Maysville Calaboose (Jail)
Maysville, Georgia

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 By Harold Martin (probably The Atlanta Journal circa 1951)

Comes word that the metropolitan center of Maysville, Ga., has built a new calaboose, and I for one am rejoicing at this news. If there was ever a town which needed a new calaboose, it is the city of Maysville.

The last time I was in the calaboose in Maysville was about 25 years ago, and I remember thinking at the time that one of the greatest improvements the city could make would be a new edifice of this kind. The old one was made of galvanized iron, and it sat just across the railroad tracks in an open space where there were no trees, so that the hot summer sun beating down made it hot enough to bake biscuits inside.

The day I spent in the Maysville calaboose was a Fourth of July in about the year 1926. The Commerce baseball team, traveling in strip-down T-model Fords, had gone up to Maysville to play baseball, and had soundly trounced Maysville by a score of something like 26 to 25. There had been some bitter altercations on the playing field, and there was a strong feeling on the part of Maysville that a supposedly nonpartisan umpire had favored the Commerce team on a close play. Feeling, as a result, ran high. Flushed with triumph and jubilant over their victory, the Commerce team then had gone roaring through town on their way home, blowing those old hand-pushed horns that went “ah-oogie,” “ah-oogie” in a raucous and insulting manner.

The Maysville city fathers had by this time taken their places under the iron awning over the sidewalks and were sitting there on nail kegs and split-bottomed chairs, whittling, chewing tobacco and cussing the umpire. The road was unpaved then, and deep with dust, and as the cavalcade came through, traveling at 25 miles an hour, or some such terrific speed, the dust billowed up in great clouds, getting in the eyebrows and the whiskers of the Maysville citizens and making them angry.

They, therefore, dispatched Town Marshall Rich Boswell in pursuit of the fleeing vandals, and Marshall Boswell did his duty nobly. He outran the Commerce delegation and took us all into custody, hustling us back to the metropolis, where he locked us in that galvanized iron jail. There we stayed throughout the hottest afternoon ever known in Georgia, until some kindly soul, relenting, got word to Commerce that its baseball team, after its great triumph, was in jail in Maysville charged with speeding and disturbing the peace. So the Commerce town fathers took up a collection and sent an emissary up to bail us all out. The fine, as I read, was $10 a head.

The old Maysville calaboose, I am sorry to report, was just as cold in wintertime as it was (hot) in summer. That Christmas, after brooding over the perfidious action of the Maysville citizens all fall, certain young blades from Commerce, on Christmas Eve, sneaked off up to Maysville and had roused the sleeping citizens by setting off a couple of sticks of dynamite in the center of town. The valiant Boswell was again on hand and some half dozen of us spent that glorious Yule in that same tin jail. There was no stove in it, and the thermometer was down about freezing on the outside and was at least 40-below inside. It was like spending a night in a deep freeze. We finally got out on Christmas morning. The fine was $10 a head again.

The new jail, I am positive, will be more comfortable than the old, and it is located in a more pleasant place. “This new jail,” my father writes, “is in an admirable location for a calaboose. They have put it about 30 feet from the front door of the Methodist Church, which makes it much handier and convenient for all concerned. If it becomes necessary for somebody in the church to be carried to the calaboose, the transfer can be carried out with a minimum of trouble and confusion. “On the other hand, if somebody in the calaboose feels in the need of spiritual guidance, all he has got to do is stick his head up to the barred window and listen to the preacher, or join in the singing of hymns. There used to be a livery stable once right close to a church that I attended, and every time the organ would sound the mules would start to bray. It was some of the finest music you ever heard.”

Mayor of Maysville invites Martin to try new calaboose

(date unknown, probably Atlanta Journal)

Maysville—Really enjoyed Harold Martin’s column about our brand-new calaboose. This new calaboose is neither steam heated nor air-conditioned, but we do believe it is a little more comfortable than the old one. The fines have gone up considerably since 1926. They are at present $25 and up, according to the offense. Since the town can always use an extra $25 or so, let me as mayor, cordially invite Mr. Martin up to try out our new calaboose. Just any time, winter or summer, we will be delighted to have him—and his $25. M. L. Harrison, Mayor, Metropolis of Maysville

 Page last updated 02/16/2008

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