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Hope Babel parked her black Honda
Accord sedan, eased back the seat and
soaked up the afternoon sun. Under clear
Roman skies and 60-degree temperatures, the
24-year-old Rome native and her friend,
Kathryn Thomas, 23, who both work at
Heaven’s Attic Christian bookstore, spent
their half-hour lunch break above the city
on Myrtle Hill. “You kinda feel like you’re
spying on the town below, like you’re
floating on a cloud over Rome,” Babel said.
“Hey, what a view. Right?” she asked. “It’s
beautiful.” Rome’s founders in 1834 thought
so, too. In May of that year, Zachariah B.
Hargrove, Philip Walker Hemphill, William
Smith, John H. Lumpkin and Daniel R.
Mitchell drew names from a hat, each vying
for a chance to name the would-be city. As
luck would have it, Mitchell’s name was
drawn and his suggestion for “Rome” was
adopted. Other suggestions included
Hillsboro, Hamburg, Warsaw and Pittsburgh.
But Mitchell thought the city’s topography
mirrored that of ancient Rome and its seven
hills: Palatine, Capitoline, Quirinal,
Viminal, Esquiline, Caelian and Aventine.
Today, the modern “City of Seven Hills”
includes Myrtle, Blossom, Clock Tower,
Jackson, Lumpkin and Old Shorter hills and
Mount Aventine. And all have evolved — in
name, geology and mystique — through Rome’s
fabled history. After all, “anything of our
history is who we are today,” Babel
insisted.
Myrtle
Hill
Named for 600 crepe myrtle
shrubs planted at the cemetery’s
inception, Myrtle Hill became the city’s
“new” cemetery in 1857, replacing Oak
Hill, which had served Rome since 1837.
Myrtle Hill is listed on the National
Register of Historic Places. But before
it became a cemetery, Myrtle Hill,
located in what was then Hillsboro, was
called Fort Stovall, said Chip Tilly,
archivist for the Rome Area History
Museum. Stovall’s vantage point was ideal
for artillery position during the Civil
War, Tilly said. The hill towers over the
Etowah River near its confluence with the
Oostanaula, where both rivers form the
Coosa. Armament stockpiles once were kept
inside a tunnel located at “Stovall’s”
northern peak. The tunnel, Tilly said,
burrowed through Myrtle’s center, exiting
at the cemetery’s southern slope, where
Confederate and Union soldiers are now
buried. “Legend has it, the Battey vault
was built where the tunnel’s opening once
was,” Tilly speculated. The vault, or
mausoleum, holds the body of Dr. Robert
Battey, a Rome surgeon recognized for
performing the world’s first
oophorectomy, or, surgical removal of the
ovaries. The surgery took place in the
Omberg House, which is still located at
615 W. First St. behind City Hall.
Battey’s vault is the cemetery’s largest.
A black and white photo at the museum
shows a cavern-like entranceway on
Myrtle’s then barren peak, where the
vault now stands. Before refrigeration
was invented, Romans, whose out-of-town
relatives had died while visiting the
city, asked for and were granted
permission to store their loved ones’
bodies inside the vault. More than 40
bodies were never claimed and remain
there today, according to a Greater Rome
Convention and Visitors Bureau leaflet.
Tilly said the tunnel was eventually
imploded, destroying any evidence it ever
existed. But fact or fiction, Rome native
Anne Culpepper considers Myrtle Hill her
“25-acre classroom.” The 1951 Rome High
School graduate conducts tours there
year-round. “It’s just beautiful,” she
said, delighting in Myrtle Hill’s
terraced slopes, manicured landscape,
hulking oak and magnolia trees and
elaborate monuments. Two of Rome’s
founders are buried at Myrtle’s northern
peak, Daniel Mitchell of Canton, who
named and planned Rome, and Zachariah B.
Hargrove of Cassville. A large marble
slab marks Hargrove’s grave, but “there’s
no actual record of him being buried
there,” said Culpepper. Other notable
Roman’s interred in Myrtle Hill are Ellen
Louise Axson Wilson, a Rome native and
the first wife of Woodrow Wilson, 28th
president of the United States, and
Alfred Shorter, for whom Shorter College
is named. He also sold the Myrtle Hill
property to the city of Rome. America’s
Known Soldier, Charles Graves, is
entombed in Myrtle Hill’s northeast
corner. The South Broad Street Bridge,
which serves as the cemetery’s access to
central Rome, was named in Graves’ honor
in 2000. He was among the last U.S.
casualties during World War I. It comes
as no surprise, said Babel during her
lunch break, that Romans would honor
their dead atop Myrtle Hill’s lofty
perch, or any hill in Rome for that
matter. From there, they’re closer to
God, “but God is everywhere, vertically
speaking,” she added. And hills protect
the buried from floods, which were a
frequent occurrence before the levee
system was built around the city’s
central business district in the late
1930s, Culpepper said. Thus, two more
hills in Rome also serve as hallowed
ground: Mount Aventine and Lumpkin
Hill.
Mount
Aventine
Named after ancient Rome’s Mount
Aventine, this 4-acre enclave sits
between South Broad Street and the Etowah
River. It was developed in 1875, said
Paula Blaylock, an interior designer, who
as president of the Mount Aventine
Community Association raised money to
build a marker commemorating Aventine’s
inception, “Est. 1875.” The iron and
stone marker stands in the center of the
neighborhood along Lookout Circle. In the
mid 1800s, workers at the Noble Foundry,
an armament manufacturer located at East
First Avenue where Southeastern Mills now
sits, test-fired cannons across the
Etowah River into Aventine’s northern
ridge. In Roger Aycock’s book, “All Roads
to Rome,” the former Rome News-Tribune
reporter and local historian wrote:
“Rusted relics of Civil War days, these
balls once whistled daily across the
river when each newly made cannon was
test-fired to prove its accuracy.” Apart
from those rusted relics, Aventine’s
hidden treasure is a Jewish cemetery
dating back to the early 1800s. It is
located at the hill’s highest point,
Culpepper said, and is a couple hundred
feet from her childhood home. “Isn’t it
magnificent?” she asked, pulling open an
iron gate at the cemetery’s stone
entrance. Culpepper strolled past each
headstone, reciting on-cue biographies of
the interred, as though they whispered
them in her ear. Tracey Chesser, 35, and
her husband, Joe, have called Aventine
home since they relocated to Rome from
Memphis about three years ago. “There was
a lot of history attached to the
neighborhood,” said Chesser. “I’ve always
been drawn toward older neighborhoods.”
“It’s a good view, when the leaves are
off the trees, and when its cold, the
sunlight just twinkles,” Blaylock said.
Looking north from Mount Aventine toward
Eighth Avenue and Riverside Parkway, Oak
Hill Cemetery, central Rome’s third
hilltop respite, lies in the
distance.
Lumpkin
Hill
Though highway workers during
Turner McCall Boulevard’s construction in
1956 leveled Lumpkin’s peak, the cemetery
remains intact. A stone wall boundary
lines Riverside Parkway across from the
Rome-Floyd County Library, behind T.J.
Applebee’s restaurant and Kentucky Fried
Chicken. Oak Hill’s first interments were
Rebecca Wright Mann and James McIntee.
John H. Lumpkin, one of Rome’s founders —
born June 13, 1813, and died, July 10,
1860 — also is buried there. A monument,
about 20 feet tall, stands over his plot.
After Lumpkin Hill was dismantled by
workers, its dirt was used to reinforce a
foundation for the Holiday Inn, now the
Ramada Inn, across Turner McCall
Boulevard, said Shirley Kinney, a
genealogist. It also helped fortify the
levee along the Oostanaula at the
Kirkland Bridge.
Blossom
Hill
Blossom Hill, Although three of
Rome’s seven hills provide safe havens
for Rome’s deceased, three more have
provided life to a thriving mountain
metropolis. Clock Tower Hill and Jackson
Hill both have supported Rome’s water
reserves in the past. And today, Blossom
Hill’s Bruce Hamler Water Treatment
Plant, named for a former city manager,
handles about 10 million gallons per day
from the Oostanaula and Etowah rivers,
giving thirsty Romans a safe and ample
supply, said Joe Finger, the plant’s
superintendent for 21 years. The hill,
which adjoins Jackson Hill from the
north, overlooks the city’s public works
complex on Vaughn Road. The Hamler plant
was built in 1939, Finger said, and was
upgraded in 1955. George MacGruder Battey
Jr., a descendent of Dr. Robert Battey,
wrote in his “A History of Rome and Floyd
County”: “Many years ago, Blossom Hill
was founded by Mrs. Mary Shephard, a
former slave, and her daughter, Maggie.
The exact year is not known.” Battey
continues, “after emancipation, Mary and
Maggie were wandering in search of
shelter and food. The stopped at a house
in North Rome and asked for food. It was
the home of Judge J. Reece.” The judge
and his wife, wrote Battey, gave the
mother and daughter food and jobs as
maids. While Mary and her daughter lived
with the judge, they would pick blossoms
from trees on a nearby hill. Mary named
it “Blossom Hill.” John Garrett of Rome,
an artifact collector with an extensive
collection of Civil War relics, said
Battey’s account makes sense. In the
early 1800s, both Blossom and Jackson
hills were covered with peach
orchards.
Jackson
Hill
Jackson Hill encompasses about
50 acres around Reservoir Street and
Dogwood Drive in East Rome, situated on
the south end of Blossom Hill. Before the
Rome Convention and Visitors Bureau and
Coosa Valley Regional Development Center
located there in the late 1970s, the hill
held Fort Norton from 1863-1864,
according to a city sponsored development
plan. Fort Norton was named for Charles
B. Norton, according to Gilbert Smith’s
“Historical Narrative of Fort
Norton/Jackson.” Norton was killed at the
first battle of Manassas during the Civil
War. Smith also wrote that a Jackson
family owned most of the surrounding
property, hence the name “Jackson Hill.”
Its wooded peaks shelter entrenchments
and earthworks left from Confederate
soldiers who fought approaching Union
troops during the Civil War. Jim Dixon,
Rome’s assistant city manager, said plans
to develop the hill into a park and
nature preserve are ongoing . He also
said the city hopes to develop theme
trails highlighting the area’s history:
the Civil War, Works Progress
Administration during the great
depression and the site of Rome’s
waterworks. The Jackson Hill waterworks
opened March 24, 1894. It replaced a
reservoir housed in Rome’s Clock Tower.
Jackson was abandoned in 1967 but
remnants of the old structure still
remain. The Rome Civic Center also is
located on Jackson Hill. Its stone facade
reflects an architectural era made
popular by the Works Progress
Administration during the depression,
said Anne Culpepper. Several historic
markers can be found outside the visitors
center.
Old Shorter
Hill
What began as the Cherokee
Baptist Female College in 1843 was
renamed Shorter Female College in 1877.
Alfred Shorter of Washington, Ga., moved
to Rome with his wife, Martha, in 1837.
He was a successful businessman,
according to historical records, and he
contributed $6,000 toward construction
for First Baptist Church in Rome. As a
result, the female college, which
eventually became Shorter, was founded in
the church’s basement. Shorter College
was located in downtown Rome, in the
Between the Rivers District between Third
and College avenues. The president’s
house, Bellevue, is all that’s left of
the original campus. It is now the home
of Dr. Hugh H. Hanson, a retired
physician and his wife, Ann, a Rome
native. They restored the Victorian-style
house in 1985. Most of its original
hardware, including glass paned windows
and a twist-style brass doorbell are
still in use. Hanson said the original
Shorter College was eventually demolished
on site and buried in the hill. Shorter’s
gymnasium once stood in the middle of
Hanson’s cul-de-sac, he said. The
school’s top floors burned in a fire and
the building eventually outlived its
usefulness, Hanson said, so the high
school was moved down the street.
Fortress-like stone walls left from the
college line Third Avenue today. Wrought
iron gates and a three-tiered steel
stairwell that once led to the school now
lead to the new neighborhood.
Clock Tower
Hill
Rome’s Clock Tower is the city’s
most recognized landmark. And Clock Tower
Hill is Rome’s most visible, said Anne
Culpepper during a guided tour. In 1872,
James Noble’s Foundry built Rome’s first
centrally located waterworks systems —
the same foundry that fired cannonballs
into Mount Aventine— on the hill. When
the waterworks moved to Jackson Hill, a
250,000 gallon, 63-foot-tall tank left
behind provided an ideal base for the
clock’s brick decagon superstructure. The
inside of the tower has since been turned
into a museum and features a painted
mural. A spiral staircase, totaling 107
steps, winds around the tank’s outer wall
to an observation deck. The tower, which
includes the clock works and four faces,
is 104 feet tall. “Guess who was up here
the when the clock struck midnight in
1999?” asked Culpepper, winking. Rome is
replete with history. It’s where the
rivers meet and the mountains begin, And
its hills offer a glimpse into an
intriguing past and a promising future.
Montgomery M. Folsom, in his poem “Rome,”
wrote:
“Pictured plains and verdant
valleys Flushed with glorious harvest
hopes, Blithe the balmy breeze that
dallies On thy bloom-embroidered slopes;
Opulent with promise springing From the
freshly-furrowed loam, Jubilant the joy
bells ringing On thy hills, resplendent
Rome!”
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Tower
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