28 Hours in Augusta: Not Disgusta At All

Nicknames for places are tricky; they tend to stick, even when they no longer pertain. 

With all the growth and traffic around our city, “Slowvannah” hardly seems applicable anymore, even if at the moment torpidity temporarily reigns over these humidity-soft streets empty of SCAD students and heat-averse tourists. 

“Hotlanta” can thank the Allman Brothers for popularizing this redneck-inspired moniker that just won’t die in spite of concerted effort in the ATL. For all of the positive PR and economic development that Effingham County keeps bringing, it will never temper the temptation to call it “Methingham.”

And poor Augusta, Georgia, forever known as “Disgusta.” Few can resist such satisfying third-grade rhyme play, plus the city’s historic racism and systemic poverty make it an easy mark. But after a recent visit to Georgia’s second largest city, I say it’s time to cast aside that snide sobriquet. 

Our road trip was predicated on surveying the lay of the land with our son, who starts orientation next month at Medical College of Georgia. (If you thought that was a ginormous brag, wait ‘til I tell you we found out a few weeks ago that this hard-working, deserving young man will be entering as a prestigious Harrison scholar.)

We entered on Highway 25 from the Hephzibah side into a compact downtown of historic brick buildings dominated by one oddity in particular, the Lamar Building, with its funny glass penthouse hat (it’s been tragically uninhabited for years but new developments buzz.) From there we found the charming commercial district of Broad Street boasting mostly small businesses and shops, including the righteously cool Grantski Records and the fiercely independent Book Tavern, both indications of highly intelligent life.   

Could not take my eyes off the Lamar Building

However, the city centers around the hospital complex and university, surrounded by a spread of tree-lined neighborhoods in varying states of gentrification or disintegration, not unlike Savannah 20 years ago. Cruising through Summerville, Olde Town, and Forest Hills, we saw how one block of well-kept bungalows could deteriorate into broken windows and overgrown lawns on the next, and that you’re never more than five minutes from the best or worst parts of town. The real estate market hasn’t experienced the dizzying spin so many other places have, but Augusta’s status as a cybersecurity and medical nexus is attracting more young professionals who will probably drive up home prices with their fine landscaping skills and adorable dogs.

We snagged a lovely room at The Partridge Inn on my favorite discount travel app, taking in an owl’s eye view from the rooftop bar. Founded in 1736 by our own General Oglethorpe, Augusta feels like a little sister city in more ways than one, from the carpet of magnolias and gardenias to the Savannah River separating it from South Carolina. (There are big differences in how that waterway wields its presence, but we’ll get to that in a minute.)

Felt cute, might’ve been the mimosas

As for culture, Augusta lacks Savannah’s sexy boozy party vibe, which means we saw not a single person sloshing around warm beer in a to-go cup. This is the serious and slightly nerdy sister, as people here are busy preparing to provide healthcare to keep the rest of us from dying from preventable diseases or stupid accidents. Not only is MCG one of the oldest public medical schools in the country, there are also separate campuses for nursing and dentistry, plus four-year Augusta University. (“Go Jaguars!” might not have the same ring as “Go Dawgs!” but the women’s tennis team didn’t do too shabbily in this year’s Peach Belt Conference.)

That’s not to say it’s completely devoid of artsy endeavors: The Westobou organization runs a gorgeous downtown gallery featuring local artists, and The Morris Museum of Art boasts a permanent collection of over 5000 pieces. The Colton Ballet Company has captivated a loyal audience for almost 20 years, and there’s rhinestone-caped exhibit at the Augusta History Museum and a ton of street art dedicated to the city’s flashiest resident, James Brown.

Oh right, and golf. Every April, hundreds of thousands of folks with a particular fashion sense descend upon Augusta National Golf Club for the Masters, turning this otherwise sleepy, serious town into the little ball center of the universe. The Masters generates an economic impact of $120 million a year in a single week, and lots of folks rent out their homes for astronomical amounts of cash. So even if you’d rather carry around an epileptic raccoon than a nine iron, you learn to love golf in Augusta — or as the locals pronounce it, “Uh-GUSS-ta.” 

One thing that people complain about when asked what exactly is so damn disgusta here is the proliferation of strip malls. As someone who hails from the land of strip malls, I can tell you that Surrey Center is among the classiest I’ve ever seen — brick walkways! A fountain in the parking lot! Excellent dining options include the upscale French Market Grille and rustic Italian Oliviana; we enjoyed Tako Sushi with its intriguing mix of Mexican and Japanese specialties.

Other standout meals were had at Boll Weevil, offering slices of hummingbird cake the side of your head, and Manuel’s Bread Cafe in North Augusta, which is actually in South Carolina. Confusing, but not disgustingly so?

We wrapped up our sojourn with a stop at Savannah Rapids Park, the head of the historic Augusta Canal and the beginning of a dreamy 13-mile bikeable greenway that leads straight into downtown. Here the Savannah River we know and loathe is practically unrecognizable: Clear and almost blue, dotted in mossy rocks, awash in kayak launches and turtles sunning themselves. 

THAT’S the Savannah River?!

The Savannah Riverkeeper has done a tremendous job of protecting this section of our shared waterway from encroaching development and environmental degradation, though it certainly helps that it’s upriver from the ever-problematic Plant Vogtle Nuclear Power Plant.

Obviously, there’s way more industrial water usage and a giant global port downstream at on our end, and it’s dumb to compare cities that have completely different economic engines and cultural personalities. 

I’m just saying we might consider throwing around epithets like “disgusting” when a safe, carless trail connecting our neighborhoods is still a distant dream and our own poverty rate holds at a steady high.

Look, we’re allowed to outgrow nicknames. Everyone knows some kid who got saddled with “Tiny” in elementary school then sprouted past six feet in tenth grade; to a certain subset who knew me in my early years, I will always be “Snaggletooth.”

If we’re going to spend the next four years visiting Augusta, I intend to call this nice little city by its proper name. Unless I can come up with something better. 

I highly doubt we can make “Robusta” happen. But should anything ever go wrong at Plant Vogtle, I’ve got dibs on “Combusta.”

I’ll wear that green coat on a Sunday afternoon ~ JLL

Proud parents