Page 60 - A Narrative of the History of Roanoke Virginia
P. 60

they are refilled and stand festering in the sun with the winds blowing their fetid
                  breath up and down the city.”


                  By summer, the paper argued, the streets of Roanoke were “in worse condition than
                  those of any city in the country.” The roads looked dreadful, threatened the health of
                  the municipality, and even endangered those walking downtown, since horses and
                  wagons speeding along them inevitably splashed “helpless pedestrians” on nearby
                  sidewalks with mud and stagnant water.

                  Even worse, residents in “thickly populated” areas continued to drain kitchen or bath
                  water and “slops” onto nearby roads, rendering streets in some parts of town little
                  more than cesspools.

                  Officials and the board of health did what they could, ordering the chain gang to fill
                  potholes and cover the streets with lime, but lacked the funds to make permanent
                  improvements. The situation grew worse in the winter of 1890, when nearly three feet
                  of snow from a blizzard began to melt. Overloaded coal wagons cut deep ruts in the
                  town’s flooded roads and eventually the situation grew so bad that residents placed
                  stakes around especially large mud holes to warn buggy drivers. “Most of the
                  streets,” The Times reported, “look more like liquid lakes of mud than thoroughfares
                  of a city.” Residents had “besieged” the city engineer with complaints, and all over
                  town, the paper explained, “ladies fill the air with railings against the street committee
                  and City Council.”

                  Other municipal problems came to a head as well; the new courthouse was far too
                  small and the new jail, which was literally falling apart, had been plagued by an utter
                  inability to contain prisoners.

                  Council took the blame for these problems too, and in February 1891, after weeks of
                  heated criticism, it approved seven bond issues totaling $360,000 to address the
                  city’s various needs. If endorsed by freeholders in early March, streets and sewers
                  would get a $300,000 upgrade, the Northeast would get a new firehouse, the city
                  would get a fire alarm system, the courthouse would get an addition, Roanoke would
                  have a new jail and its first official map, and public school students would get
                  additional space.


                  In the weeks leading up to vote, debate raged over the appropriateness of approving
                  the bonds. The town’s press endorsed all the issues, but many residents were far
                  less enthusiastic. The city’s African Americans, about 30 percent of the population,
                  opposed the courthouse addition, new fire station, and sewers on the grounds that
                  they were unnecessary or were improvements that benefited white neighborhoods
                  exclusively. Previous bond allocations, while providing a schoolhouse, had not gone
                  to Gainsborough. As a result, black ministers and political leaders organized mass
                  meetings to rally voters against further allocations unless council guaranteed them a
                  “proportionate share.”


                  Some city fathers ignored their request; others reacted with hostility. A Third Ward
                  councilman, for example, blasted the notion of blacks “combining” against the
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