BANK OF SMYRNA

By Mark Reed

This memoir about the Bank of Smyrna in my hometown of Smyrna, Georgia, is by no means a full history. It is my memory of the bank and the stories of the bank in its various incarnations as told to me by my father and others.

The original Bank of Smyrna, if it was indeed the original, was founded circa 1900. Attached is a photo reputed to be the Bank of Smyrna in 1911. It was located in downtown Smyrna on Atlanta Road on the corner of Ireland Street (later to become Bank Street). Old Smyrna folks will remember the police station located on that corner in the 40’s and 50’s.

My dad, Bill Reed, told me the story about the bank from his childhood in 1929, when he was an eight-year old boy. In those times, the Reed family was one of the more affluent families in Smyrna. Dad was the youngest of eight kids. They all had bank accounts at the Bank of Smyrna. When the banks crashed in 1929 and later, which coincided with the start of the Great Depression when the Stock Market took a nosedive, many people lost a great deal of wealth. My family included.

Back to dad’s story. The word was given to my grandfather, B.F. Reed, Sr., my Big Papa, by the bank president that the bank was going to close. Everyone rushed to the bank to get their money out. Dad, being eight-years old was forbidden to leave the yard alone without adult supervision. He stood in the front yard crying as he watched all his older brothers and sisters rush off to the bank to withdraw their money. Dad lost every penny he had, which may not seem like such a big thing in the grand scope of things, but for an eight-year old, it was a big deal. It had a big impact on him and he vowed to never lose everything again. He didn’t.

I believe that was the end of the then Bank of Smyrna. Years later, dad’s brother, B.F. Reed, Jr., was a driving force to start a new Bank of Smyrna in the 1940’s. The story goes that B.F. drove around in his old sedan with a 2×4 propped up and wedged from the back seat to the back of the drivers seat, which held his 300 pound frame. His glove box was stuffed with cash from all the local investors, which would bankroll the bank. He became V.P. of the Bank of Smyrna.

My first memory of the bank was it being directly across the street from my dad’s Reed Realty office on Atlanta Road. Attached is a photo of my mom holding the hand of my sister Cynthia, coming in the door of Reed Realty with the Bank of Smyrna in the background across the street, in 1955.

Naturally, all the Reed kids had their own bank accounts. My savings account was paltry, but it was mine. I remember in the 60’s going into the new location down the street across from Old Smyrna Cemetery on Atlanta Road and making a deposit of a dollar or two. My main memory of that time was the friendly bank teller, Mrs. Lovinggood, the mother of my long time girlfriend, Gail Lovinggood (too bad Gail didn’t know she held that position in my life). The other person I knew well was Harry Holliday, the President of the Bank of Smyrna. Harry and my dad were good friends, and he always had a kind word for me whenever he saw me enter the bank. I remember a time when I had great need of money for a major purchase in my life, and I withdrew all my money and closed my savings account there. I have absolutely no memory what this major purchase was, but I’m sure it was something I could not live without.

Fast forward to beyond my graduating from college at UGA and being drafted into the Army in 1969. When I got my discharge in 1971, I returned home to find that my trusty old 1965 GTO was no longer there waiting for me. That is another story for another time. Suffice it to say, here I was, a veteran, no job and no car to get a job with. I was not going to ask dad to help me in this regard. I found a 1967 Cutlass Supreme convertible for sale for $2,000.00. I did not have $2,000.00. So I went to the Bank of Smyrna, which I had not been in for years, and asked to see a loan officer to borrow the money.

The particular banker I was directed to knew me, knew my dad and knew my family. He told me he could not give me a loan unless I got my dad to co-sign for me. I informed him I was unwilling to do that. He said he was sorry, but if no co-sign, no loan. I got up and angrily walked directly to Harry Holliday’s office. Remember, Harry was President of the Bank of Smyrna. His secretary greeted me at the entrance to his office and told me that I would need an appointment to see him. To her chagrin, I walked past her and into Harry’s office. He looked up from his desk with a surprised look on his face and said, “Well, hello Mark. I heard you were out of the Army. What can I do for you?” He shooed his secretary out and she closed the door.

To the best of my memory, these are the words I said to Harry: “Harry, you have known me all my life. You know my family well. In fact, as you well know, my uncle Raymond is one of the largest stockholders of the bank. I am a college graduate and a veteran, having just been discharged from the army. I don’t have a car, which I need to be able to get a job and go to work, which as you may surmise will be in the real estate business. The Bank of Smyrna is my bank. I intend to do business with you in the years to come. I came in the bank to get a $2,000.00 loan to buy a car to get started. You know I am good for it. Your loan officer out there told me he would not give me a loan without my dad cosigning for me. Harry, I am a grown damn man and I am not going to ask my daddy to co-sign for me. Will you give me the $2,000.00 or not?”

Harry blinked at me with his mouth open, and I guess I half expected to be thrown out of his office. Instead, Harry said, “Yes, Mark.” Harry was my man from then on. And later on, so was Jack Miles.

This photo, supplied by my erstwhile girlfriend, Gail Lovinggood Foster, is of her mom Lucille with Harry Holliday at her retirement in 1981.

The Bank of Smyrna is gone now, having been gobbled up by bigger banks like many of the small hometown banks. But it will always be my bank.