Originally published in the Georgia Historical Quarterly 95, no. 3 (Fall 2011). By Paul K. Graham. Courtesy of the Georgia Historical Society.
Edward Arista Vincent arrived in Savannah in 1851 educated, motivated, and savvy. The young immigrant from England, versed in architecture, engineering, and surveying, looked to Georgia’s budding inland cities as the place to launch a career. Driven and ambitious, Vincent completed four cartographic works and one major architectural project in less than three years—only to succumb to disease at age twenty-seven, in 1856. Vincent’s map of Atlanta became the blueprint for Sherman’s siege and occupation of the city, and almost eight years after his death the destruction of his Gate City railroad depot marked the beginning of the March to the Sea. Today, his maps provide a spatial record of three Georgia cities as the Civil War loomed. Contemporary records, together with his documented works, unmask this elusive historical character, revealing the triumphs and difficulties faced by a professional-minded immigrant launching a career in the antebellum South. The socioeconomic environment of antebellum Georgia provided enterprising young men with opportunities for rapid advancement, but success was often fleeting.
Only a passing hint of Vincent’s early life survives. In public records he successfully severed connections to his homeland, only acknowledging his British citizenship and training in the engineering disciplines. Vincent claimed London as his origin, but at his death the Atlanta Intelligencer asked that Liverpool papers copy his obituary. Immigrating to the United States in 1849, he arrived in New York City and apparently lived there for two years. The events of his life during that curcial period remain unknown. According to his “Declaration of Intention” to become a US citizen, Vincent left Liverpool on the ship Constitution in May 1849. A search of passenger manifests of two of the ship’s arrivals in the spring and summer of 1849 yielded multiple young men named “Edward,” but no “Edward Vincent.” Although men named Edward Vincent were listed on New York census records and in city directories in 1850, none appears to be the man that showed up in Georgia a year later. Perhaps he took Vincent as a new name for the start of a new life. Leaving New York in 1851, he joined other ambitious young men who made their way from the North to Savannah.1
Vincent arrived in the port city in April, and shortly after began his first and most ambitious cartographic project: a map of Savannah. On February 16, 1852, after ten months of work, he delivered the map to lithographers Snyder and Black in New York. An advertisement and related short article in the Daily Morning News that day provide insight into his business venture. Vincent told the newspaper that he “expended much labor on the work, and has been to great pains to make it perfect in every respect,” while noting that “it will be the most complete and perfect map ever got up of this city.” Funding for publication came from private subscriptions, available for four dollars per copy, for purchase at Vincent’s office at the Central Railroad building, or through J. M. Cooper, a bookseller. Newspaper accounts contain no indication that a patron commissioned Vincent to produce the map. The effort appears to have been a speculative venture on his part—a way to launch his career. Despite a claim to have maps ready for subscribers by March 1852, the proof sheets arrived in August. That Vincent incorrectly judged the time required to prepare a map did not deter his boosters, as the Daily Morning News heaped praise on the delayed proofs: “This map is a most elaborate and complete affair, and … it will be one of the most perfect things of the kind that has ever been produced.”2
Vincent’s Savannah map deserves the praise. It measures forty-seven inches wide and forty-six inches tall, made up of four lithographed sheets carefully glued together at half-inch seams. At a scale of 200 feet per inch, the map shows Savannah’s squares, blocks, surrounding country, and recent river soundings in great detail. Vincent’s choice to include outlines of all structures in the city, and distinguishing public, brick, and wood buildings, demonstrates his level of ambition. Vincent used a visual technique for delineating city blocks common in maps of the period, maximizing figure-ground by drawing east- and south-facing lines twice as thick as those west- and north-acing. This simple design choice produces a three-dimensional effect, visually pulling the “figure” of city blocks forward from the “ground” of the streets, and he used it in later maps. Engraved scenes of the Custom House, Independent Presbyterian Church, St. John’s Episcopal Church, and the Pulaski Monument adorn the map, likely to the credit of engravers George Snyder and James Black rather than Vincent. Subscribers could order a colorized version of the map for an extra fee.3
A selection of Vincent’s map of Savannah, 1853, showing squares and structures, including the “Historical Socialy [sic] House.” Note the seam between two lithographed sheets running vertically to the left of Johnson Square. Courtesy of the Cartographic and Architectural Division, National Archives, College Park, MD.
The grand public unveiling of Vincent’s map of Savannah came on March 24, 1853, more than six months after the proof review. Richard H. Howell—New York-born Savannah lithographer, Vincent’s agent in Savannah, and retailer of the map—delivered a copy to ecstatic editors at the Daily Morning News. “We confess that although we had seen some of the proofs, and had been made acquainted with the leading features of the work, we did not expect to see so handsome a map of our truly beautiful city.” The next day the newspaper suggested city leaders should distributed copies of the map to interior towns and “our sister cities in the North,” but city council minutes do not mention such a purchase. On March 30 Vincent’s name appeared on a published list of consignees for the ship Florida from New York, possibly receiving copies of the map. A week later Vincent announced that he transferred his copyright to Samuel S. Sibley, a Savannah bookseller originally from New Jersey, who would fill all future orders for the map.4
In the months between review and delivery of the Savannah map, Vincent commenced two projects in Atlanta. First, the Western & Atlantic Railroad (W&A) hired him to design a passenger depot. Historical documents only reveal a rough timeline, but Vincent left Savannah for Atlanta by November 22, 1852, when he gave his contact information as “Western and Atlantic Railroad Office.” In January 1853 officers of multiple railroads gathered to plan the construction of a passenger depot; at the time, passengers stepped off the train onto an open deck. Vincent possibly attended this meeting to explain his proposal. Attendees failed to reach an agreement, and newspapers expressed disappointment in the meeting’s inadequate results: “Who is responsible for this unpleasant state of things, we know not, and all the harm we wish them, is an occasional descent into the mud and mire of Atlanta, followed by a slight paroxysm of the asthma.” Railroad officials took action soon after, hiring Vincent by February 9, 1853. On May 3 the Southern Recorder in Milledgeville described the nearly-complete depot as “an ornament to the city.” Vincent received $100 on December 22 from the W&A for “drafting,” most likely payment in full for the depot design. Although some sources give a completion date of 1854, construction most likely finished prior to Vincent’s final payment.5
Vincent drew from popular architectural fashions for the Atlanta car shed, particularly simplified versions of the Romanesque Revival and Italianate styles, both rising in popularity during the 1840s. Round-arch entrances greeted trains and passengers at each end. Arcaded columns faced with pilasters topped with Tuscan-style capitals ran the length of the structure. Inside, a long service area extended 17 feet through the center of the depot, with a ticket office, waiting rooms, baggage storage (lost baggage rooms for each railroad), and a “Refreshment Saloon,” A frame clerestory topped the bow-arch roof, bringing light to the interior. At each end, two ocular lights flanked three round-arched windows. With a footprint the size of a modern football field, the depot dwarfed all other buildings in the city. “No structure could have spoken more eloquently for the new city than his purely utilitarian passenger depot. Here we find the liberal architecture of the Industrial Revolution blooming in cotton’s conservative garden.” Vincent’s car shed joined numerous brick depots constructed by southern railroads in the 1850s that replaced worn wooden structures from the initial period of rail development. By 1856 many of the South’s largest railroad terminals boasted car sheds similar to the one Vincent designed, including West Point and Macon in Georgia, and Charleston, South Carolina. Designed by 1860 but not completed until 1876, only Savannah’s Central of Georgia train shed survives to testify to the architectural influences of Vincent and his contemporaries.6
Concurrent with the depot work, Vincent responded to a request by the Atlanta City Council to propose a map of Atlanta. Fifteen years old at the time, Atlanta lacked an official city map. Mayor John Mims reported Vincent’s offer to the city council on February 16, 1853: payment of one hundred dollars, and the author retained copyright. Vincent worked on the map during the spring of 1853. Printed by August, the Savannah Daily Morning News thanks Vincent for a copy of the map on September 1. This time Vincent secured the services of lithographer Richard Howell in Savannah. In November, the Atlanta City Council—proud of the new drawing of their city—ordered that copies be sent to mayors of the other major cities in Georgia.7
The Atlanta map reflects two lessons Vincent learned from his Savannah experience. First, he worked at a smaller scale—four hundred feet per inch—making its size more manageable (thirty inches wide and thirty-one inches tall). Second, he avoided documenting numerous structures, probably having found it both manually taxing and economically unsound. Whereas the Savannah map included all buildings public and private, the Atlanta map shows thirty-five labeled structures, included Vincent’s depot in State Square. Avoiding further time and expense, he included only one artistic element. Foreshadowing the war to come, the single picture depicts a man in a militia uniform holding an American flag over a seated woman, with a moving train arriving at the wooded hamlet of Atlanta in the background. Of importance to researchers, Vincent’s map shows land lots, blocks, and lot numbers, all elements of legal descriptions used in city property transactions.8
With the Atlanta map in the lithographer’s hands and the railroad depot nearing completion, Vincent turned his attention to Macon—but not before taking a vacation. He visited Catoosa Springs in North Georgia, known for its medicinal properties, the week of August 18. The City of Macon welcomed Vincent on his return to the piedmont by electing him city surveyor, the vote occurring on August 26, 1853. Over the next two months, Macon gave Vincent three specific jobs. In September, the council contracted with him to lay out an unsurveyed area of the city commons into one-acre lots, and to produce a map of the city. October brought a third contract, this one for Vincent to supervise the construction of city sewers, for which he earned 2.5 percent of the cost. Confident in his new position and responsibilities, Vincent launched a general advertising campaign in the Georgia Telegraph. He labeled himself “Architect and Civil Engineer, and City Surveyor,” and touted his third city map. “Gentlemen wishing copies of the new Map of Macon, will please register their names at my office, as no other copies will be issued.” The ad ran for three months. By this time, with membership in Macon Lodge No. 5, Vincent had secured his place as a Mason.9
From Macon, Vincent expanded his efforts to Augusta, where he began running advertisements in the Daily Chronicle and Sentinel. These notices provide insights into the difficulties inherent in his business venture. Vincent’s first ad ran on November 17, 1853, announcing that “during Mr. V’s absence from Augusta, Mr. Charles DeRangow, late of the Engineering Department at Washington, will act for him.” Less than three weeks later, Vincent broke his tie to DeRangow: “Having been obliged to dismiss my assistant, Mr. C. DeRangow, for continual drunkeness [sic], the public are hereby cautioned against trusting him on my account.” On December 1 Vincent noted that he had “secured the valuable services of Mr. E. W. Brown, Architect and Builder, of this city.” Once again, the partnership did not last; Brown separated from Vincent on February 1, 1854. Vincent’s regular notice ran to April 11, 1854, after which he printed no more advertisements in Georgia papers.10
DeRangow and Brown have their own stories, with DeRangow’s being even more elusive than Vincent’s. After his partnership with Vincent ended, Charles DeRangow advertised his own drafting business, providing “Designs and Details for all kinds of Buildings, Machinery and Patents.” He also opened a night school for mechanics and architects, charging twelve dollars for thirty-six lessons. Of DeRangow’s work, only one undated example survives: an elevation and floor plan for a two-story, thirteen-room residence. His origins and fate remain unknown. The last mention of DeRangow comes from an R. G. Dun & Co. correspondent’s credit report in June 1855: “disappeared lately and left a few
over-clothes which were seized for rent.”11
Unlike DeRangow, Enoch William Brown left both an architectural and a genealogical legacy. Born December 9, 1814, in Stratham, New Hampshire, Brown moved to Charleston, South Carolina, by the birth of his first child in 1843. There he designed and supervised construction of both Grace and Trinity Episcopal churches. In the early 1850s Brown moved to Augusta, making the city his permanent residence. He and Vincent arrived in the city during the same period, and by December 1853 used the same office space next to the Augusta bank. Soon after establishing himself in Augusta, Brown launched a “School for instruction in Architectural and Industrial Drawing” and advertised his offering of “Specifications and Designs for Buildings, of every description.” Over his career, he designed numerous buildings in the city, including the Masonic Temple, Georgia Railroad Bank, Sibley Mill, and the Augusta Cotton Exchange. Brown died August 8, 1890, in Augusta.12
Vincent lost two partners in as many months, but that did not end his difficulties; his work in Macon fell short of expectations. The city council received Vincent’s map by February 1854, but instead of offering praise, it referred the map and his commons survey to a committee for review. After four months of deliberation, the committee announced its results. Committee members publicly rebuked Vincent’s work in an official report. In the interim period, the council appointed a new city surveyor. Problems with the map included a street across the Macon & Western Railroad where no crossing yet existed and some incorrectly numbered squares and lots. The committee avoided assigning blame to Vincent because they provided him with faulty records. The body did require a disclaimer be added to each copy of the map, indemnifying the city from any legal action resulting from their use. More important than the map, the council complained about Vincent’s survey of the city commons. He apparently did not mark two streets; the city would not vouch for his markers along railroad property; and he used green oak saplings for stakes, not the heart pine desired by the council. Although paid an initial $200 for his efforts, the council denied Vincent a final $200 payment until he re-staked the lots. Surviving documents do not reveal the outcome of this confrontation, but in a last vote of confidence, the city council voted to present copies of the map to “the principal cities and towns of the State of Georgia.”13
Despite the city council’s complaints, the map of Macon remains an important spatial document. Vincent employed figure-ground and shading techniques, methods used in both his previous efforts, making the map immediately recognizable as his work. Drawn at the scale of four hundred feet per inch, it measures thirty-seven inches wide and thirty inches tall. Forty structures noted across the map consist of public buildings and private residences, and lot and block numbers feature prominently. Returning to the aesthetic interest displayed in the Savannah map, Vincent highlighted the Baptist Church, Macon Female College, the Botanical Medical College, and four private residences in drawings around the edge of the map. Unfortunately, it bears no lithographer’s imprint.14
Following the difficult experience in Macon, Vincent completed only one additional work, a fold-out pocket map of the original Appling County, in south Georgia. Published with J. C. Edwards, a Macon land agent, the partners compiled this utilitarian map—a “Check on District Map”—using land lottery district plats available to them at the surveyor general’s office in Milledgeville. The map’s simplistic style and limited aesthetic appeal diverge significantly from Vincent’s city maps. A purely functional map, it served the needs of “owners and dealers in Land,” showing land districts, land lots, water courses, and towns, along with the boundaries of new counties cut from original Appling between 1820 and 1854. During the same period, Edwards published a similar map of Irwin County, which adjoined Appling to the west, but with no credit to Vincent. At his death, Vincent possessed numerous copies of a third county map, this one of Union County in north Georgia, likely also published by Edwards. Purchasing them from Vincent’s estate in January 1857, Marcus A. Bell of Atlanta advertised the pocket maps for sale to the public in September of that year. J. H. Colton, the successful map publisher from New York, printed the Appling and Irwin maps, and likely the Union map as well.15
Mystery shrouds the two years between Vincent’s Appling project and his death, when he disappears from the public record. Difficulties in Augusta and Macon may have driven down demand for his services, or the market for architects in Georgia may have become saturated. Former partners DeRangow and Brown represent only two such competitors who arrived in the state around 1850. An intriguing explanation, that Vincent sought work in Tennessee, lacks verifiable sources. In 1975 master’s degree candidate Joseph L. Herndon identified a “C. A. Vincent” of Nashville as the architect of the W&A depot in Atlanta. Unfortunately, his sources do not offer definitive proof of that particular Vincent’s identity. Edward A. Vincent does not appear on extant tax digests of Savannah, Chatham County, Fulton County, or Richmond County, and no evidence has come to light proving his U.S. citizenship. Naturalization law at the time required two years residence following the “Declaration of Intention” before an immigrant could become a citizen, making Vincent eligible in November 1854. His last known appearance on the public record before his death came in a proposal to the Atlanta city council to produce “fifty copies of an improved map.” The council accepted the proposal on February 23, 1855, but rescinded its action one week later.16
When Vincent died Atlanta city sexton G. A. Pilgrim noted the cause of death as “desease.” The notation reflects the mystery of Vincent’s final illness, which, under the watchful eye of physician E. N. Calhoun, lasted at least sixteen days. During that period Calhoun hired a number of young slaves to wait on Vincent. The dying man must have appreciated Willis, a boy owned by attorney Thomas L. Cooper, because he requested that the slave be paid fifty cents directly, the value of a half day’s hire. Edward Arista Vincent died November 19, 1856. In addition to the cause of death, sexton Pilgrim noted Vincent’s birth in England and his age: twenty-seven years, ten months, eighteen days (born January 1, 1829). Contemporary issues of the Atlanta Intelligencer no longer survive, but the Daily Morning News in Savannah copied the obituary: “Mr. Edward A. Vincent, a young Englishman, about 27 years of age, who has resided in Atlanta for two years, died here on Tuesday night last after an illness of six weeks. He was by profession an architect. Those who knew him best esteemed him as an upright honorable young man. He was buried in this city on Wednesday, with Masonic honors.”17
Vincent’s estate offers a snapshot of the life of a young professional in antebellum Georgia. Not surprisingly, he had debts to pay. Vincent’s largest creditor, attorney Adam W. Jones, held a $200 note against the architect and eventually recovered $43.50 from the estate. Available records do not clarify the purpose of this loan. Vincent also owed money to Morgan, Kirkpatrick & Co., a furniture manufacturer and retailer of household furnishings. The owners obtained a judgment against the estate in April 1857 and received a total of $76 in early 1858. The estate received $127 from the Georgia Rail Road and Banking Company agency, either payment for services rendered or money from an account. Of the $377 value of Vincent’s estate, more than $250 went to pay for expenses associated with his final illness, and for administration of the estate.18
Vincent’s financial situation tells only part of the story. He possessed all of the accoutrements of someone in his line of work. Second in value to his gold watch, Vincent owned a theodolite, an angle-measuring tool used by sophisticated surveyors of the era. Distance measuring tools included a surveyor’s chain, tape line, and yard measure. Dr. Currier, Atlanta’s city surveyor, purchased a set of plotting instruments at the estate sale. Vincent owned dozens of maps and drawings, including 123 copies of the three county maps published in 1854. One map (possibly an ordnance survey) offers a clue to his origins; he owned a “Map of Petersham” that may represent the locale in London.
The record of Vincent’s estate sale includes an enumeration of the contents of his library, allowing for a nearly complete reconstruction of its contents. Volumes related to his professional development included City Architecture by Field; Elementary Principles of Carpentry by Tredgold; and “Art of Drawing,” likely one of two separate manuals for lithographers published in 1849 and 1851. The books also open a window into the young man’s personal life. He read popular romances but also delved into classical and philosophical literature. Religious works included a Bible, Alleine’s An Alarm to Unconverted Sinners, and Dante’s Vision. Vincent also had worldly concerns and was looking toward finding a mate; he owned a copy of Weaver’s Hopes and Helps for the Young of Both Sexes.
Although Vincent did not live to see it, his works played roles in the Civil War. Making preparations for an offensive campaign through Georgia, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers confiscated and collected maps of the region, including Vincent’s Subdivision Map of the City of Atlanta. At the Topographical Department of General William T. Sherman’s Army of the Cumberland, engineers traced and reprinted the map, creating a base map for planning the assault and occupation of Atlanta. Known for his colorful and detailed maps produced for the Union Army, Robert Knox Sneden used Vincent’s work as the base for a map of the defenses around Atlanta as they appeared on the day the Union Army entered the city, September 1, 1864. Sneden’s additions include one of the few detailed surviving maps of Confederate works in the immediate proximity of the city, as well as other features like the Whitehall Plantation just southwest of the city. Vincent had produced his map at the behest of a proud mayor, but eleven years later it came to be used as a tool to destroy the city.19
Vincent’s only known architectural project also played a role in the Union’s capture of the important railroad city. As the dominant structure in the strategic city, the depot drew the attention of photographer George Barnard, who made it a subject of his work more than any other single building. Through his photographs, Barnard tells the story of the depot’s last days in three parts. The first images capture activity at the depot, with wagons leaving the city and refugees loading boxcars with their belongings. Later photographs show troops preparing for the next stage of Sherman’s long march across Georgia. Before leaving on its March to the Sea, the Union Army systematically destroyed strategic assets in Atlanta and the depot succumbed to large quantities of dynamite. Concluding his series of images in Atlanta, Barnard’s last photograph of Vincent’s depot shows the one-time city icon as a pile of rubble. Only five days shy of the eighth anniversary of Vincent’s death, his most substantial creation met its own untimely demise.20
The destruction of his depot did not result in the complete erasure of Vincent’s work from history. The structure plays a recurring role in Margaret Mitchell’s 1936 Gone With the Wind, with a number of scenes set at or near the structure. Two years later— and almost seventy-five years after federal troops left Atlanta—crews constructed a life-size replica on a production lot in Culver City, CA, in preparation for the movie adaptation of Mitchell’s book. Drawn from George Barnard’s photographs of the depot, the reproduction bore a striking resemblance to its subject. The replica omitted two important characteristics of the original design, likely due to budgetary constraints and an economy of space on the lot: the arched roof became pitched, and the width was reduced by a third. Neither the book nor movie directly address the depot’s demolition.21
Vincent’s architectural legacy continues today, albeit in a somewhat dubious fashion. In 1987 Stone Mountain Park needed a more substantial train station to accommodate increasing visitor traffic on its five-mile rail excursion around the mountain. The park’s general manager looked to Atlanta history for design inspiration and, after consulting with city historian Franklin Garrett, settled on the city’s first major passenger structure as his guide. Vincent’s car shed became the model for the new train station. Although called “almost an exact reproduction of Atlanta’s station” by the Atlanta Journal, a much-simplified amusement-park version emerged.22 At approximately three-fifths scale, the Stone Mountain station—a shadow of Vincent’s once-great work—lacks the architectural styling and detail that adorned Atlanta’s first depot.
Provable facts about Vincent span less than five years, yet contemporary records reveal much about the professional efforts of an antebellum immigrant in the South. Following delivery of final proofs of his Savannah map to the printer in August 1852, Vincent saw a rapid rise in his career; he designed a major railroad depot and drafted maps of Atlanta and Macon in quick succession in 1853. Almost immediately upon expanding into Augusta in October 1853, Vincent’s fortunes began to turn; he never recovered from multiple professional setbacks through 1854. While documentation of his life primarily concerns his public actions, Vincent’s estate reveals the human being behind the name, showing a man concerned with worldly and eternal affairs. Following his death, the demolition of his depot, and the surge in detailed maps of Georgia’s cities following the Civil War, Vincent’s name largely fell from memory, surviving in brief accounts by local historians. While historical events quickly overwhelmed his legacy, the name Edward Arista Vincent belongs among those professionals who sought to make a life in the South and leave a mark on the region.
Mr. Graham is a genealogist at ProGenealogists, a division of Ancestry.com, and resides in Salt Lake City, Utah.
The author would like to thank the following individuals for their insights and research assistance: Glenda E. A. Anderson and Luciana M. Spracher, Research Library and Municipal Archives, Savannah; Farris Cadle; Deborah E. Harvey; Erick D. Montgomery, Historic Augusta; Kenneth H. Thomas Jr.; Robert S. Davis Jr.; and Gordon B. Smith.
1. Macon Georgia Telegraph, October 4, 1853; Savannah Daily Morning News, November 24, 1856; “Aliens Declarations, 1840-52,” 345, Chatham County Superior Court, Savannah, GA, microfilm, drawer 32, box 55, Georgia Archives, Morrow, GA; Paul M. Pressly, “The Northern Roots of Savannah’s Antebellum Elite, 1780s-1850s,” Georgia Historical Quarterly 87 (Summer 2003): 157-99. Extensive search and analysis of United Kingdom census and parish records revealed no individuals named Edward Vincent matching the age and emigration date of this article’s subject. No one with the surname Arista appears on United Kingdom census records until 1891. Vincent’s inspiration may have been Mexico’s General Mariano Arista.↩
2. Savannah Daily Morning News, February 16 August 27, 1852. Snyder and Black began business as a partnership of George Snyder and James Black in 1844 and survived well into the twentieth century, when it printed advertisements for Coca-Cola and others designed by Theodore Geisel (Dr. Seuss). Charles D. Cohen, The Seuss, The Whole Seuss, and Nothing but the Seuss: A Visual Biography of Theodore Seuss Geisel (New York, 2004), 150. ↩
3. Edward A. Vincent, Vincent’s Subdivision Map of the City of Savannah, map (New York, 1853), from Cartographic and Architectural Division, National Archives, College Park, MD. Another copy is located in Duke University’s Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Library, Durham, NC. The 1852 printer’s proof, formerly part of the DeRenne Library Collection, is now maintained by the Hargrett Rare Book and Manuscript Library, University of Georgia, Athens, GA. An original lithograph was in the possession of attorney Thomas Porcher Ravenel of Savannah in 1912, but this author has not yet determined its fate. Catalogue of the Wymberley Jones DeRenne Georgia Library, vol. III (Wormsloe, GA, 1931), 1234.↩
4. Savannah Daily Morning News, March 24, 25, 30, April 8, 1853.↩
5. Savannah Daily Morning News, November 22, 1852; Milledgeville Southern Recorder, January 11, May 3, 1853; Edward A. Vincent entry, Capital Construction Ledger, April 1852 – January 1854, Auditor, Western and Atlantic Railroad, RG 18-5-6, Georgia Archives.↩
6. E. A. Vincent, Western and Atlantic Railroad, Proposed Passenger Depot, Atlanta, architectural drawing, Atlanta History Center, Atlanta, GA; Wilber W. Caldwell, The Courthouse and the Depot: The Architecture of Hope in an Age of Despair: A Narrative Guide to Railroad Expansion and its Impact on Public Architecture in Georgia, 1833-1910 (Macon GA, 2001), 111, 158; George N. Barnard, photographer, “[Charleston, S.C. Ruins of the North Eastern Railroad depot],” photograph, 1865, in Hirst D. Milhollen and Donald H. Mugridge, comps., Civil War Photographs, 1861-1865 (Washington, DC, 1977), no. 0656; Central of Georgia Railroad, Passenger Station & Train Shed, Savannah, GA, Survey GA-2167, Historic American Buildings Survey, Library of Congress. ↩
7. Atlanta City Council Minutes, February 2, 16, 1853, Atlanta History Center; Savannah Daily Mrning News, September 1, 1853; Atlanta City Council Minutes, November 18, 1853, Atlanta History Center. ↩
8. Edward A. Vincent, Vincent’s Subdivision Map of the City of Atlanta, map (Savannah, 1853), from Geography and Maps Division, Library of Congress. The Library of Congress and Georgia Archives each maintain original copies of this map. ↩
9. Augusta Daily Chronicle and Sentinel, August 23, 1853; Macon City Council Minutes, August 26, September 23, October 21, 28, 1853, microfilm, drawer 214, box 53, Georgia Archives; Macon Georgia Telegraph, October 4, 1853 – January 3, 1854; Grand Lodge of Georgia, Annual Communication for the Year 5854 or 1854, 62. ↩
10. Augusta Daily Chronicle and Sentinel, November 17, 26, December 1, 1853; February 4, 1854. Augusta City Council Minutes, located at the mayor’s office, make no mention of Vincent, DeRangow, or Brown. ↩
11. Augusta Daily Chronicle and Sentinel, January 15, 1854; Undated architectural drawing copied from unidentified private collection, Charles DeRangow, Architects Files, Historic Preservation Division, Georgia Department of Natural Resources, Atlanta, GA; Georgia, Vol. 1b [Augusta], p. 290, R. G. Dun & Co. Collection, Baker Library Historical Collections, Harvard Business School, Boston, MA. No record of E. A. Vincent appears in Dun Collection volumes for Augusta, Bibb Co. (Macon), Chatham Co. (Savannah), DeKalb Co. (Atlanta to 1853), or Fulton Co. (Atlanta from 1854). ↩
12. New Hampshire Genealogical Society, The New Hampshire Genealogical Record: An Illustrated Quarterly Magazine 3 (July 1905-April 1906): 128; United States Census Bureau, Eighth Census of the United States: Population Schedules, Augusta, Georgia, 1860, Ward One, Family 137, E. W. Brown, (Washington, DC, 1860), 722; Jonathan H. Poston, The Buildings of Charleston: A Guide to the City’s Architecture (Columbia, SC, 1997), 571; Augusta Daily Chronicle and Sentinel, December 1, November 30, 1853; Augusta Chronicle, March 7, 1946, August 9, 1890. ↩
13. Macon City Council Minutes, February 10, April 22, June 16, September 15, 1854, microfilm, drawer 214, box 53, Georgia Archives. ↩
14. Edward A. Vincent, Vincent’s New Map of the City of Macon, map (1854), black and white reproduction, from Washington Memorial Library, Macon, GA. The original map appears to have been maintained by the Macon Engineering Department but could not be located for this article. ↩
15. Map of Appling and Ware Counties: Together with Portions of Clinch and Coffee Counties, Georgia, map (Macon, ), from MS 1361, Georgia Historical Society, Savannah, GA; Macon Georgia Telegraph, December 26, 1854; Map of Worth, Irwin, Lowndes, and portions of Thomas, Coffee and Clinton [sic] Counties, originally Irwin County, Georgia, map (Macon, ), from MS 1361, Georgia Historical Society; Bill of Sale, Estate of E. A. Vincent, estate no. 5993, Fulton County Probate Court, Atlanta, GA; Atlanta Daily Examiner, September 12, 1857. The author found no reference to the Union County map in a wide survey of cartographic collections. ↩
16. See the entry for “C.A. Vincent,” in Joseph L. Herndon, “Architects in Tennessee Until 1930: A Dictionary” (master’s thesis, Columbia University, 1975); An Act to establish an uniform rule of Naturalization (Stats. At Large of USA 2:153-55); An Act in further addition to “An act to establish an uniform rule of Naturalization” (Stats. at Large of USA 4:69); Atlanta City Council Minutes, February 23, March 2, 1855, Atlanta History Center. ↩
17. Record of payments related to Vincent’s final illness are found in a series of vouchers in his estate papers, no. 5993, Fulton County Probate Court, Atlanta, GA; “Interment Records, 1853-69,” 13, Oakland Cemetery Collection, MSS 618, Atlanta History Center; Savannah Daily Morning News, November 24, 1856. ↩
18. Estate of E. A. Vincent, no. 5993, Fulton County Probate Court, Atlanta. ↩
19. Atlanta, map, no. S45, Civil War Maps, Geography and Maps Division, Library of Congress Atlanta, Georgia, and its rebel defences [sic], map, Robert Knox Sneden Scrapbook, 409, MSS 5:7 Sn237:1, Virginia Historical Society, Richmond. ↩
20. George N. Barnard, photographer, “[Atlanta, GA. Railroad depot and yard; Trout House and Masonic Hall in background],” photograph, 1864, in Milhollen and Mugridge, Civil War Photographs, no. 0700; Barnard, “Atlanta, Georgia, Railroad yards,” photograph, 1864, from Civil War Glass Negative Collection, Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress. Also from Milhollen and Mugridge, Civil War Photographs, Barnard, “[Atlanta, Ga. Ruins of depot, blown up on Sherman’s departure],” photograph no. 0705. ↩
21. Herb Bridges, The Filming of Gone With the Wind (Macon, GA, 1984), 10, 130-43; “Gone With The Wind 1937,” Our World, episode no. 16, first aired February 19, 1987, on ABC; Behind-the-scenes photographs, Gone With The Wind Collection, Bison Archives, Los Angeles, CA. ↩
22. Sarah Cash, “Stone Mountain Park station styled after old Atlanta depot,” Atlanta Journal, April 2, 1987, DeKalb Extra. ↩