Fate Unsure

“Fate Unsure” was an article that appeared in the Special Sesquicentennial II, Ledger-Enquirer, Sunday, 23 April, 1978

Stockade “Way Down”

By Clason Kyle, Sesquicentennial  Editor




The closed Columbus Stockade has a right to sing the blues. For more than five years now, it has been limbo while everyone has pondered and no one has decided its fate.

Since "caring for" its last prisoners on Jan. 3, 1972, the structurally-sound brick building—actually two structures joined about the turn of the century— has been used by the Jaycees as the site of an auction and currently is leased to the Historic Columbus Foundation which Is using it as a storehouse for architectural artifacts and antique furniture—a far cry from its non-halcyon days as a home-away-from-home for an average of 120 prisoners a day.

(A newspaper account reports that it served 129,972 meals in 1961.)

The Stockade, which appears on maps of Columbus prior to 1870, has double importance, whether one regards. it as one building or two. Architectural historians think it is "grand" because of its standing seam metal roof, its iron-arched windows, its four brick indented pilasters, its brick stringcourse between floors, its double central door and Palladian upper-story win¬dow.

 Musicians become glassy-eyed with enthusiasm over it because of the song that was written in its honor, "The Columbus Stockade Blues." As a local columnist noted more than a dozen years ago, "The building is easily the most renowned of our local tourist attractions, with the possible exception of Ft. Benning." He then observed that no one had come forward—at that time—to save the structure and he proposed that signs be "plastered across the countryside: 'See the Columbus Stockade Museum!' And proceeds from tickets could be devoted to operating a rest home in that same old building for ex-inmates of the institution."

The Stockade achieved its fame and infamy as an institution for those serving sentences for various law violations. As recently as 1961, a grand jury termed it a firetrap and said that it was in bad shape, "a disgrace to our city." Subsequent grand juries, such as the one in 1964, called the Stockade "deplorable."

However, it continued to function as a jail until Jan. 3, 1972. Well, more or less, it functioned. One newspaper account of 1968 reported that there were, over a couple of years, some 112 prisoners who escaped. The guards didn't wear guns, and many prisoners jumped off the backs of trucks stopped at stoplights and others slipped away in wooded areas on cleaning details.

It is the harmonic lament of a  fictitious prisoner that put the Seventh Avenue and 10th Street structure on the musical map in 1927.

A song was written by Thomas P. Darby, a Columbus native, and his partner, Jimmy Tarlton, a famous guitar-picking and singing duo of the day. The first lines went:  'Way down in Columbus, Georgia, Wanna be back in Tennessee, 'Way Down In Columbus Stockade. Friends  have turned their backs on me . . .'

The inspiration for the song, according to an interview with Darby before his death in August of 1971, was his brother, an ex-sailor. "who spent about half his time in there."

Did Darby and Tarlton become rich and famous? No. Darby and Tarlton received no royalties for their disc  because they sold it for a flat fee, not thinking it would  rate so highly on the popularity charts. Yet, despite the  absence of juke boxes and television to promote it, it  reportedly sold by the millions.

And since you can't keep a good tune quiet for very  long, "'Way Down in Columbus, Georgia" or "The  Columbus Stockade Blues" came back In 1963 as a Chad  Mitchell Trio song entitled "Leave Me If You Want To."  According to its label, it was "arranged and adapted by Mitchell, Frazier and Koboluk." Fully named, these are Chad Mitchell Joe Frazier and Mike Koboluk, with the Chad Mitchell Trio actually being a quartet, with Jim McGuinn supplying the guitar accompaniment. ( And those are their real names, something of an oddity in show biz.)

An article in The Enquirer of Feb. 26, 1957 said the song – on the opposite side was “Birmingham Jail”—netted the composers (Darby –Tarlton) “little financial reward. They were under contract to a recording company at the time and sold their services outright. Neither dreamed the record would be such a success, and they say no royalties were ever received. The only monetary benefit was a new and better paying contract.”

Together for only four or five years, Darby and Tarlton were reunited in the summer of 1963 when they agreed to be part of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra”s opening pops concert in Weracoba Park. The orchestra’s manager at that time was Mrs. Robert Davis, who was quoted as saying, “ The Symphony was delighted to learn that the two guitarists would perform. I Understand that this is the first time they’ve played together in many, many years.”

Jimmie Tarlton and Tom Darby, composers of Columbus Stockade Blues

The same 1963 article said that Darby reported that they had gotten together and that “Tarlton’s fine wife said we sounded even better than before. Made goose pimples come up on her arms, she said.”

At the concert, they also performed some of their other compositions, including “Longest Train I Ever Saw” and “Lonesome in Pines.”

The Columbus Stockade has been nominated for inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places. Researchers have turned up many famous musicians have recorded versions of “the Columbus Stockade Blues,” including Jimmy Davis, Leeny Dee, Pete Fountain, Woody Guthrie, Bill Monroe, the Nashville Brass and Webb Pierce. The musical interpretations range from bluegrass to jazz, clarinet to the sound of electric guitars and band—and even a college marching band. This was when the University of Tennessee band, playing in the 1972 Blue Bonnet Bowl, began its half-time salute to country music by striking up the familiar lines,  “Way Down in Columbus, Georgia.” Perhaps one of the reasons was the next line is “Wanna be back in Tennessee.”

Weeds have grown to the Stockade’s second floor window bars and its stout brick walls are disappearing from view behind vines and debris. Yep, the closed Columbus Stockade has a right to sing the blues.

___

Special Sesquicentennial II, Ledger-Enquirer, Sunday, April 23, 1978, pg S-26

File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/ga/muscogee/photos/jimmytar12643gph.txt

© David Neale 2020