By Henry Bryant
I first came in contact with Louis Arnold years ago when he got my phone number from the pages of this newspaper and called. Over the years, he made numerous calls to me with information for articles, leads for a new story, or even photos of places in our neighborhood that have become historic.
He was born on October 24, 1930, at the then, relatively new, Georgia Baptist Hospital on Boulevard at East Avenue. At just six months old, Louis moved with his family into the house they had purchased on Essie Avenue across from Anne E. West School, which he and his three brothers attended. He was the third of the four boys. For years he was a poll worker at the Anne E. West voting precinct during the election season. He literally was born into the neighborhood and never left.
Arnold was ill for the last few years, but even with setbacks in his recovery, he remained curious, spunky, and positive, giving his all to physical therapy and getting better so that he could remain independent and continue living in the neighborhood. He also remained keenly interested in what was going on in the Porch Press neighborhoods. Eventually, on December 2 of last year, he succumbed to his illness, passing peacefully at the home on Essie Avenue. He had organized all his affairs before that and was buried next to his parents in a graveside service at Westview Cemetery on December 9, 2023.
Arnold became invaluable while I was writing my picture history book about East Atlanta as part of the In the Images of America series since he had lived and witnessed most of that history as a keen and impartial observer. At an early age he had a summer job with his brother at the snack concession stand in Grant Park. He supplied photos to The Porch Press of Lake Abana with its 6-acre lake, boathouse, paddleboats, walking trail, tennis courts, and swimming pool. The lake was formed from a natural spring that flowed into a natural bowl or glen near the zoo. More recently concerts have been held in that area.
Arnold first attended Tech High which, along with Boys’ High School, occupied the campus that eventually became Grady High School, and now Midtown High School. He graduated from Roosevelt High after it was opened in the old Girls’ High facility in Grant Park (above today’s Maynard Jackson High School). He was drafted into the U. S. Army, trained at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, and soon after served at Fort McPherson as a personnel clerk. He then returned to his parents’ home on Essie Avenue and attended Georgia State University.
Arnold started a career in real estate, establishing himself with Little Realty on Moreland Avenue. He bought, renovated, sold, and rented houses. In a written account of that period, he noted that he was not a “slumlord,” forming a partnership with an older agent and taking care to renovate the homes they owned to a condition that he would want to own and occupy himself. Many of his customers and clients also became his neighbors and lifelong friends in those homes.
As a child, his family joined Ormewood Park Presbyterian Church and he continued to worship there until fairly recently. Early after high school, he joined EA (East Atlanta) Minor Lodge in their new building on Moreland Avenue, a building now being restored and repurposed for mixed-use development on the corner with Glenwood Avenue. He also joined the Yaarab Shrine on Ponce de Leon Avenue. At home, he loved to play his big old Wurlitzer organ and socialized with the Organ Club at Cooper Music on I-85.
Arnold never married. He liked to flirt and usually had a steady girlfriend. Early on he talked about going with dates to the movies in East Atlanta at the Madison. He lamented in his final notes that he never found the right girl, the one that he would marry. He leaves behind his brothers’ families.
Arnold wrote in his notes for his funeral that he loved to eat, especially when it was good food with good friends. He loved going out to dine with friends whether it was at the Varsity or at various meat and three restaurants over the years. He also enjoyed socializing with his friends. He and I shared more than one lunch together that way. He loved his neighbors who cared for him too, often bringing meals when he was sick or inviting him over to share food at holiday times. His annual birthday parties sponsored by his neighbors were renowned. One well remembered party had a tropical theme complete with hula dancers in grass skirts. During the pandemic, to keep the at-risk Louis and his older friends safe, the party became a drive-by affair. The last party was at his house after the final gathering at Westside Cemetery.
I will miss Louis and his earnest neighborliness and sociability. I feel fortunate to have known him and to have benefitted from his insight and knowledge. Farewell, fine friend.
