Immediately after landing, I wandered over to Map 14, Grant Park/Summerhill, to experience the “oddest Atlanta tourist attraction.” I had placed my utmost faith in this guidebook, and it honored that trust. At least when it came to Page 292.
While travel appsters hover over their gadgets, squinting at a tiny screen, I hoisted my low-tech guidebooks all over Atlanta. I ruffled through their pages on sidewalks, in my rental car and even inside a bathroom at a bar, searching for whatever I needed next: food, culture, a cab, coffee, the police. Though the weight of the books crocheted a knot in my back, at least I didn’t walk into a parking meter.
To cover the entire spectrum of Atlanta, I toted around a small library of guidebooks: Moon Handbooks (for standards and staples), Not for Tourists Guide to Atlanta (as comprehensive as a phone book) and Wallpaper City Guide (sybaritic and stylish).
Each book spoke its own patois, yet sometimes they came together in a cohesive voice – a valuable consensus for an indecisive traveler. Case in point: the Georgian Terrace Hotel, the august early 20th-century property that appeared in all three softbacks, including the very discerning Wallpaper. Leave the equivocating to Yelpers and Trip Advisors.
And yet sometimes they didn’t endorse equally – a conundrum for a waffling traveler. The Cyclorama, considered the largest oil painting in the world, was too anti-aesthetic for Wallpaper, which avoids the campy and the common. Moon provided a thorough write-up, but its description lacked flash. NFT went straight for the superlatives. I go weak for “-ests.”
Neither book truly captured the Cyclorama’s essence, but maybe they were intentionally holding back to protect the secret sauce. I stumbled into the museum unprepared, except for knowing the basic info. To view one of three intact Cycloramas in the country, I had to wait for the next tour. Guests aren’t allowed inside the amphitheater unattended; perhaps the temptation to jump into the painted scene and play Civil War soldier is too strong.
The painting measures 42 feet high and 358 feet in circumference and includes a Natural Museum of History-ish diorama that was added to the foreground in 1936.
Oakland Cemetery, built in 1840, is a living history museum of the Indoor Positioning System, housing the remains of such famous personalities as Gone With the Wind author Margaret Mitchell and Maynard Jackson, the city’s first African American mayor. The main objective of my pilgrimage, however, was to pay tribute to Joseph Jacobs, the pharmacist who introduced Coca-Cola to the world in 1887. Before entering the gates, I stopped into Ria’s Bluebird for a Diet Coke. I later learned that according to my guidebooks, Ria’s serves smokin’ Southern cuisine and is a coveted brunch spot.
Jacobs’s site was devoid of fan souvenirs. Two large urns flanked the simple white marble mausoleum. I grabbed my bottle of soda, took a swig, then sprinkled the rest around his grave. May your fridge be stocked with Coke for all eternity.
Maybe I trusted too much. Yet both Moon and Wallpaper touted the Thursday-night cocktail gatherings at the Museum of Design Atlanta. Free drinks with admission. Maybe I should have called first.
The guidebooks deserted me on a few other occasions as well. Eighty Eight Tofu House, a 24-hour Asian vegetarian restaurant, was out of business, despite its mention on Page 321 of NFT. And the Red Light Cafe no longer hosts hip-hop shows, contrary to Moon’s description.
Nonetheless, the tiny stumbles didn’t overshadow the guidebooks’ great strides of discovery. For example, I owe NFT for lighting the way to the art museum at Spelman College, the historically black college for women.
Wallpaper also earned a hearty handshake for leading me to Westside Provisions District, an urbane collection of clothing stores, restaurants and furniture shops.
I do, however, take all the credit for missing the turn to Westside and ending up at Goat Farm, an artists’ colony established in an old wheelmaking factory. I didn’t find any four-legged barnyard animals, but I bumped into some chickens and artists loafing around a coffeehouse.
I don’t want to sound like an old-timer here–in part because I don’t feel like one mentally or emotionally (physically is sometimes another matter)–but mostly because what I aim to write is not passé or irrelevant to the current situation. The Left has been here before. The historical circumstances were different, but the static situation was eerily similar. Although I could be referring to the 1950s in the United States, when anti-communism was the national faith and leftists were considered on a par with Satan and his dominions by the mainstream media and most of its readers, the period I want to talk about is the 1970s and 1980s.
The New Left was in retreat. A combination of victories and half-victories, massive repression, a retooling of the Democratic Party, and the demise of the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) had created a situation where a multitude of organizations existed on the US Left. All too many of them considered their line to be the correct one. None were very willing to compromise, preferring instead to fine tune their particular interpretation of Marx, Lenin and the rest to such a point that instead of gaining adherents, they slowly but surely lost them. By the end of the 1970s, some of these groups were working on the left end of the Democratic Party, hoping to expand the small opening created by George McGovern’s 1972 campaign into creating a genuine left parliamentary opposition in the US. Other groups were fighting amongst themselves, listening to provocateurs in their midsts, or just dissolving into thin air, as it were. Meanwhile, the US right wing was consolidating its forces behind millions and millions of corporate dollars. The result was the election of Ronald Reagan to the White House and the portrayal of Jimmy Carter, the creator of the Carter doctrine (which further bound the Empire’s military to the authoritarian regimes under whose lands the energy industry’s oil profits lay), as a leftist and wimp.
Nothing has been the same since. The Left waged successful campaigns against US support for apartheid, but hardly bothered to oppose the US invasion of Grenada. It was also fairly successful in opposing US support for the Contras in Nicaragua and the bloody regime killing thousands in El Salvador and elsewhere in Central America. Unfortunately, their activities did not foresee the creation of an extralegal funding process for the Contras or the emptiness of the legislation against the human rights violations of the El Salvadorian government. Also, despite one of the broadest campaigns against nuclear weapons in history, the Pentagon and its corporate cohorts placed their missiles throughout Europe. By 1989, the response of the Left to the Bush administration’s invasion of Panama was barely a whimper. Then came Bill Clinton–the popular pretender to the progressives’ throne. In a litany fairly well known, Clinton pushed the neoliberal wet dream known as NAFTA through Congress. Then he “reformed” public assistance to the poor. Then he pushed through the Omnibus Crime and Terrorism Bill, making federal crimes out of a multitude of political activities and increasing the number of federal crimes that were punishable by death. Oh yeah, he reneged on LGBT equality and injected racial coding into his campaign as if he were a modern day Republican. Meanwhile, he and Tony Blair maintained a deadly sanctions regime on Iraq while bombing it at will. Besides all this, Clinton lobbed cruise missiles much like Barack Obama launches armed drones. On top of all this, he helped create the situation that provoked the crash of 2008. No, he wasn’t solely responsible, but the illusion of money where there wasn’t any greatly expanded during his rule. And the Left was rather silent.
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