The Courthouse

Public life in Murfreesboro centered around the town square. Dominating the Square was the Rutherford County Courthouse. Three stories tall with a cupola on top it still stands, one of the six remaining courthouses in Tennessee built before the Civil War. The cupola houses the four-sided clock which our next door neighbor, Mr. Coleman, kept in pristine running condition. (see story “The Night Mr. Coleman died”). Every year crowds would gather to watch as ropes and pulleys were put in place and Mr. Coleman emerged on the high, narrow, railing to manually move the hands of the clock.

Someone in the watching crowd always remarked about the time (before my birth) when a man calling himself “the Human Fly” appeared in Murfreesboro, attempted to climb the exterior wall of the courthouse and had fallen to his death. But Mr. Coleman performed his task faultlessly, descending to applause.

Later a bell was installed in the cupola during WWII and was used as an air raid alarm.

Like much of Murfreesboro, the courthouse had a history of Civil War episodes. The high Cupola was used as a watch tower to monitor signals and was occupied on different occasions by both sides. A frequently told story recalls how Confederate General, Nathan Bedford Forrest, stormed the courthouse to release imprisoned Murfreesboro civilian. Forrest’s men tore down the doors with axes and started fires in the hallways to smoke out the Union soldiers. Old timers recall hearing stories of how two Confederate regiments held a Christmas Ball in the courthouse on Christmas Eve, 1892. The entire building was decorated with greenery and candles and even a chandelier fashioned out of soldiers’ bayonets. Some local residents claim ancestors who attended this Ball where reportedly they danced until dawn. But after the Battle of Stones River, the Union Army again occupied the courthouse.

It was hard for me to connect these stories with the courthouse in my day. I remember it as a dreary place filled with dust covered records: court precedings, property deeds, etc. Outside old men were always sitting on benches, smoking, gossiping or playing checkers.

Some of the hitching posts remained but rather than servicing handsome soldiers on dashing steeds they were used by overall-clad farmers bringing produce to the square every Saturday.

Around 1924 the street around the square was widened and parades were held there. I particularly remember the yearly Blue Ribbon parades—a highlight of my elementary years. If you had received all your shots from the Health Unit, you got a big blue ribbon and a hat made of blue crepe paper and were allowed to march in the Blue Ribbon parade. You lined up with all your class and then joined all the other classes and marched in order all around the square while parents looked on and cheered. After a couple of times around everyone was dismissed and then—bedlam!

I remember being overwhelmed with the mass of people, big people and people I didn’t know. I was lost! And as I was never able to hold back tears, I was crying.

After what seemed a very long time I saw a policeman and told him my situation. He put me in his police car and I directed him to my home. I must not have been too lost as I could tell him exactly where to go. When I arrived the family had not missed me or even been distressed. They assumed I knew how to walk home.

I did the same thing the next year at the Blue Ribbon parade, quickly finding the policeman and getting a ride home. This time Mother said, “Don’t be silly, Judy. Don’t do that again.”

The thing my sister remembered about the Blue Ribbon parade was the year it rained and our blue crepe paper hats bled, leaving long streaks of blue down our faces.