crisis, health. But at the same time, in almost every case, our core personalities and values, formed in Decatur, have stayed remarkably consistent.
 
But what has happened to Decatur? One classmate said that we looked like Cambridge, Massachusetts. While that is somewhat of a stretch, we have never looked better or seemed more prosperous. Some of us never really left, like Mr. Big, Shorty and me, and so the change for us has been gradual. One of our classmates had not been back in over 20 years, and for him the changes were striking. The Belk Gallant notions department is now Eddy’s Attic, the Clairemont Hotel location is now occupied by Decatur Towncenter, and the old Five and Dime is Mick’s, just to mention three of many transformations.
 
What has happened to Decatur? I like former City Commissioner Lynn Deardorf’s answer, “We are a 25 year overnight sensation.” This short answer incorporates a truckload of irony and reflects all the tremendous work done by various cohorts over a long span of time. At a macro level, a high percentage of the right decisions happened in the community over and over again. Over these 25 years, we were well governed; we had a strong sense of community, and planned with a consensual approach. But at the same time, our town hasn’t changed all that much. In our old yearbook, the Indecatur, we described Decatur in 1965 in the following way:
 

Our city, our town-as lovely as the night, as shining as the sun. The many scenes we live with day by day are so much a part of us . . . the many churches, almost one in every block . . . the Courthouse, the center of our town…the monuments to our past . . .

 
While we were and still are somewhat insular, we knew that we were irrevocably connected to the dynamic Atlanta region, having just reached a population of 1 million in 1960. Growing up, before we were driving, all the entertainment and excitement of downtown Atlanta was accessible by the Number 2 Ponce de Leon bus. The Fox, the Rialto, The Varsity, Rich’s, Gene and Gabes, and the old Municipal Auditorium were available for bus fare of 10 cents. And so in the yearbook, Thomas Wolfe was quoted:
 

. . . He heard, far off, the deep and bee-like murmur of its million-footed life, and all the mystery of the earth and time was in that sound. He saw its thousand streets, peopled with a flashing, beautiful, infinitely varied life. The city flashed before him like a glorious jewel, blazing with countless rich and brilliant facets . . .

 
Several out of town classmates scheduled a tour through the old Winnona and College Heights neighborhoods, and of course, were amazed at the transition, the vibrancy, and how their old homes looked. One of our classmates, an old friend, skipped the reunion, and so the group stopped by to see him. One of my classmates emailed me the following report:
 
“Steve is social worker/therapist for the VA, and we all talked about the still difficult impact of Vietnam. It was very moving. Norma asked Steve what we could all do to help the Vietnam vets. He said, ‘The next time you see one, tell him welcome home.’ With that, we all did that for Steve and gave him a hug.”

The night before at the reunion, our classmate Tommy Clack, a genuine Vietnam hero, had honored and recognized all the Vietnam Vets in our class.
 
In our old yearbook, the editors had the presence to quote a few lines from Alfred Lloyd Tennyson’s Ulysses. The poem is about the aging Ulysses, who is trying to decide to go to sea one more time. The poem has inspired me over the years. Part of that poem reads, “though much is taken, much abides.” Much has been taken, especially from the Vietnam Vets like Tommy and Steve. And thank God, in our little town, “much abides.”
 
What’s happened to Decatur? In many ways, not much at all.