Artisanal and acclaimed ice cream company Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams is expanding their reach in Atlanta to include a location at the Buckhead Marketplace anchored by Whole Foods Market just off of West Paces Ferry Road. Locals may have tried Jeni’s at one of their other Atlanta scoop shops at Westside Provisions, Krog Street Market, Decatur Square, and Avalon. The company also sells their pints of ice cream through their website by the pint and via subscription service, as well as many local Publix locations. Today the Columbus, Ohio-based business has set their sights on a fifth local scoop shop located in the Buckhead Village.
Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams is well known for their commitment to bold, unique flavors delivered via uniquely smooth texture without the use of synthetic flavorings, dyes, or mixes. The smell of handmade waffle cones is enough to entice even the most skeptical customer to jump in line and sample a few flavors that range from classics such as Milkiest Chocolate and Honey Vanilla all the way to more out-there flavors such as Sweet Cream Biscuits & Peach Jam, Brandied Banana Brûlée, and Brambleberry Crisp. They even carry a line of delicious dairy-free options for those who are lactose intolerant.
This summer Jeni’s will join retailers Bluemercury, a cosmetics retailer, and the Van Michael Salon at the Marketplace. Also new to the complex is Dallas-based Velvet Taco set to open in the old Northface location sometime in June of 2019. Jeni’s storefront will likely occupy around 1,000 square feet of the now open space and is expected to feature tall, exposed ceilings above textured wood elements with a signature waffle cone creation station on display for customers.
Anyone who knew my mother knew she liked to arrive early, especially if food was involved. If a restaurant offered a discount for the “Early Bird” special starting at 4:30 pm you could bet she would be in the parking lot at 4:20 tapping her toe and checking her watch. It was this protocol that caused my brother and I to be with her at 10:50 am one morning waiting for the doors at the Davis Brothers Cafeteria to open for lunch.
“Got to beat the crowds” was her mantra. “They might run out of tomato aspic.”
I grew up in Buckhead where cafeteria culture probably reached its refined zenith. My dad worked downtown for over 30 years and ate at the same cafeteria at least 3 times a week. On Sundays, with the final dirge of the Baptist organ still hanging in the air, we would rush to our car and speed to Lenox Square to “beat the crowds” to the S&W cafeteria.
I always ate the same thing. Country fried steak, green beans, mashed potatoes, corn bread, sweet tea. The tea had to be sweet, but not too sweet. The cornbread better not have any sugar in it at all. Moving down the line we would issue our reverent requests to the staff and watch as it was lovingly placed on the plate. Finally, at the end of the line, the plate would be passed over the counter to us.
This was a sacred moment, like receiving communion from the Pope. Even now, over 50 years later, when I see a sign along the interstate advertising a cafeteria I must fight the urge to immediately take the next exit and proceed as rapidly as possible to claim my place in line. After all, you have to beat the crowds. My family laughs at me whenever I suggest eating at a cafeteria and I play along as if it is a joke, but I am not joking. If I found myself on death row, and could order my last meal, you damn better know what it would be. And there better not be any sugar in the cornbread.
OK, so back to the parking lot at the Davis Brothers Cafeteria waiting for the doors to open. This was in the early 1960s and there had been some type of merger between the Davis Brothers and Kentucky Fried Chicken. I’m foggy on the details and it really doesn’t matter but rest assured there was some connection there. As the opening time grew closer a few other cars had pulled into the parking lot and my mom started getting antsy. Finally, at the stroke of 11, we could see through the glass doors an employee approaching to unlock the door. That was the sign mom was waiting for.
She bolted from the car shouting “Move out!”
My brother and I took advantage of her down field blocking to assure we would be first in line. A few elbows were thrown by other early birds, but mom really had no competition when it came to being first in line. First in line in a cafeteria, there is nothing else like it in this weary world. Mounds of steaming potatoes, macaroni and cheese, collard greens and other delights graced our view as far as the eye could see. It was a pristine setting. Nothing had yet been disturbed by the giant spoons and ladles that would soon be used to dip into the vats of wonder. All the staff behind the gleaming counter looked at us with quiet anticipation. It was a moment of holiness before the sacrament was offered to us on the heavy white plates of benediction.
It was then, in that brief instant between action and non-action, that mom whispered “look.”
He seemed 8-feet tall and appeared to be surrounded by a blue aura. I swear I heard Beethoven begin to play in the background. There was a certain lightness to his being and in a moment of grace he turned and smiled at me. I felt a gentle summer breeze flow over me even though we were indoors. I knew I was in the presence of greatness.
He stepped forward, looked directly at me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. It was then he uttered those immortal words I shall never forget. “Don’t eat any of that god-damned gravy, it tastes like wallpaper paste.”
I later learned that was his pet peeve. He hated what the corporations had done to his gravy. It was the first time I heard anyone speaking truth to power. For the rest of his days he railed against those who would pollute his vision. Thank you, Colonel, for showing up and standing up. Who says our generation didn’t have heroes? God bless Colonel Sanders and God bless the USA.
Jim Tate
Author, Buckhead Tales
jimtate@charter.net
For many who live in Buckhead the Shepherd Center is simply a blip on your morning commute. But for those who travel to this hospital from all around this country and the world to receive care there, it’s a literal life saver. Beyond physical care, medical procedures, prescriptions and physical therapy, the staff at the Shepherd Center are changing lives and giving back independence to injured people in new and revolutionary ways.
The facility specializes in spinal cord injuries and disease, brain injuries, multiple sclerosis, and other neuromuscular conditions. The hospital treats and rehabilitates patients with state-of-the-art assistive technologies, recreation therapy, locomotor training, and their Beyond Therapyⓒ program.
In 1973 Atlanta natives Harold and Alana Shepherd were struggling to gain adequate care for their son James who was seriously injured in a surfing accident in Brazil. The family rose to the occasion and got him the treatment he needed, consequently bringing together Atlanta’s medical and donor facilities to found the Center in 1975. Today, James serves as chairman of the board, Alana organizes fundraisers and is the recording secretary for the board, and Harold served on the Board of Directors until his passing last December. Recognized as a world-class facility, it has consistently ranked in the top ten rehabilitation centers in the nation by US News & World Report for the past ten years. The Shepherd Center is also one of 14 rehabilitation hospitals designated by the federal government as a “Model System” for care of people with spinal cord injuries.
Life-changing rehabilitation takes place here. Patients come to the facility on the worst days of their lives and gain a new lease on life during their stay. You see, the Shepherd Center not only addresses their patients’ physical needs, they also emphasize the importance of their overall mental and emotional well-being. The doctors, nurses, and staff here give their patients hope and friendship. They gain independence through interactive activities like physical fitness, community meals, group therapy, arts and crafts, and card games that support a sense of camaraderie at the center. Even those who work the reception desks have a way of greeting passers-by that infuses the atmosphere with warmth and a feeling of safety.
The Shepherd Center grounds include a chapel, garden, fitness center, basketball court, pool, physical therapy rooms, and an arts center complete with throwing wheel. Next to the center is an apartment building where non-local families of Shepherd Center’s patients can stay during their treatment. The facility sees more than 900 inpatients, 575 day program patients, and 7,100 outpatients each year.
The center also sponsors 11 sports teams for individuals with physical disabilities to enjoy competitive and recreational sports, and the Shepherds were the driving force behind Atlanta hosting the 1996 Paralympics Games. The torch from that event hangs proudly near the gym entrance and evidence of the Center’s success can be seen in the numerous news articles and artwork lining the walls. A dry erase board in the physical therapy room is dotted with encouraging words from past patients and custom painted ceiling tiles above offer wisdom and levity for all those who pass through the facility.
A Day At Shepherd
On a recent Wednesday I was invited to shadow Dr. Anna Choo Elmers, M.D., J.D., a staff physiatrist in the Spinal Cord Injury Program at the Shepherd Center. She first worked at the Center as a resident in 2006, officially joining the staff in 2009.
Though Dr. Elmers is a natural fit for the Center and for healthcare in general, it wasn’t her first career. “I actually went to law school first and practiced for a couple of years, and it just really was not fulfilling for me,” she said. Later she went back to school at the George Washington University School of Medicine to get her medical degree and completed her residency at Emory. When she discovered the Shepherd Center she instantly felt that there was something special there.
Today, Dr. Elmers has an office desk drawer full to the brim with thank you cards and notes from past patients. “When they come here they get a new family, it’s just a different family,” she said. It’s not uncommon for her to get family updates and invitations to celebrations such as graduations and weddings.
Longevity is very common amongst Shepherd Center faculty. “The nurses who are here are here for a long time,” explained Dr. Elmers, who noted that the Shepherd family’s continued involvement, most notably Alana’s, encourages an atmosphere of loyalty. “It speaks volumes of the facility itself and then the culture that they are able to foster and continue.”
The Chief Nursing Executive, for example, started there in her early 20s as a tech and now 40 years later is the CNE. Their current CEO has also worked there for decades, and a counselor has been there for 30 years.
“I think a lot of that is the people who gravitate towards this kind of work get a lot of satisfaction from it. I have the most phenomenal therapists, nurses, just a really neat group of people that I work with. It makes the work overall very enjoyable. It’s not always rainbows, though,” Dr. Elmers said with a laugh. ”Your highs far surpass your lows. In a nutshell that’s kind of it.”
Dr. Elmers specializes in working with adolescents that have suffered brain or spinal cord injuries. “Truth be told I don’t know if I could do what the patients here do day in and day out. It’s just such a- it’s a definite example of the resilience of the human spirit. It’s so resilient.”
She led me around the facility as she checked in with different patients, seeing how their pain was doing, inquiring about the results of their procedures, and reminding everyone about the group dinner that evening.
Several of Dr. Elmers patients were resting in their rooms while others were hard at work in the physical therapy room. The whirr from a row of stationary bikes filled the air. At a nearby table, a patient practiced sitting and standing with the help of a physical therapist and a support brace.
Ryer Moore shared that his stay at the Center has been better than he expected and that Dr. Elmers has been an ‘outstanding’ doctor. “When I first saw her in the brochure I thought she’d be like any other doctor. Just, like, give me my medicine and then I won’t see her again, but I see her every day,” he said.
Dr. Elmers not only does daily rounds to check on her patients, she also sometimes touches base via text message, and she has seen great benefits of the weekly dinner club.
Every Wednesday, Dr. Elmers coordinates to have a full meal dropped off by volunteers in the gym and her patients get a rare chance to come down and socialize with one another, sharing their stories and making friends. Sitting around the long table with their loved ones, these dinners offer a unique sense of belonging and community for patients whose recoveries can often feel rather lonely.
“Coming here is like coming to summer camp. When you’re the new kid on the block you are so uneasy with who else is here so you come and don’t know anyone, then you go down to the gym and everyone else knows each other, so the dinner parties break that up,” said Dr. Elmers.
“You can definitely tell that the employees want to work here, that it’s not some 9 to 5 job where they come in and do their work and then just leave,” said Nicolas Woodard about the staff at the Center. “They definitely put in the extra mile and even staying after hours to not only just do the job but also build a relationship with their patients and people throughout the facility.” Nicolas particularly enjoyed late night Uno games with other patients and sometimes even nurses who would stop by after their shifts for a couple of rounds.
Previously unfamiliar with the Shepherd Center, Nicolas and his father Morgan have been pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere and treatment they have received at the Center. “What everyone kept telling us was ‘miracles happen there.’ I mean that was the one word everybody kept telling us,” said Morgan. Nicolas has since been transferred to a hospital in Seattle for further treatment.
In particularly trying times, when life has been forever altered by a devastating disease or injury, it is scary to undergo treatment and imagine a life after the hospital. The Shepherd Center and doctors like Dr. Elmers look at each patient as an individual person, and their treatments are carefully curated to suit their needs. Beyond physical needs of patients at the facility, programs such as Dr. Elmers’ weekly dinner club and late night game nights make recovery feel a bit more normal, and the future a bit less scary.
“It doesn’t feel like a rehabilitation center, it feels like a family up here,” said Ryer with a smile. “It really does.”
Updated July 8, 2019: The header image with overlay of the affected property has been adjusted to reflect that the affected property is only 2520 Peachtree Road and not any neighboring buildings. The building pictured above with the red roof located at 2544 Peachtree Road is not for sale. We apologize for any confusion.
It has been years of uncertainty for a 1.8 acre lot at 2520 Peachtree Road near Lindbergh Drive. For several years JPX Works, an Atlanta based development company, had planned to deliver a 21-story, 41-unit “ultra-luxury” condominium building called Emerson at the site formerly occupied by a midcentury low-rise. The Emerson broke ground in 2017 and was slated for completion this year until it stalled in mid-2018.
The impressive design of the building made it more expensive than buyers were willing to commit to and JPX was unable to hit required pre-sale numbers. The market pushed back on the above $1000 per square foot price point, while it has embraced the roughly $800 per foot at the competing Charles condo tower just up the street.
Now, after months of negotiations, the site has been officially purchased by a Kolter Group affiliate for $13.5 million. According to public records, JPX assembled the parcel in 2015 by paying out a total of $9.4 million to 50 individual owners.
Kolter Group LLC is a West Palm Beach-based development company with 23 condominium developments in Florida and two in Canada. There is not much information available about Kolter’s plans for the site with only a generic Atlanta skyline photograph and the words Coming Soon appearing on a landing page.
Judging by other Kolter developments in Florida, we can expect a high-end, fairly modern condo tower with an edgy design to be announced soon.
Jay Gould, president and CEO of worldwide flooring company Interface and sustainability leader, has been announced as the Board Chair for the Park Over GA400 nonprofit. A resident of Buckhead, Gould sees great value in establishing greenspaces that bring communities together.
With his guidance Interface recently designed the company’s headquarters in Midtown, and the building now uses 48% less energy than required by code and houses a 15,000 gallon reservoir tank for flush fixtures. Even the very materials of the building’s exterior were chosen for their ability to repel heat, and the organization aims for Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) v4 Platinum certification and WELL Gold Certification. Recently he launched the Climate Take Back effort to reverse global warming and advance the company’s sustainability efforts.
“Jay will make a remarkable board chair because he comes from an organization that proclaimed businesses are responsible for sustainability. He also understands and values the importance of building a community that is accessible and connected,” said Jim Durrett, executive director of the Buckhead CID. As Board Chair, Gould will help to lead the project in sustainable planning, funding, and development.
The park over GA400 is conceptualized to be an open and accessible greenspace that will provide a natural outlet as well as facilitate a sense of community with those who frequent it. The project has been in the works for several years now, and the BCID is hopeful that with Gould at the helm it will continue to evolve and develop into a viable natural respite amidst an increasingly dense urban setting for Buckhead residents.
Surveys for the Park Over GA400 is scheduled to be complete by summer 2019, and preliminary engineering will commence after surveying is complete. As of June 2018 the estimated total cost for the Park Over GA400 plan and renovation of the Buckhead MARTA station is around $250 million, so we expect to see more fundraising efforts in the coming months.
Concerns about street name confusion causing delays for emergency response to locations in Chastain Park has led to a proposed name change of West Wieuca Road, the thoroughfare that cuts through Chastain Park. On May 6, the Atlanta City Council voted to rename the road, likely to Chastain Park Avenue NW.
The office of City Councilmember J.P. Matzigkeit reported that there were at least 3 instances of misdirected emergency services to the Chastain Park pool in 2018, as responders mixed up the similarly named West Wieuca Road NW with West Wieuca Road NE.
The affected stretch runs from Lake Forrest Drive and Powers Ferry Road, shown in red in the above Google Map. This proposed name change would affect the Galloway School and the Chastain Park Arts Center, both of which are located along this strip. The measure is currently awaiting action by Atlanta Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms.
Growing up I thought every neighborhood had one. A ‘Candy Man.’
Back in the 1950s on Wieuca Terrace in Buckhead you bet we had one. I sing the praises of Mr. Daley, Candy Man supreme. He lived down the street in a little white house with his sister and seemed old, but I was 8 and anyone over 40 seemed ancient. His yard, unlike the rest of the pristine lawns on our street, was unkempt. He was the only neighbor that would let us play football in his front yard, everyone else would scream out their windows for us to “get off the grass.”
Our Candy Man was a touch on the eccentric side. In the seven years I lived on his street I only saw him wear one ensemble. He had a sparkling white terry cloth bathrobe he wore as proudly as if it were a royal cape. I can’t remember if there was anything under that robe. On summer mornings he would stand on his tiny back porch and belt out opera tunes. His arias would start out quietly until his tonsils warmed up and then after about 30 minutes he would build to a crescendo that shook the English ivy on the trees.
OK, let’s get back to the candy. The process was simple: go to the front door and ring the bell. That was it. The Magnificent One would come to the door, look to see if the supplicant was of the proper age, then turn and say, “Well, let me see if I have a little something for you.” He didn’t fool around by handing us little mints or candy corn. No, our man delivered a full-size Snickers or Baby Ruth to outstretched and clamoring paws. A quick thank you and then we were back playing football. My gang and I probably hit him up at least 3 times a week. On special occasions we would be graced with possible the greatest gift of all when he would retreat to his freezer and return with childhood’s holy grail – frozen Reese’s peanut butter cups.
One time on Halloween my brother had the flu and could not assault our neighbors with the usual trick or treat demands. He was so morose that my father asked him what would make him feel better.
“Take me to the Candy Man” was his only plea.
My father bundled him up and carried him down to Mr. Daley’s. When they returned Steve was clutching a full half gallon of Foremost fudge ripple ice cream. He ate it in one sitting and hasn’t had the flu since.
Nowadays everybody fears everything and everyone. Even those institutions who should be the most trusted have betrayed us. You know who I’m talking about. Today if some guy started handing out candy to kids you bet the phone would be ringing off the hook down at the police station. Maybe it should.
Our parents didn’t seem to be alarmed by our Candy Man. Maybe they should have worried and I guess we were lucky that our man had no other motive other than he liked kids playing in his yard. For us it was a simpler time when a neighbor could randomly hand out treats without it being a big deal. My wife tells me they had two Candy Ladies in her childhood neighborhood. I hope you had a Candy Person. My kids have never known a Candy Man or Lady. They are all gone, gone away. They have gone the way of the dodo birds.
Jim Tate
Author, Buckhead Tales
jimtate@charter.net
As a child I always hated shopping for clothes. I still do. Back in the late 1950s and throughout the 60s I was an unwilling participant in many grueling expeditions as my mom would take me shopping for clothes. This typically occurred in August of every year with the sudden announcement of “Time to buy clothes for the new school year.” I never understood why it was necessary to start off a new year at Sarah Smith Elementary or Dykes High with a new ensemble, but I guess it made it sense to mom. She called them “outfits” and usually that meant I was to be dragged all over Buckhead searching for new shirts, pants, underwear, socks and shoes.
At first mom liked to take me to Buckhead Men’s Shop & Boy’s Wear to be outfitted in new fall fashions but after Lenox Square opened in 1959 the hunt moved there. She worked part-time in the drapery department at Rich’s and got some type of employee discount. If memory serves me well that became the primary source for my clothes until I reached my teen rebel status and refused to wear any new clothes. Mom gave up at that point but in the early years she guided me with a strong hand in the pursuit of what we called “new duds.”
My dad never went along on these frightful adventures, but you can bet he provided his own type of special counsel. His input consisted solely on the types of shoes I needed. He insisted that I must possess “sensible” shoes with “good arch support.” He was very concerned about my arches being supported.
Of course, the shoes had to be tightly laced and as soon as they were purchased they would be taken to a shoe repair shop on Pharr Road in Buckhead for the addition of heavy metal taps to keep the heels from wearing down. Those shoes could probably have lasted a good 20 or 30 years if I wasn’t outgrowing them every year. I bet there is a crate in a basement or attic somewhere near Chastain Park full of my old indestructible footwear.
There was only one place I was taken for the annual shoe fitting and that was to the Thomas Boland Lee store in “downtown” Buckhead. We loved to go there because they had one of those X-Ray contraptions that allowed you to bombard your feet with massive amounts of radiation. You could look through a slot and see your foot bones glowing like the aurora borealis. They called the device the Foot-O-Scope. I guess it was some ruse to pretend they were using science to guarantee a good fitting but for us it was pure fun. We crammed every possible body part that would fit into that thing and held down the red button until some clerk started yelling at us.
There is no telling how much radiation our little bodies were exposed to. I guess the employees got a pretty good dose too. Later, they outlawed these dangerous contraptions. I guess they didn’t like us kids having fun, just like when they took away the truck that sprayed DDT up and down Wieuca Terrace in the summertime. We used to follow that truck on our bikes and zig-zag through the white cloud, but that is a tale for another day.
By 8th grade I was in high school and had begun to develop my own pathetic sense of fashion. One of my buddies, Marvin Jackson, had dropped a major hint on me when he whispered, “the socks must match the shirt.” For the rest of the school year when I wore a yellow shirt I donned yellow socks. Red socks meant a red shirt. You get the picture. When I would pass Marvin in the hall he would look me up and down before bestowing a silent nod of approval.
Some of my buddies were very stylish. Blair Bartlett and Mark Berglund led the pack in that regard. I couldn’t hold a candle to them with their madras shirts, Bass Weejuns, and crew socks. Hell, they even wore cologne.
I hated shopping for clothes with mom. I had no interest in going into the little booths and trying on the clothes and then modeling for her. If there was a sales agent nearby they would usually say that I looked “right sharp.”
It was torture and I can only imagine the experience was not exactly a holiday for mom.
As the years went by she gave up and would just bring home giant stacks of clothes for me to try on in the comfort and privacy of my bedroom. By 10th or 11th grade there was no more shopping with mom. I had a uniform that rarely varied. Blue jeans, desert boots, short sleeve shirt. The pants had to be Levi’s, the shoes were Clark, and the shirt was Lacoste with the logo torn off. If I was going out on one or two of the dates I had in high school I might be tempted to slip on a pair of corduroy bell bottoms just to add a little style to my swagger.
Today I’m still not too much of a fashion leader. Now it’s my wife, not my mom, that bares the torture whenever it becomes necessary to shop for clothes. We went to a mall a few weeks back looking for pants and shirts because in some mysterious fashion all my current clothes seemed to be shrinking. About 20 minutes into the saga I felt a panic attack coming on and had to flee to the safety of the parking lot.
I probably need to do some of that psychodrama therapy that helps reverse self-defeating behaviors. Maybe I’ll try to recreate those original Buckhead clothing and shoe stores and ease my way into them under the careful and watchful eye of 2 or 3 therapists. I could practice mindfulness while someone is scorching my feet with the Foot-O-Scope and do a little Pilates while being barricaded inside a tiny changing room. Yeah, that might just do it. Twice a week for maybe 10 years and shopping might become a blissful experience.
My mom has gone to her Great Reward in the Sky, so it is too late to apologize to her for the torment I showered on her when she was just trying to make me look presentable. If I could go shopping with her one more time at Lenox Square I promise I would be good. I would go into as many stores as she wanted. I’d even try on khaki pants and sensible shoes. I wouldn’t rush, tap my toe or roll my eyes. I’d just enjoy being with mom on a long lazy afternoon and laughing at her sense of humor. The Old Masters said that haste is of the Devil, and I tend to agree. Just let me have one more shopping trip with her and I’d patiently try on everything without complaint and even ask with enthusiasm, “Mom, how does this look?”
Jim Tate
Author, Buckhead Tales
jimtate@charter.net
The spirit of Buckhead heads forward. This is the way it has been, and perhaps this is the way it will always be. The spirit of Buckhead points forward. You see it in the way we work, and you see it in the way we play. The reach is always extending further. The search is for excellence and beauty and grace and vibrancy.
We are a community of individuals. We are diverse, we are dynamic, and we are discerning. We are builders. We are connected to one another with a common bond. A common dream. A common quest. Pointing life in one direction. Forward.
