Clearpool – Memphis Flyer

Tourists visiting Memphis in 1940 probably picked up this brochure at local hotels, or maybe it was mailed to them by the Chamber of Commerce. It’s a handy guide to the main attractions in and around our city.

Some of today’s top draws aren’t listed of course, such as Graceland or The Dixon Gallery and Gardens or FedExForum.

But many of the “old classics” are there, including the Memphis Zoo, the Mississippi River, various parks, and other sights-to-see.

What’s interesting, at least to me though, are all the things listed in this 70-year-old brochure that have vanished. Among them: the Municipal Auditorium (“built at a cost of $2,000,000”) , the Cossitt Library, the Goodwyn Institute Library, Sienna College (when it was still on Vance), and the Fairgrounds Casino Ballroom (“dancing in season three nights a week”).

Then there’s the whole paragraph on downtown movie theaters: “There are 30 theaters in Memphis with a total seating capacity of 43,959. Modern community theaters with the very latest equipment may be found in the suburban communities of the city. A list of the downtown theaters”:
• Loew’s State (152 South Main)
• Orpheum Theater (197 South Main)
• Malco Palace Theater (81 Union Avenue)
• Strand Theater (138 South Main)
• Warner Theater (52 South Main).

Did you notice those names? The present-day Orpheum was called the Orpheum before it became the Malco. Boy, is that confusing! And, if this brochure is correct, Loew’s Palace (currently the site of Parking Can Be Fun) was originally called the Malco Palace.

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The Fairgrounds Pool

With all this talk about what to do with the site of the Mid-South Fairgrounds, we tend to forget that it was, at one time, THE place in Memphis to go swimming.

Sometime in the 1930s — I could look up the exact date, but I’m pretty comfy in my chair here, and the book is all the way across the room — city leaders built Memphis’ largest swimming pool. It was a huge, oval thing, surrounded by sand beaches. Maywood and Clearpool did the same thing. With sand, I mean.

On the west side was a low building (shown here) that housed showers, changing rooms, and showers. And across the front was a big sign, as you can plainly see, warning all swimmers “ALL OUT WHEN BELL RINGS.” In other words, get out of the pool when the lifeguard rings a bell — either to signify that somebody might be drowning, or your swimming day was coming to a close. I don’t recall what those tile-roofed buildings in the background were used for. I can only do so much, you know, and these days that’s really not much at all.

Notice the old-fashioned lightpoles around the pool. I wonder: was this place open at night?

And yes, as I sit here shivering in the drafty Lauderdale Mansion, I realize it’s not exactly the season for outdoor swimming, but I thought I’d share the old photo with you anyway. This place was known as the civic pool, and just like Rainbow Lake, Clearpool, and Maywood (and in more recent years, Adventure River), there’s not a trace of it. Despite our unbearable summers, Memphis, it seems, just can’t support a big outdoor swimming complex. It doesn’t make sense, does it?