This picture of Blackjack Mountain was taken from the roof of Kennesrone Hospital parking deck.
BlackJack Mountain is no more than two miles east of Marietta. When I was about 13 our family moved from Manget Street to Richard Street. Our new house on Richard Street was one block from the US 41 Highway, a.k.a. Dixie Highway. Across the highway was a big patch of woods.
This was before the I-75 came through Marietta. . Where Richard Street intersected the 4-Lane was almost at the bottom of a hill, both ways. About 1959 or 60 Larry Holcomb bought a black 1955 Chevrolet from Bobby McEntyre.. After Larry bought it, he drove by to give me a ride in it. Afterwards we went to Varner’s Drive-In. Then Larry carried me home. He was on the 4-Lane, stopped to wait for a southbound vehicle to go by then he was to turn left onto Richard Street. The vehicle hurried by and he turned his steering wheel left… the Chevvy was dead. Ir would not start. We put it in nutural but it was slightly uphill, we could not bulge it. Then behind us, up at the top of the hill coming towards us was a 18 wheeler big truck. We put extra strength intro our muscle to move the Chevvy and it still would not move. The truck was getting closer, making a loud noise and almost on us. Larry jumped away. Me, the idiot, jumped inside the driver’s seat and put my foot on the brake petal. The driver of the 18 wheeler saw the tail lights and slammed on his brakes making a terrible screeching noises and metal clanging noises.. He missed us and almost swerving which almost caused him to turn over.
But he kept on going leaving a cloud of burned rubber and middle lane dust. That is all I remember about that time.
Speaking of wrecks on the 4 Lane that cost lives. About 1958 or 59 on Christmas Eve a car full of MHS students had a wreck at Barnes Mill Road and the 4 Lane. All but one or two were killed. I knew most of them.
Speaking of death on Barnes Mill Road. Marietta’s Potters Grave yard was on Barnes Mill Road. My blind old friend Charlie that lived behind Glover Machinery was buried there. But to make room for the new I-75 the Potters Cemetery had to go. I don’t know what happened to Old Blind Charlie’s body.
On the other side of the woods from where Richard Street was a rock quarry and a lake with houses around. The woods were where WHITE WATER AMUSEMENT PARK would be built many years later But in the meantime we used the acreage of woods as our own private amusement park.
We had rabbit traps, which caught mostly opposums.
I remember my friend Sam Carsley walked over to our hose one day. He had a can of compressed shaving cream. I forgot if he brought his gun or used my .22, but we went to the woods (future Whiewater) and made a target of the shaving cream. When one of it hit and penetrated the can the sudden release of pressure made the can go airborne and spinned like crazy, Just what Sam thought. Sam was a Georgia Tech student.
A block away from us on Richard Street was the Boston Home. School friends that lived in the Boston Homes, Gene Brown, Milton, Martin, me, and a guy with the last name Lawson dragged some lumber to those woods where Whitewater would be and built a little shabby cabin. Mind you, we were preteens. One of us brought girly magazines. They were not totally nude, but near. Skimpy would best described their attair. One kid that came along one time was totally taken back with the girly magazines. We all noticed he tilted each picture in the magazine sideways to see if he could see down the models’ bras.
We cracked up and it embarrassed him.
Another time, James from my old neighborhood on Manget Street came with camping gear. He wanted to camp out at the Rock Quarry on the edge of a cliff. We did. It wasn’t nearly as adventurous as he had hoped for.
Down by the lake years later the city built a small park for kids. Maybe with swings, see-saws, sandbox and whatever else for young kids to play. Years later after I had grown up and in the work force I remember hearing on the news that a man was hung high up in a tree overlooking the little park. He was lynched. The man was from another country.
Wallace Road separated the park, lake, and the woods on one side and on the other was the incline steepness of Blackjack Mountain which Barns Mill Road went straight up without curving around.
Almost at the top of Blackjack Mountain was a huge water tank that served Marietta. On the road, after you past the water tank and go over the hill there was a little dirt driveway that led to a farm. In front of the farm was a lake with a dock. We took our clothes off and went swimming. The first time we did that the owner materialized to talk to us. He told us he did not mind us swimming in his lake, but he wanted us to ask permission each time. He had a Lockheed badge on his belt, which of course, meant he worked at Lockheed. We did asked for permission for a while. As one enters his driveway off Barnes Mill Road on the right there was a pig pen with several pigs in it. Sometimes we would pet the pigs with a stick and talk to them. I remember one time jokingly asking the pigs for permission to swim in the lake.
Our lime visiting the lake I forgot if it was Buddy Sharp or Jimmy Pat. When we stopped to talk to the pigs either Buddy or Jimmy Pat poked a pig with a stick. I think they poked the pig in her uterus. She started squealing, either in pain or ecstasy . Then she sat on the stick and it broke off inside her. She squealed louder and maybe happier. We thought we might get into trouble if we stayed. We did not go back.
Years later I read that female pigs have many climaxes on in rapid sequence. Maybe that was it.
Years later, going down Barnes Mill Road on the other side, about the distance of a city block an apartment complex my youngest son lived at for a while
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