The Old Depot
The small depot at Tate, Georgia sits in a state of perpetual decay as it slowly fades into history.
Down and out at the depot
The trains don't stop here any more, the passengers are all gone. No one waits for a love one to step off the train from the city. No one boards a train bound for war, college, or just a life somewhere else but here.
The depot used to be the center of a community. The agent knew more about the residents of the town and their lives than probably any other person in town, except maybe the bartender.
The agent knew where they were going and where they had been. Which companies were doing well and flush with shipments and which ones were barely holding on. Western Union's telegrams came over the wires with news of births and deaths to be delivered. Deliveries from the mail-order catalogs awaited pick-up, especially around Christmas.
The trains stopped running, the agent retired, and no one ever replaced him. The depot sits alone alongside the rusting rails and the paint slowly fades away... so do the memories of days gone by.
Tate is famous for the quality of the marble mined nearby which has been used in monuments and construction throughout the United States.