Tag five points

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Platonic Kiss Is O.K. Even at Five Points Asserts Police Chief

Jun 21, 1913

The Constitution: Atlanta, GA

Saturday, June 21, 1913 p1

Chief James Beavers Gives Analysis of “Divine Mode of Greeting,” and Tells When It Is Alright.

“A light imprint of the lips, gentle, brief and dispassionate. A heavenly collision of the lips or the lips with the cheek.” – Chief James L. Beavers’ analysis of a kiss.

Atlanta lovers need have no fears that the kiss will soon be taboo in Atlanta. Kissing is all right, so said Chief Beavers yesterday, thus setting at rest all the reports that he was an enemy of osculation.

Since the recent arrest of an amorous couple in a cab at the Terminal station, who osculated too openly and too drunkenly, the kissing public of Atlanta has been rather dubious of the attitude of Chief Beavers.

Not the Slightest Reason.

But there was no the slightest reason. The chief is a champion of kissing—in fact, he believes in it strongly, declaring to a Constitution reporter Friday that so long as a kiss was a kiss—the genuine article passed upon by the board of censorship—it was perfectly proper anywhere, even in a taxicab.

A kiss, he said, is a divine mode of greeting. It is the sweetest of all salutations, and if folks shake hands on the street, why shouldn’t they be allowed to kiss as well?

“A platonic kiss,” the chief declared, “would be permitted in the very heart of Five Points. A couple could greet each other kissingly in a Whitehall street show window, just so long as they didn’t overdo things.

Nothing Wrong With Kiss.

“There’s nothing wrong with a kiss, the right kind of kiss, and police interference need never be feared. No policeman is going to make arrests for kissing alone. The most moral member of the ‘vice squad’ would even disapprove of an osculatory greeting.”

After which discussion the chief gave the definition of a kiss:

A light imprint of the lips, gentle, brief and dispassionate. A heavenly collision of the lips or the lips with cheek. He declared that the man and woman arrested in the cab at the Terminal station were not indulging in kissing alone. Both were intoxicated, he said, and intoxicated persons should not kiss. Their conduct was unprintable, he said, and both should have been fined. The woman, said the chief, was so drunk that she had to be sent to Grady hospital.

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“Hot Tamale!” Yells Crowd, While Weinerwurst Stand Burns Up at Five Points

Mar 20, 1913

THE CONSTITUTION, ATLANTA, GA

THURSDAY MARCH 20, 1913

When the gasolene burner and the cloth top of a wienerwurst stand got in too close proximity to each other there was trouble last night for a Greek “wienie man” at Five Points.

Flames suddenly flared up and the entire stand, on wheels, would have been burned completely had not two officers, Gordon and Swinney, grabbed the top off the stand and thrown it out into the street. The gasolene tank came off also and saturated the top, which blazed fiercely for five minutes, while a great crowd gathered and yelled in glee:

“Hot tamale!” “Oh, you hot dog!”

When the show was over a keen-eyed youngster peered into the blackened hot box of the charred stand and, winking his eye, said:

“Did the fire burn the hot tamale or the wienewurst?”

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“JAY WALKING” IS A DISEASE IN ATLANTA DECLARE THE WORRIED TRAFFIC OFFICERS

Aug 27, 1912

THE CONSTITUTION: ATLANTA, GA. TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 1912.

What! Don’t know a “Jay Walker?”

Never have seen one?

Then you have never been at Five Points, nor Whitehall and Alabama streets, or perhaps you are one yourself.

Quizz the first cop you meet, inquire of your family physician, or one of the bonesetters at any hospital, or ask the guy who holds the inquest.

This Will Be Verdict.

Some of these days coroner’s juries will return verdicts which will read: “Came to his death from ‘Jay Walking.’ ” It used to be a habit—persons who claim to be authorities on the subject say—but now it is a disease. And it’s catching, just like chickenpox, a thirst for something cold to drink—the morning after.

A traffic policeman at Five Points designated at least fifty persons who were “Jay Walkers,” or who have dangerous symptoms. And the strange part of it none of them realize it. Few have even thought of such a thing, and if you should happen to accuse them they would probably knock on your ding dong for the information.

“You can stand on this corner any busy afternoon and count nearly twice that number,” the cop declared.

“See that guy over there, well he’s a ‘Jay Walker.’ Some day there will be nothing but a grease spot here, and his family will point to the spot where daddy was last seen. He is what they call a busy business man in the story books, but he is what us cops call a nuisance, a ‘Jay Walker,’ a man who is always in his own way.

“Looker there! I told you—”

Mr. Jay Walker in Danger.

And the cop pointed to the Decatur street crossing. The “Jay Walker” had started across the street, nose pointed heavenward, and all unconscious of the fact that a lumber truck, puffing and snorting, and shrieking under the sudden pressure of the brakes, was bearing down on him. Instead of beating it for the nearest sidewalk, Mr. “Jay Walker” stops in his tracks and continues to gaze complacently at the negro washing a second story window in the opposite building.

“Can you beat that?” demanded the cop, and he hastens over to inform Mr. “Jay Walker” that the driver of the truck is entitled to about ten feet of the street.

“See that dame flirting across the street?” exclaimed the cop, pointing to a vision that looked like a rainbow shooting across Peachtree. “Well, she is a ‘Jay Walker.’ ”

“I don’t get yer, Steve—explain?”

“Well, Bo, ‘Jay Walkers’ are persons who cut across corners—dash across the streets cat-a-cornered—who have not the time to walk along the sidewalk to the proper crossing. ‘Jay Walkers’ are people who are always flirting with death—who will run right in front of a street car, an automobile, or a fire engine, and if they happen to get splattered with mud will curse the driver to a fare-the-well. And if—”

“Hold on you bonehead!” shouted the cop at a chauffeur who was about to run his motor over a group of women who stood in the center of the street to exchange greetings, “ain’t you got no respect for ladies what hold reception on the street—”

Then to the ladies—

“Misses, won’t you please move to the sidewalk and let that fathead with the ice truck go by? Thank you ever so much

“Gee, but it’s getting fierce.”

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